AWA: Academic Writing at Auckland

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            In spring, the park – when the majestic cherry blossom tree in Albert Park is in its full pink bloom and students are scattered lying around the grass, skipping lectures to soak up the warm spring sun that filters through the tree’s branches. It’s also delightful to see the rosy petals fly, carried gently by the easy breeze.

In summer, the quiet hallways – summer classes deter most students. The sombre silence within the walls that only echo the footsteps of thousands of students from only two months before is extraordinarily comforting. The sparkly dust floating around in the empty, sunlight-lit rooms is also mesmerising.

In autumn, the lecture halls – one misses them so after only a few months of absence. Meeting old friends and making new ones is always a lovely sensation. Red, yellow, orange leaves on the familiar damp paths reflect the becoming-early sunsets and both make a moving sight.

In winter, the cafes – filled with the enticing aroma of coffee and tea while students warm their frozen fingers with hot cups and mugs. It is lovely to see so many students bent down on their notes with much fervour, but the sight of idly chatting friends over delicious pastry is also a delightful sight. (McKinney, p. 3)[i]

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On the first day of the semester, the common areas in the university fill to the brim with students; most especially, the lines in the University Book Store are terrifyingly long. As exciting a time this is for many, it is also quite ironic and at the same time satisfying that in two weeks’ time, it will not be the same.

It is on this day when third years love to play a game called, “Spot the First Year.” (Angles, p. 35)[ii] It is not a difficult game, but it’s marvellous fun to pass the time in this way nonetheless. One trick I’ve learned to utilise is that more often than not, first years make themselves easily identifiable my wearing their leavers’ jackets. They continue to do so almost every day for the rest of the semester as if they don’t realise that their individuality in their old high school no longer matters in such a prestigious and highly structured environment like Auckland University. However, third years find it very delightful to pick out the amusing nicknames written on the backs of these jackets, like “Kanji God” or “Sasuke”. When we laugh openly, I am not entirely sure if the first years catch on, although I can understand why they would be very upset if they found out.

On the second day of the semester until the end of the first week, the university hosts the Clubs Expo. Since it’s still between summer and autumn, the sun shines bright and hot on all the tents that showcase all the different sports and social clubs one can join. The quad is filled with bright colours of blue, red, green, and such-like colours that attract attention from every direction. There is a club giving away fluffy bright-pink cotton candy and the smell of sugar mixed with grilling barbecue sausages, juicy and meaty, envelops the quad and livens up the excited atmosphere even more. In this way, all the upperclassmen are welcoming even to first year students, but perhaps most especially so. (Fukumori, p. 13)[iii]

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First year students must learn to read maps. On the first week of University, they make their inexperience so appallingly obvious to the point that they flaunt their green horned-ness. They should at least pretend they know where they’re going instead of aimlessly walking around the grounds and the halls - and in packs no less - then their inability to manoeuvre around the campus wouldn’t be so dreadfully distracting. It is gracious of the university to have UniGuides stationed around campus to lead these lost lots around their new home, although probably a third of them won’t even survive the first semester. (Shonagon and Kimbrough, p. 134) [iv]

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Things that make your heart beat fast. – Sitting in the exam room waiting for the test coordinator to commence reading time, every pen filling out the little yellow slips of paper with their ID numbers, the white exam sheets intimidating everyone but also signifying an almost-attained freedom.

To get up early in the morning, apply a bit of makeup, and put on clothes that you know everyone will compliment. Even if you’re only going to university for a one-hour lecture, you still feel an electric sense of pleasure inside as you anticipate the new day. The thought of sharing clichéd gossip told and retold but still feel delightfully fresh as you exchange them between easy laughs, acquiring new beautiful shards of information that piece together smoothly in your brain from world-renowned professors, and the over-all possibility of a new experience in Auckland University...doesn't all these create a uniquely arousing sensation?

