Through the Inferno

There are those who could, at this point, quote with justifiable pride the words from the banner borne through Caesar's triumph. But, as a friend commented to me, "we conquered" can be, for some people, a rather inappropriate description of IIMA's first year. A better one - although he was politer about it - would be "we cowered on the sidelines until Vercingetorix had his hands full with Julius, and then snuck quietly past while his back was turned".

Good or bad though, it is over. And unless the glory days of Rome return, complete with the slaves on the rowing decks of the triremes, there is very little that could prove more stressful. The greatest "learning" you get from first year is the knowledge that your limits are a lot farther out than you thought they were; when you've sat up till half-past five in the morning to finish an assignment, run into your classroom at five seconds to nine, and stayed up till three the next night - all this two days before your end-of-term exams and in the certain knowledge that you weren't going to get a good grade on the assignment anyway - you're unlikely to be fazed by stress on the job.

All I can feel right now is relief. Forget placements and grades and social pressure, the biggest incentive to study in fachcha year is that if you don't, you'll have to go through it a second time. No more waiting with bated breath in front of the Quiz Notice Board, no more running through the underpass with the brown envelope on Saturday afternoons...

Congratulations to everyone who has slain, tamed or crept stealthily past the dragon. This will be a day to remember.