WHAT A LONG DAY
MUWCI TIMES
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MUWCI TIMES N•6 words
Kunzang Tshering Maria Victoria Moreno Jeppe Ugelvig Jiya Pandya Kevin HoliÄ?ka William Hunt Nanya Jhingran Kavya Bhat Sharo Costa Twisha Asher Juliet Hoornaert
pictures
Karanjit Singh Jeppe Ugelvig Steve McCurry
layout
Cecilia Cortes Jeppe Ugelvig
publishing & editing
Jeppe Ugelvig
CONTENT EDITORS NOTE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 Jeppe’s monthly review of the current times 2012 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 Sharo predicts the coming year. Pulp . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . 6 An ordninary Monday turns into pulp fiction in Kavya’s short story BY MY WINDOWS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 An anonymous contributer shares intimate poetry DEATH OF RESOLUTION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . 9 Kunzang is spectic of the pouplar “New Year resolutions” TANZT! TANZT! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..
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Kevin has seen the trailer for the new film “Pina”, a tribute to the inventer of a very special style. OPINIONATED . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 Do you recognize the pressue Twisha feels when speaking in a bigger crowd? BEING HUMAN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . 13 In the second version of Juliet and Karanjit’s “Being Human”, the focus lies on two musicians STREETLIGHT PEOPLE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Jiya portrays an encounter with Mumbai’s street people NEW UWC: INTITUTO POLITECNICO TERRITORIAL JOSÉ FELÍX RIBAS . . . . . . . . . . Maria Victoria gives insight to the politically tense situation of UWC Simon Bolivar
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INTERVIEW WITH PELHAM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 Will interviews our new Headmaster A HIPSTER’S DILEMMA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 Nanya introduces you to this decades freshest subculture: Hipsterism
EDITORS
Welcome back to MUWCI, this time with a calendar that says 2012 and the commence of second or fourth (and last!) semester for first- and second years respectively. As half of the students experienced their first break, being a month away from school, the other half experienced their last – and I must say, boarding the last flight to India for a (very) long time was one of the weirdest feelings I’ve experienced. I am sure that we all have ambivalent feelings to MUWCI, and it is this ambivalence that we have time to reflect upon over winter break. Surely we all have days where we ask ourselves why we are here, but we also experience moments where MUWCI seems like the most perfect place to be. One of the newest member of our community is Pelham Roberts, our new headmaster who arrived to India just shortly before we returned to campus. Even though it has been several weeks, the community still seems excited and optimistic about this change, and I would like to warmly welcome Pelham and his family on behalf of MUWCI Times (read an interview with Pelham on page 22) In this first issue as a student initiative we are joined by a few new writers who are all excited to provide interesting journalism and creative writing for the next half a year. I hope you will enjoy this 27 page edition of MUWCI Times. Welcome! -Jeppe
2012… By Sharo
2012 is probably the most speculated year of this century. With loads of doomsday cults, conspiracy theories and Planet X collisions to boot, the dawn of this new year has left many people curious. If you’re one of those pessimistic or optimistic, (depending on how you view it) souls who lie under their cozy blankets, and wonder “What if the world really does end in 2012?” I’ve got news for you. According to numerous scientific astronomical predictions, Mother Earth probably won’t die out on 21 December 2012. Yeah, I know it sucks, but you have to give your IB’s... So what might happen in 2012? Here’s a list of predictions sourced from the internet. Some of these may not be factual or accurate (you decide which ones are...) but they are a lot of fun to read...
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The civil wars in Syria and Yemen will get worse before getting better. Foetus transplants, where live foetuses are transplanted from poor, young girls to rich, old, anti-abortion women will be the new fad. The Indian economy will grow by 7% this year, but will be hit by inflation in the second half of this 2012. Kim Kardashian will get married and divorced on the same day. The course of the economic crisis will be determined by the US presidential elections. Hitler- style square moustaches will be back in vogue, after decades of ridicule. The London Olympics will be the biggest arts event of the year, if Danny Boyle’s new film, doesn’t flop... Laughter will be outlawed in Saudi Arabia and Afghanistan. Superpowers of the world [China, India, Russia and France] will be distracted because of major shifts in internal power structures. Iran will succeed in building a nuclear bomb and try to initiate World War III, but will end up accidentally blowing Syria and Yemen, thereby restoring peace to the region...
