America wins....

I woke up this morning with the stamina of a sloth.

Why abandon the relative warmth of my covers, I wondered, just to trek across campus to learn about the Irish Parliament?

Why wash my hair just to have my brain numbed by lecture?

Why uncrumple a pair of jeans just to hobble through the cold?

My enthusiasm for all things academic had long since waned. This morning, instead, I absolutely dreaded the thought of sitting through two hours of straight lecture and then trying to untangle the accent of my TA for seminar.

Five more minutes, I negotiated with my alarm clock, and nearly slept in.

Guilt, however, got the best of me and I stumbled into class with a few minutes to spare.

It's a good thing I did.

Somehow I had forgotten that my Parliament class was over and instead, my Monday morning schedule switched to a class in the Politics of Violence and Migration.

The majority of my classes to date have been rooted in the 1600 and 1700s but this class, I was delighted to discover, was purely on The Troubles and the start of the Troubles. Halfway through the lecture - which was sprinkled with anecdotes and quotes - I felt a familiar rush of excitement, once only reserved for the likes of Vietnam or 1960s classes at NC State.

This, I thought as I happily jotted down notes, is a class.

In contrast to lecturers past, this lecturer was upbeat and engaging, often bringing the class in to the discussion. He used vivid examples and photos and walked around the room. Quite a change from the usual lot in my classrooms, who often look as if they have one foot in the grave.

I could feel the part of me that once looked forward to classes and reading and papers beginning to wake up.

By the time seminar rolled around, she was as alert as ever.

At the start of class, the professor distributed "pop quizzes" to test our Troubles trivia. A number of the questions had ambigious answers, however. Such as:

When did the Troubles start:

a) 1969
b) 1966
c) 1922
d) 1892
e) 1607
f) 1169

In our discussion, he revealed the classes answers. Our task, therefore, was to negotiate a single answer for the class. For the aforementioned questioned, 6 of the 8 said 1969. One said 1922.

And then one person said... 1607?

Yup, that was me.

I had planned, during the break, to plead, "Stupid American" but as the floor opened up for debate, I found the little academic in me spring to life.

"Clearly," I said, "I can see why someone would select 1969. But I find that's dreadfully short sighted. Violence may have broken out in 1969 but the seeds were planted hundreds of years before. I think you have to start with the introduction of the New English and the Scottish planters because, when you look at a survey of Irish history, they were the first people to land on the island with absolutely no intention of assimilation...."

For five minutes I made my case, voice confident, gesturing wildly.

Gosh, I thought as I carried on, I am back.

By the time it was done I had not only made my case but shot down any rebukes.

The professor, with the slight glint of a smile, surveyed the room. "Are you telling me that you're all going to say 1607 now? The American persuaded the whole lot of you to switch?"

No one moved.

"How did this happen? How did the American win?"

From the back of the room came the gruff reply,

"Because America always wins."


I didn't because in my early morning fog I had forgotten that the Parliament class was over and instead, we switched to a class on the Politics of Violence and Migration.