On the day when you first see that handsome poet boy from AUSA poetry night again, all sounds of chatter and movement cease to exist and everything around him blurs as he walks by, making your heart stop for a seemingly infinite second and then suddenly beat faster after finding your breath once more.

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Things that make you feel accomplished – An A on an essay taught by a strict professor notorious for being a harsh marker. Finishing an assignment not ten minutes before the deadline and handing in with a calm and unhurried heart. Managing to scrape an A- for your final grade after repeated B-grade internal essays. Leaving an exam room feeling confident with your answers and receiving a good mark not long after.

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Buildings. Kate Edgar building. The new Science building. Commerce A building – I find it most ironic that most language tutorials occur in this building than any other. Engineering Building. OGGB. The Library – where the lights between the aisles cleverly turn on only when a reader comes, where the smell of old books fills your lungs with the promise of knowledge and a bit of dust floating charmingly in the still air.

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The best cheap food in university – The Chinese shop’s pork buns. Munchy Mart’s tuna roll, ramen, and muffins. Vegetarian lunch. Most of these are hidden treasures only known to those who have been in university long enough to encounter them.

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Upperclassmen should wear trench coats regularly in the winter. It is a sign of intellectual maturity as well as an admirable and exquisite superior class that lowerclassmen simply cannot dream to emulate.

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A small meadow with a bench, in the fifth month when the leaves are falling, is a very moving thing. It’s deeply affecting to stare at a brilliantly azure sky dotted with light fluffy clouds, while being visited by birds of various sizes and voice that hop closer to you on the benches. The smell of the fresh grass is also very delightful, especially after a day’s rain. When the sun sets, the sky blazes into a fiery orange that mirrors the leaves scattered on the meadow and one can’t help but try and catch the last bits of warmth not covered in shadow as the day descends to a close. The chilling air and the toasty sun simultaneously caress your back like the shivering arms of a two-week lover.

All sunlight is moving, wherever it may be. Even if you’re studying.

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One spring day, an English major writes this poem under the cherry blossom tree fringed by a steel sky,

‘If all the synonyms for “beautiful”

were compiled in a single book,

your name would be the title.’

            The person who the poem was intended for never encounters it. The ephemerality of emotion that echoes the changing seasons, not just the emotion itself, is quite a beautiful thing.

            Friendships in university are also quite fleeting. Unless strong bonds are made outside of courses, the maximum amount of interaction one makes with old classmates from previous semesters is passing hellos down the busy intersection. Perhaps this is for the best; one cannot simply accommodate every single acquaintance one has made amidst a bustling university life.

Works Cited

Angles, Jeffrey. “Watching Commonors, Performing Class: Images of the Common People in “The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon.” Japan Review, No. 13, 2001, pp 33-65.

Fukumori, Naomi. “Sei Shonagon’s Makura no soshi: A Re-Visionary History.” The Journal of the Associations of Teachers of Japanese, Vol. 31, No. 1, April 1997, pp. 1-44.

McKinney, Meredith, trans. The Pillow Book / Sei Sho¯nagon. London and New York: Penguin, 2006.

Shonagon, Sei and R. Keller Kimbrough. “Apocryphal Texts and Literary Identity: Sei Shonagon and “The Matsushima Diary.” Monumenta Nipponica, Vol. 57, No. 2, Summer 2002, pp. 133-171.

[i] Most sections in this Auckland University Pillow Book is hitherto modelled after McKinney’s translation of Sei Shonagon’s original Pillow Book. 

[ii] This reference alludes to Sei’s use of the present tense in her original work, immortalising the glory of her consort Empress Teiji’s salon.

[iii] The contrast between the higher and lower class, in this case upperclassman and lowerclassman’s distinction, is parallel to Sei’s Pillow Book which accentuates the vast difference (perceived by the writer) in hierarchy between the two.

[iv] Sei’s conceit is made apparent through her rival Murasaki Shikibu’s own diary accounts but is certainly a defining characteristic of her work that I argue enhances the Pillow Book’s appeal rather than depreciates it.