Well, now that you’re done laughing out of loud and getting stared at in the AQ Common Room, what do you think? Will 2012 impact us, as MUWCI-ites in any way?
PULP AKA BECAUSE DON’T LIKE MONDAYS Try as he might, he cannot remember. He swears he was just in his car, driving back from a horrible, horrible day at work – a fight with his boss, the new secretary whose blouse was so low-cut that she really didn’t have any right to say no to a quickie in the copy room, that coveted project being given to him of all people (honestly, it couldn’t be a more clichéd ‘bad day’ if it was written by an exceptionally unoriginal high-school student!). He remembers that it was raining, and as usual, trying to drive through all that water had given him a headache. There were too many happy couples dancing in the rain, too many naïve students with obnoxious yellow umbrellas. His daughter was not waiting for him to pick her up in their usual spot, and he had to get out in the rain only to find her snogging some grubby kid in the bicycle shed. The car ride home was – surprise,
surprise! – very awkward. Ten minutes before they were supposed to reach their tiny suburban apartment where the most exciting thing that ever happened was their neighbour winning the annual flower expo, he made her get out and walk home instead. The silence was stifling, the rain was too loud. His teeth still feel different because he had been clenching them so hard all the way back – the look she had given him just wouldn’t go away! He doesn’t recollect reaching home, but he has a vague memory of having to bend down to pick up his keys from the god-awful ugly carpet outside the door at least twice. His wife was home, he could hear her singing ‘Seasons of Love’ from the kitchen, which of course meant they were having beans for dinner again. He hadn’t known he hated beans and ‘Rent’ so much. The dog had left the chewed remains of his new leather shoes on the rug in front of the door (there went half of last month’s salary, to wear in Salamanca
on that project he did not get). He stared at them, his hands twitching with an insane desire he wouldn’t acknowledge. He couldn’t see straight, and was that pounding in his chest his heart? He’d never felt anything so intense before. A drop of sweat (or was it rain?) rolled off his nose and made a ‘plonk’ sound as it hit the floor. He seemed hyper-aware of every sensation, and God, why didn’t she turn on the air-conditioner? He was breathing loudly, quickly – in, out, in, out. Am I having a heart attack? She brought him a cup of coffee, and she should have known better because the day was too warm. He recognized she was singing but he couldn’t hear her, there was a buzz of something else in his head. She was wearing those old sweatpants that she knew he hated, and as she walked back into the kitchen, he could see her hips sway in time with her music.
Boss, ass, daughter, dog, wife, boss, ass, daughter, dog, wife, boss, ass, daughter, dog, wife! There is a crack – lightning, he almost thinks – and suddenly she is lying at his feet, and his heavy briefcase is in his hands, bloody in one corner, and though he cannot see it, he just knows that there is a mocking stain spreading on his carpet. He cannot help but be angry about that. So angry.
He looks at her; he can’t imagine why his wife is lying on the ground. When his daughter comes home, she finds her mother dead in the hallway, her father watching television in the bedroom, and a ready-to-eat dinner thawing on the counter. They tell him he killed her. Try as he might, he cannot remember.
Suddenly all he can think about is the new secretary and the smell of her perfume and her curly hair and her seductive eyes and her hands pushing him away from her body and into the copy machine. His boss telling him that if he didn’t get that article in by tomorrow he could kiss his pay check goodbye. Sitting in that meeting, congratulating that pompous ass for getting that amazing Salamanca project (Kill him!). That boy had his dirty hands on his daughter. Shredded shoes. Wife!
