4. The University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, September 1994 to May 1998
I was drawn to Penn ever since I was in seventh grade. My father and I ventured down to Philly from our home in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, to visit the University's Museum of Anthropology and Archaeology.1 I don't remember know why exactly we went of this trip but I recall shuffling into the Hall of Pharaohs and being enthralled, speechless in the presence of the magnificent pillars and Sphinx heads. The darkness, how somber and holy it all felt.
I didn't know then, of course, that many of these pieces were plundered from Egypt, turn-of-last-century elitism and colonialism at their worst. Ethics aside and to be discovered later, I was impressed. So, when it came time to pick a school and, with it, in my mind at the time, determining my future, I naturally fell into Penn.
When I announced my preference to attend Penn to my parents, they were wary; nervous about Penn's inner-city location, its high rates of crime, and gargantuan tuition. But, then again, Penn is Ivy League and that counts for something, they must have rationalized.
But yet again, my folks certainly knew too well what could rosily be called my “sense of adventure,” my inability to just sit still and take things in for what they are. My dad in particular instinctively sensed that I most certainly would not sit still within the leafy and serene confines of Penn’s exclusive, proscribed campus. He knew I'd transgress them, north, south, east, and most worrisome, west. West Philly is a tough zone, full of poverty, violence, and racial disenfranchisement juxtaposed with Penn's moneyed (mostly) white innocents from the country's benign suburbs. Despite their worries, however, my parents allowed me the freedom of my own choice and funded that choice financially and emotionally. They allowed me to leap off into my own, a world of my own making that would challenge me in many ways beyond the leafy paths of Penn's (too) perfect campus.
More to come ...
1. Link to the Penn's museum: http://www.museum.upenn.edu/.
I didn't know then, of course, that many of these pieces were plundered from Egypt, turn-of-last-century elitism and colonialism at their worst. Ethics aside and to be discovered later, I was impressed. So, when it came time to pick a school and, with it, in my mind at the time, determining my future, I naturally fell into Penn.
When I announced my preference to attend Penn to my parents, they were wary; nervous about Penn's inner-city location, its high rates of crime, and gargantuan tuition. But, then again, Penn is Ivy League and that counts for something, they must have rationalized.
But yet again, my folks certainly knew too well what could rosily be called my “sense of adventure,” my inability to just sit still and take things in for what they are. My dad in particular instinctively sensed that I most certainly would not sit still within the leafy and serene confines of Penn’s exclusive, proscribed campus. He knew I'd transgress them, north, south, east, and most worrisome, west. West Philly is a tough zone, full of poverty, violence, and racial disenfranchisement juxtaposed with Penn's moneyed (mostly) white innocents from the country's benign suburbs. Despite their worries, however, my parents allowed me the freedom of my own choice and funded that choice financially and emotionally. They allowed me to leap off into my own, a world of my own making that would challenge me in many ways beyond the leafy paths of Penn's (too) perfect campus.
More to come ...
1. Link to the Penn's museum: http://www.museum.upenn.edu/.
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