Speaking Strine

This post follows my previous introduction to the school.

I’ve already covered where I live, here’s how I live:

My four classes this term include workplace conflict management, sponsorship and public relations, strategic human resources and a general computer course. The classes take place over 12 weeks and most meet for one two-hour lecture and one two-hour tutorial each week. A majority of the teachers know the importance of giving us breaks during class while a few know their time is far too important. Whatever.

Most classes are between 15-30 students, but with such a small campus (only 16 classrooms) many run in the evening as well. I get out as late as 8:30 or 9 p.m. on Wednesdays, and I know a few that run onto 9:30. The lecturers don’t seem to mind, and I certainly don’t as long as my mornings are free, but it’s certainly a change of pace.

All of the courses are considered upper-level credit worthy except the computer class which is remedial at best. Now five weeks into class, I can proudly claim that I can beat an intermediate level of minesweeper in less than two minutes with complete ease (I only get under 90 seconds about a third of the time, but I’m not giving up). My best time is 58 seconds, but now I’m just bragging (and nerdy).

And then there are the suits. Because ICMS is a management school, because it’s open to numerous public and private receptions each week, and because it wants to justify its tuition, ICMS has every student wear a full , official school suit to class and any time they operate in the school’s “Front of House” areas. Now I have no problem with suits. In fact I kind of like the suit we were given, but it’s the days that I have to get dressed for one two-hour period that feels like a waste of time. Regardless, I look remarkably stylish in it.

Smart study-abroads wear swimmers under their uniform for beach emergencies

But what would happen if I didn’t wear my suit? Well I’d lose “Professional Conduct” points. PC points are taken away for any infracture including: skipped classes, tardiness, disrupting class, not turning in your linens on the correct day, having a room too dirty for the housekeepers to vacuum, keeping too much alcohol in your room (yes, there’s a six-pack/bottle of wine maximum per person) or any number of things.

I’m sitting at 95 PC points from my original 100 due to a skipped computer class so I could make it to a concert in Week Two. I’m a bad kid, I know. This might dip some more depending on what my St. Patrick’s Day plans are. Aussies love St. Patrick’s Day.

“Bad news, pop. I’m in the black.”

Apart from the uniform, PC points and class schedule, student life is not unlike American universities. With R.A.s, floor meetings, a student council and everything else, it’s pretty easy to adjust. Except for the food. You’d think that a hospitality school with a five-star restaurant downstairs could do their own students a little bit better. Everyday is limited to one entrée choice, salad, fruit and a roll. Vegetarian options are available and usually look better than the beef and gravy we always get, but they won’t believe you unless you produce a blood sample and take a polygraph.

Thank God the fruit is amazing. Seriously, the bananas and pears here are something bizarre and incredible. I think a later post might be dedicated to this topic. Hold on to your seats, dear readers!

One of my favorite parts of student life here are tea breaks. Holy crap, I’m hooked on tea. Part of the courtyard student dining area (called the CYC) is open air and has more hot water dispensers than cool drinking water dispensers. There are literally three times more hot water dispensers on this campus than drinking fountains (see figure 6.2). But the CYC is open 24 hours so tea is available during breaks, in the evening and at 3 a.m. when your voice is shot and you need to get a little hydrated.

Finally, the school also has a student pub on campus that is an open lounge area during the day and hosts theme parties each week. Recently renovated, it re-opened four weeks into the term after a new name contest. Previously “The Sand Bar,” a simple, obvious, but appropriate and fun moniker, the Student Representative Council picked “Class Room 17.” Ugly, not catchy, long, and silly, considering an actual class room number 17 will open next year, I can’t tell you how much everyone hates the name. We’ll still go there, we’ll still enjoy the $3 cans of Toohey’s New and free pool, but we’ll still call it “The Sand Bar.”