By Kavya Bhat
BY MY WINDOWS
By the windows of serenity I sit and ponder, I sit and ponder over things that have passed, In quiet of the sunset, I sit by the windows, Wondering why the hues wouldn't last. By the windows of quiet, I sit and ponder, I sit and ponder, of what might come in the day, In the aurora, Lady of Light, I wonder, Wonder if things will be the repertoire of the passed days. By windows of fairy-tale, I watch love float, I watch it float and free my heart a little, Little dreams come and steal me away, Into caves I’d rather not approach, Floating, they stretch their wings and rest on my heart; They’re so many, and they all wish to steal me away… By the host of the dark, I sit by my window, I look out into the moonlight's havens, Of memories known and been, Of moments touched and gone, Of times seen but not heard, I do not know why, but I am reminded.
By Anonymous - picture by Cristopher Gray
DEATH OF A RESOLUTION By Kunzang
The beginning of each year marks the birth of millions of resolutions. People all over the world make these from drunken partygoers to over worked housewives. Everybody loves the idea that the New Year is like a clean slate where old mistakes are wiped away and the future is ripe with endless possibilities. I believe that any fool can make a resolution but it takes superhuman determination and persistence to keep it alive. Many of us do not have what it takes. We lose sight of our resolutions and that is when they fade away to their untimely deaths. By the end of the year we can barely remember them and are left with the aftertaste of that unfulfilled promise. Don’t get me wrong, I admire anybody who wants to start over or change something in his or her lives. I applaud them! I congratulate them on this wonderful start. But that’s all a resolution is- a start. You cannot make a resolution and then lie around waiting for something to start happening. You need to aid its growth with every possible power you possess, whether it is a gym membership or nicotine patches. Another common culprit for the demise of resolutions is ridiculously high expectations. If you’re New Year resolution is to discover the magical land of
discover the magical land of Narnia and take your rightful place as monarch, I will pat you on the back and wish you good luck. But you need to be aware of the possibility that you may be in for some disappointment. For a resolution to work, it needs to be feasible and practical. By now you are probably shaking your heads in indignation wondering what authority I possess to preach endlessly about resolutions. I admit I have no such authority and everything I write is from my own experiences. Yes, I always start the year blissfully optimistic with two, three and sometimes a whole list of resolutions I am bent on fulfilling. These would soon be forgotten only to be replaced by a new set the next year. I do know the thrill of making a resolution and the regret of not being able to carry it through. I hope this has served as an unofficial guideline to resolutionmaking beginners, an image of togetherness for the ones that didn’t quite work out and a tribute to the ones that did. At the risk of sounding like a badly written greeting card I think that it is better to have made a resolution, even one that you know will not work out that to not have made one at all. In the end a resolution is a symbol of the hope that the world and people can change for the better.
TANZT! TANZT! SONST SIND WIR VERLOREN The Grim Reaper works in mysterious ways, but every mortal person knows that his mastery in the dance of death is unquestionable. At least, there is one person who had embraced the dance battle in such grace that deserved an award of its own. Pina Bausch was a pioneer in Tanztheater, a neo expressionist dance genre that she had carefully crafted into reaching a cult status. Her notable choreographies amazed critics establishing Bausch’s successful career in the world of physical theatre until meeting Grim Reaper himself in 2009. Before her death, she was in the middle of working on her own biography with German film director, Wim Wenders. His filmography includes critically acclaimed movies such as “Kings of the Roads” (1976) and “Wings of Desires” (1984). The link on YouTube showcases the movie’s trailer, which introduces the aesthetic universe of Pina Bausch in Wender’s latest installment. The voice of an eerie choir marks the beginning giving a dramatic touch while the following questions appeared with each ending written in capitals:
Is it DANCE? A scene from the choreographer’s most sensational piece, “Le Sacre du printemps” challenge the question itself whether the performance can be considered a dance or not.
“Dance, dance, otherwise we are lost” -Pina Bausch
Is it THEATRE? A woman, whose body is kissed, touched, tickled, and explored by the surrounding men. Can such absurdity be theatre?
By Kevin Holicka
Or is it just LIFE?
Two opposite life scenarios happened simultaneously: A woman falls solidly like a pencil to the man who immediately supports her. A man climbs up triumphantly onto a hill followed by an energetic dance. It is fascinating how the first 20 seconds has presented a collage of events that makes the audiences more curious with questions. But as Bausch’s art does not require words or dialogues, dance theatre is something that can be enjoyed in absolute speechless. Adding to this is the rapid change from the dramatic choir into a calm jazz music as the woman falls and the man climb up. It changes the entire atmosphere instantly feeding our adrenaline with excitements.
