There is a specific, hollow sound that a degree makes when you slide it into a drawer instead of hanging it on the wall.
But a Pass student? We had to sample everything. One semester of Sociology. One semester of Renaissance Poetry. One random elective in Geology (Rocks for Jocks, we called it). We learned to switch contexts instantly. We learned that the skill isn’t knowing one thing perfectly—it’s being able to talk to anyone about anything for seven minutes. Here is the plot twist nobody tells you at 22. b.a. pass -2012-
And in 2012, the world made sure you felt it. Let’s set the stage. The world was supposed to end in December (thanks, Mayan calendar). Facebook was still blue and relatively innocent. The iPhone 5 had just dropped. We were two years past the recession but still feeling the hangover. Jobs were scarce, and rent was due. There is a specific, hollow sound that a
Honours students go deep. They become experts in one tiny slice of history or literature. That is valuable. One semester of Sociology
That piece of paper isn't proof of a narrow expertise. It’s proof that you showed up, that you endured four years of general requirements, that you finished what you started even when nobody was cheering for the “general” track.
When you don’t have a “specialty” to fall back on, you learn to build bridges. You learn sales. You learn writing. You learn how to listen in a meeting and synthesize three different arguments. You learn that “soft skills” are actually the hardest skills to teach. So, to my fellow graduates of 2012—and to anyone holding a “Pass” degree right now:
But here is what I have learned, now a decade removed from that May afternoon in the cap and gown: