By Rafał Komar
I never really thought I’d be where I am today, and I definitely didn’t think of studying the English language more than it was necessary to communicate fluently with foreigners. Even though my awareness of English was rather decent from the very beginning of my university education, I had a bigger interest in history, of which I was particularly fond since I was a kid. Learning about ancient civilizations, kings and politics, and finding connections between events that happened ages ago and today’s world was something I’d do with pleasure. However, the (splendid) vision of ending up as a teacher or a museum tour guide definitely wasn’t something that pushed me towards expanding that interest. Don’t get me wrong; it’s just a matter of taste.
After crossing out the next fields that seemed appealing but at some point not worth the effort, I was left with the option of honing my knowledge of the English language. “Cool,” I thought, “Why not?!’ After staying up all these nights spent on reaching next levels in Skyrim, avidly watching the newest episodes of Breaking Bad and various cartoon shows, including Family Guy, which were mostly broadcasted without Polish subtitles or voice-over (at least the good ones), I could finally give meaning to these activities by reforging them into something worthwhile. However, as much as I was familiar with the English language, I plunged into the student world without much of a plan or clear expectations. In spite of finding an illusory comfort in thoughts that my procrastination is a feature common to millennials, and believing that in time things will “sort themselves out,” I knew that I had to face new challenges, take on the new role of a responsible student and somehow carve my own place in this mini society because nobody else would do it for me. Even though I felt like just another, single cog in a grand machinery built of hundreds of students of SWPS, I knew the risks of staying behind for too long. But in fact, I kind of felt that way my whole life, like a spoke in a wheel. Perhaps out of convenience or because of my introverted nature, I always tended to be more of a careful follower than a born leader. But I did feel I was part of the community and did everything I could to fit in.
The first two or three years were particularly fascinating for me, because everything was new, and exploring this microworld was probably one of the best experiences that ever happened to me. Everyone was treated equally and with due respect. After all, we were adults and we came here of our own free will, not dragged by the ears by our parents and sat at desks with some schoolyard bullies to our general discontent. If I was ever given the opportunity to relive another period of my life, it would probably be those years. The thrill of the first winter exam session, meeting new classmates, partying with them, or facing the wrath of Dr. K and Dr. P because of being late or unprepared was always met with great stress and a jumbled mix of emotions, but now they are nothing more than fun memories. It was also the time of establishing lifetime bonds with my friends and entering a relationship with a girl. Everything was running smoothly, and, for the first time in a long time, I was finally happy with where I was.
The next two years after getting my bachelor’s degree were marked by an even greater involvement in sealing the bonds with people I met when I was a first-year student. Some promising friendships, however, came crashing down, and there was much sadness, anger, and regret. “But that’s how things are and have always been,” I kept telling myself. It was also a time when teachers finally turned off the sieve and a true battering began of those who managed to stay the course. We were flooded with tons of “unnecessary” things that we believed were meant to be learnt and forgotten. And at some point it was true since probably all the theories of translation I learned in Dr. K’s classes slipped my mind as soon as I passed her exams. Even though I knew that she was a good teacher and privately probably a really nice person, her course was awfully boring! But I kept telling myself that it was all that had to be done to reach the ultimate goal of earning a master’s degree and go on with life.
There were also classes of which I will always think fondly, including super practical translation workshops with Mr. S. and casual hours full of jokes with Prof. K. But in spite of studying specifically to become a translator, I always had a thing for writing, not the kind of repetitive writing without much of a chance to contribute something of my own, but creative writing where I could pour a part of myself on paper. Perhaps this is why I was somewhat excited when creating longer texts, including two theses, in which I could let my imagination run wild despite having a specific focus.
But these are the things of the past, and now, being a graduate, I can only look back with the feeling of joy and nostalgia on the things I’ve done, in spite of missed opportunities and things that went wrong, bearing no grudge against the world or history. And if someone asked me now if I would’ve done the same thing if I knew back then how things would turn out, I would answer, “Yes.” Well, at least in some sense. Sometimes, we just step into a river with both our feet, not knowing where the current may lead us. Regardless of the risk, there is much good that may come from making such impulsive decisions. If I were to give one piece of advice to students who are about to begin their journey at SWPS, I would probably say, “be yourself and trust your intuition, without much time spent on needless reflection.” It may be scary, but you have a life to live, and how else will you live it if not by trying things out on your own and weaving your own future and making these memories?
OSIA 