The Cold Dead Eyes of George

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The first week of classes is always a strange one, and ‘syllabus week’ at GW was more-or-less in line with what I’m used to in Australia. Hour-long syllabus readings are pointless at home and I can confidently say they’re equally dry here. Not that I dislike my subjects—I’d just like to get into learning about them. What’s been more interesting to me this week is the design of the classes themselves. In Melbourne it’s not uncommon to have lectures of 500 people with a single professor, so the relatively small classes at GW are quite a departure. We have tutorials, but the close relationship between students and faculty makes it a little less futile here.

The rest of the week has been a little more eventful. The Greek dance-off at the Marvin Center was hilarious. Probably funnier than Hasan Minhaj to be honest. I went to his show on Saturday night with high expectations—having a comic fill a stadium in Australia is almost unheard of, and props to him for doing it here, but I couldn’t help feeling that we were getting less comedy and more lecture. Refugees are good, Donald is bad. Cue applause.

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Can’t raise the roof if you’re already on it

Probably my favorite talking point of this week has been the GW mascot. The university culture here is amazing, but I challenge anyone to look at George and not be haunted by that gaze. I’m honestly not sure whether to be inspired or threatened. At least we can take consolation in the fact that he doesn’t talk. A 7-foot black-eyed founding father is scary enough without him barking the ‘fight song’at us. Bring back the lovable hippo—that’s a mascot I can get behind. 

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Staring into your manifest destiny

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