LOVE, FREEDOM, STRUGGLE, LONGING, JOY, DESPAIR, REUNION, BEAUTY, STRENGTH The words above may have been inspired by the choreographer herself who had transformed these daily emotional expressions, which everyone can always relate to, into extraordinary physical interpretations. The sequence of such words has been designed to indulge the eyes without missing the essence from each word. Putting love first may symbolize its importance as a couple work their bodies to compliment each other. Another amazing detail can be seen in the representation of beauty where it is regarded to be something delicate that needs constant care. The man catches the woman constantly as she fails to walk. Strength ends the sequence which could tell Bausch’s fight against the cancer which she had. Therefore her signature quotation followed: “Dance, dance otherwise we are lost.” -Pina Bausch This trailer has definitely transformed the legendary Tanztheater Wuppertal ensemble into a new breahtaking experience in the silver screen. The 1.5 minutes trailer has given the preview of a collaboration that combines the best from the performing arts: Dance and film. Its casts from various age signifies the movie’s intention to be something that is enjoyable for anyone from any walks of life. Dance is a universal language that sometimes words fail to achieve. A message dedicated for the choreographer ends the trailer followed by a shot from Wuppertal’s famous tram reminding the audiences the city where it all began.
“A film for Pina Bausch”
OPINIONATED
My drooping eyes had almost closed when the discussion began. There were blows and word attacks and metaphorical analogies. They closed in on me from every direction. I tried to process everything while thinking of something to say, to assert myself and to make my point heard, to be considered "well-articulated" and "coherent"; “This is impossible”. I had never thought of myself as stupid, or silent, yet in this crowd my voice was lost and I didn’t know where to find it. I raise my hand as something struck me, waited for about 3 ⅕ minutes to speak. All eyes on me. I stuttered and mumbled as some of the people in the crowd clenched their fists and hit them against each other, over and over. Disagree. I finish, not having made any point, not having made the point I had wanted to and completely red-faced. Incoherent. In somebody else’s want to express their opinion, I had lost mine. Probably not going to speak for a while. I loose myself in the rhythm of the words, my eyes drooping again. I should sleep early today, or I might miss first block, again, tomorrow.
By Twisha
STREETLIGHT PEOPLE I rolled down the car window and reached out for my cappuccino. It was cold outside, by Bombay standards, and so I rolled up the window again. I didn’t notice her at the time, leaning against the wall, staring at me from her position under the streetlamp, intently, just staring. The music was on, and I hummed along as I sipped my coffee. I rolled down the window again to get another coffee, and this time I saw her. She was closer than she had been before, at the foot of the footpath, sucking her thumb while still standing there, staring. I looked at her. She couldn’t have been more than three or four years old, with scruffy brown hair, ragged clothes and big, determined eyes. As I reached out to take my coffee from the waiter, she stepped forward. I looked away, expecting her to start wailing pitifully and demanding that I give her money. But she didn’t say a word. As I gazed stoically into the distance, she walked up to the car, put her elbows on the window pane and rested her head on the rim of the car. And she just stayed there, not moving, not speaking, and just looking. As I continued to look away, desperately trying to ignore her, she turned her head slightly and looked questioningly at the point of my steadfast vision. Finding nothing interesting, she turned her attention back to me. My aunt, sitting behind the wheel in the front seat next to me seemed oblivious to this little girl, as she spoke on the phone to a client of hers. The air outside was getting colder now, and I clasped my coffee, seeking warmth. The girl still didn’t move. She was silent, looking around her at the cars whizzing past on the street, occasionally gazing up at the streetlamp and then looking back at me. I was thoroughly discomfited; having someone look at me as if I were a showpiece, that too, someone who I would consider no more than another child on the homeless streets of Bombay –I didn’t know what to do. The little girl had ambushed me in the prime of my security, and ripped me out of my comfort zone without even trying to. I glanced at her sideways. She seemed to be completely at ease, standing there, her head cocked to one side, nodding to the music in the
“The little girl had ambushed me in the prime of my security, and ripped me out of my comfort zone without even trying to”
By Jiya. Photograph by Steve McCurry
Suddenly, both of us looked up as a woman called her, holding out a ten rupee note. The girl walked up to her with slow, deliberate steps, and took the note, examining it, and then strutting away. She sat down proudly on the sidewalk, accepting eagerly another ten rupee note a man leaving the coffee stall offered her. Looking back to see her sister asleep on the sidewalk, she firmly pressed down the creases on the notes and took out another sheaf from her pocket. Slowly, calmly, she began sorting the money, counting it, putting the coins in piles and then smugly putting it all back into her pocket. After finishing her little exercise, she looked up. This time, she caught me watching her. Smiling, she turned and walked over to where her sister slept, took out the money and hid it under the make-shift pillow and lay down next to her, blocking the light from the streetlamp by covering her eyes. As my aunt revved up the engine of the car and began to drive away, I turned back to look at her, now drifting to sleep on that cold roadside. I couldn’t help but think that her childhood had been taken away. Taken away by me, by her sister, by people who gave her money and by the streetlamp. She couldn’t have been more than three or four years old.
