Today I attended my last lecture as an undergrad. If I'm lucky, I'll audit a million classes in the Fall. (There didn't seem to be a sufficiently compelling reason to stick around and pay tuition.) There's the remote possibility of going to grad school (toward which end I have collected zero letters of recommendation). But, basically, the fun part of my existence as a student ended today. Where I am now, I can think of lots of ways to have improved on my strategies as a student. So at least I learned that much.
It occurred to me, though, as I walked away from class for the last time, that I have pretty sweet bookends for my two years at Berkeley. The first class I attended there was my Theory of Knowledge class, taught by Barry Stroud--probably the best all-around philosopher at Berkeley. And the final lecture was Barry Stroud presenting a paper he contributed to an upcoming anthology of commentary on Wittgenstein. You could have worse bookends as a philosophy student at Berkeley. In fact, I'd say I'm willing to claim that you would have to do worse, if you had it any different as a philosophy student at Berkeley.
Tomorrow morning will be the last tutoring engagement at San Quentin. It will quite possibly be the last time I set foot in that prison. Or maybe not--we'll be working on expanding the program to other programs and schools. Maybe I'll have reason to go back there, who knows. A large chunk of my identity from the last few years is disintegrating before my very eyes.
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