NEW UWC: INTITUTO POLITECNICO TERRITORIAL JOSÉ FELÍX RIBAS. CHE GUEVARA’S DREAM.
By Maria Victoria
It’s been a while since Facebook’s home page has been flooded with activist messages trying to help the students of what used to be the Simon Bolivar UWC of Venezuela, considering the degree of interest in the virtual scene this new information might shock many.
that this is not in any way an attack to the UWC movement, I would even doubt that the highly occupied head of state would have any awareness on the UWC movement or ideals. The aim was land and UWC-SB had it.
As it was clearly communicated last term worldwide, the socialist government of Venezuela has been planning to take over the territory of the school to use it for “official manners”. The lands where the school is settled have belonged to FUNDACEA since 1986, an organization created by the UWC foundation to promote the study of agriculture. Evidently, the violation of private property shocked the UWC community worldwide and caused the activist campaigns in the schools and the web. Of course, why would the leftist government determine the future of the students of UWC-SB? More concretely, why would Hugo Chavez interfere with any UWC- related issue?
What pulled the trigger of the UWC community to react this way was the fact that despite that a UWC campus is located in a specific country, it is an international environment that is in no way related to the government and hence should not be highly influenced by it, let alone eliminated. This feeling is one of universal nature, we all felt attacked however, it seem contradicting to many popular ideals inside a UWC.
Trying to be as objective as my experiences allow me: this was no surprise. I’m not trying to play victim but the government has been taking over private properties since 1998, slowly but efficiently. The now called Instituto Politecnico Territorial Jose Felix Ribas has been established 3 weeks ago and the faculty members – who have not been paid for the past 3 months – as well as the students have been left with no answers. Although I would be the last person to defend these actions in the country were I was raised, I do understand
We have all been at some point, inside and outside classrooms, in a conversation where the strong believes towards communistic ideals have been presented. We have all heard/made statements that claim that each individual must reach a level of understanding high enough to assume the task of living responsibly in a world equally to others. No, there should be no barriers. Yes, we are all the same. Although these ideals are ones that we all wish to see in practice one day it seems that they are, ironically, the justification of the actions of the government. In an attempt to recover land from private minorities, this space was taken to offer benefits for the majority. To make it simply: this land belongs to every citizen of the country, not to UWC students only.
An interview with…
PELHAM Can you tell us about your background? Whenever I need to be decisive, friends of mine will bring up my military experience, but I identify myself much more with my time working in development and as an educator. I have a lot of experience working in international schools. After my time in Atlantic College, I worked in Germany, then I moved to Swaziland and then to Cape Town in South Africa, to a community that is crying for a UWC. There’s such a demand for education that will lead people not to judge others on the basis of their skin color. There were plans to build a UWC on Robben Island (where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned), but unfortunately it proved impossible. How have you found MUWCI so far in comparison to other schools? I already feel very at home here. The architectural feel is very similar to Atlantic College; the stone walls, the location on the side of a hill. At AC we looked out on the Atlantic Ocean, and the water acted as an important medium of engagement, though the beach, environmental, cliff and lifeboat services. In the same way, here we look out on the valley and the focus of our local engagement through interactions in the villages. How is your family adapting to this new environment? Each of the members of our family - five including our dog, six, are adapting to new contexts. I know that Ulrike’s very happy to be working in the art department and with German studies, but you should really interview her for the next issue (interview with Ulrike coming soon). For my youngest, Geireann, the most important thing for him now is his football. He has just selected for the his School football team, and he’ll be going to a West Ham United football camp in Britain for ten days. Fabian would love to have stayed here, but he’s back in Costa Rica as a first year, and Quentin is here on his gap year, just deciding what to do and as I have family connections with Sri Lanka, he’ll be spending some time there soon.
By Will
What are your long-term plans here at MUWCI? I’m very hesitant to say anything substantial after being here for such a short time. I’d like to develop more coherence between academics and all the other activities and opportunities which exist. Amongst many things, I feel there is a great need to develop the potential of our biodiversity reserve and our performing and visual arts programs. I plan on staying here for a significant length of time, and I’m not in a hurry to take control: there are some incredible things going on here, and it’s part of excitement that they are going in many directions. What’s the current status of housing developments? The most important thing when it comes to accommodation is to maintain the culture on which the college is founded and to avoid distorting that as much as possible. The results of our survey will be posted, and in the next College Meeting we’ll speak about how we can move forward. The architects are looking at other options, and the MUWCI Board is very willing to investigate alternatives. It’s expensive for architects to re-do drawings, but we’ll continue to communicate with them. One question that will be of particular importance is how we deal with the main problem the survey identified, which is the lack of space for students. There’s a lot more discussion that needs to occur, but some quick decisions that need to be made Any thoughts on the issue of theft? Thievery has been an issue at every boarding school I know of, including the other UWC’s I’ve worked at; though from what I’ve observed it does seem to be a bigger problem here. The wealth on this campus contrasts greatly with that of the surrounding area, which is certainly a contributing factor. I’m also very aware that the addiction to thievery can be a psychological condition. I’ve found that there’s quite a lot in place here to act as a safeguard to deter thievery. One of the most important aspects of this issue is trust building. We need to make sure that we don’t allow this to threaten our school’s atmosphere as none of us like to have to lock things in our safes, but we are responsible as the owners of our possessions for keeping them protected and in so doing, safeguarding our community. Theft is a reality everywhere, and providing opportunities for it will only hurt the sense of trust we have here. It is a challenging paradox. I am considering being more proactive in setting a trap to catch a thief and this has been done effectively elsewhere. Also, collecting information through the intranet will help. Whenever anyone loses something, they must report it on the intranet’s database of lost items. Students are a little reluctant to log this information, but it’s very easy, and even if there’s little hope of finding the lost item it’s important that students log a report, because we really need more information to tackle the problem. What is your attitude towards drugs and alcohol on campus? It is a privilege to study here, and students need to recognize that. One of the guiding principles of the United World Colleges is that there is no smoking or alcohol on campus and I am not prepared to turn a blind eye to either. It’s not “bad” to drink alcohol, of course in moderation, and I may prefer to deal with the
issue differently, but it is a clear guideline at all UWC’s and I am committed to upholding it. If you are found with alcohol on campus, the message that you give me is that you do not respect the rules of this community and place consumption of alcohol above your respect for this UWC. Please do not expect to stay for long if this is the message you give me. In my opinion this is a threat to the community and my job is to protect the community. I am very open to dialogue and no doubt you will wish to engage with me. I want to find agreed ways of dealing with this and other similar guidelines and I will engage with First Years and Faculty about how we safeguard freedom by establishing community guidelines. I have two obligations: to protect this community, and to allow people to learn from their mistakes. There’s a fine line between the two, but if someone believes that it’s okay to bring drugs or alcohol onto our campus, I want them to be absolutely clear that my first opinion will be that they do not care about the privilege they have to be here. Do you have any thoughts at this stage about the role of the IB at our school? Are there any academic challenges you foresee? It’s an incredibly exciting time, and there aren’t problems, only possibilities, academically as well as within the whole UWC vision. We can be right at the forefront of all the UWC’s, when the strengths that exist here can be pulled together from many different areas. We shouldn’t have such a division between academics and everything else we do. In the admissions process, colleges and universities unquestionably value the engagement of students beyond academics, but why is it so important, and how does the one impact the other? Everything we do here can be separated into academics and UWC values. Nothing should be sacrosanct except coherence to UWC values; we are a UWC first and foremost, not an IB school. Why are people willing to give a scholarship for one individual to spend two years at a UWC? I believe that this education merits the price tag, but everyone needs to question it and believe it through the contribution they make. Some schools pay this lip service, with no serious dialogue – it’s something we should all think seriously about. What is it about UWC’s that draws you to them, and why have you sought out the position of headmaster? I was very frustrated seeing undelivered potential. The negative side of being a Head in a big school is that you are removed from direct contact with students and so lose the immediacy of relationships, but often it’s the whole feel and culture of a place which enables it to achieve something, and while you can work at a grassroots level to achieve that, as a Head there’s a greater opportunity to influence things. I’m really happy to be back at a UWC, because my last two experiences as a Head have been with students aged 3-18. It’s great to be with one focused group where we can really work to create a positive atmosphere. Anything else you’d like to add? I’d like to say to everyone here: Thank you for the welcome you have given us. I’d like to hear from you - feel free to express your opinions with empathy and respect - I’m very happy to listen.
‘Alternative because it’s cool’ THE HIPSTER’S DILEMMA I walk around a flea market in a precarious Greenwich street with a can of coke in my hand. This place is essentially full of all sorts of rejected stuff that no regular person would want around them, but a fascinated group of young adults surround each of these dubious stalls, ooh-ing and aah-ing at the most inane objects. Spending insane amounts of money on things like a discarded pair of half torn pants that someone threw away. Half rusted bracelets, shoes with hardly any sole, records from bands no one seems to have heard of before. Welcome to a hipster heaven, go crazy. The hipster is a phenomenon around the world – flocking obscure liberal arts colleges in the US, smoking on the sidewalk in flea markets around the world. A rather intriguing concept of life, one that abundantly breaks all rules that govern the lives of people around. Hipsters are famous for frowning at anything that more than 50 people appreciate – music, clothing, art – the possibilities are endless. What’s so interesting? The copious amounts of effort most self-proclaimed ‘hipsters’ put into being alternative. From breaking all forms of contact with popular culture to creating tumblr profiles full of quotes from movies no one has seen. Attending vague film festivals and volunteering at music festivals. Walking around without shoes on, because everyone wears shoes? Religiously surfing the internet, on the prowl for bands and movies that seem to have not made it to the mainstream circuit. Dressed in what seem like a memory of what were once perfectly fine clothes. Square and round large framed glasses, often decorative, that cover 3/4ths of the face. iPods filled with music most people don’t hear of.
Forgive me for being harsh, I’m just intrigued by this growing sub-culture that is now edging towards a certain popularity in itself. Wikihow recently updated an article on the ’19 Quick Ways To Becoming A Hipster’. Websites all over the internet are selling hipster gear, feverishly feeding on the commercial spectacle that this unconventionality is introducing. Photographs with vintage effects, shot with lo-mo lenses that strive to give an old-timey effect – a world far away from the sharp, brilliant DSLR shots that seem to be famous in the day – seem to have become the sign off for people aspiring towards hipsterdom. While on one hand I find these people extremely interesting, their choice of music – although alternative, is pretty damn amazing. There is always some sort of style that emanates from the clothing they wear, albeit one that not many have in them to endorse. They’re a curious bunch of people that present to the world a paradox that fits them like no other. By striving consciously towards being alternative, they fit into this massive umbrella of the hipster community. By deviating from what seems to be the norm of the day, they conform to what seems to be the norm of the hipster. Makes one wonder, what happened to the real hipster – the one who unconsciously became one, with no desire to fit into a community of hipsters.
By Nanya
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