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| First Humanities Building, Lomonosov Moscow State University |
This is a true story. Around September 1996 I had a dream in which I saw a modern-looking building decorated with a plaque with carved figures on its facade. In the dream it was a building in which I was studying. In July 1997 I passed the entrance exams successfully, I had my first exam session in winter, and in summer I had the second session. I was sitting outside on the grass with a few unimates, watching the First Humanities building of the Moscow State University. I was observing the building and the plaque, as if I never saw them before. Then it downed on me that my dream came true.
The building, a hall of residence converted into a place of study, was by no means glamorous. The huge space of the cloakroom on the ground floor was always full of people and smoke. Smoking in public places is mainly permitted in Russia, and in 1997 when I began to study there the numbers of smokers was staggering. It used to house the faculties of Management, History, Philosophy, Philology, and Law.
My personal memories of studying here are by and large positive. I cannot help but affectionately recall waiting for our Latin tutor for some 20 minutes, and then to have to walk up and down stairs between floor 3 and 10, searching for a free room. Queuing up in student canteens, with little more than 10 minutes on my hands. Passing every single exam with an excellent mark. Queuing up in cloakroom next to a couple, a rather cool guy and a besotted girl who was planting nibbling kisses on his cheeks and lips while he was talking about the ancient Russian history. Being late for a seminar on an exceptionally snowy day and receiving the commendation from the tutor, a demobilised general, for “actually making it”. Watching infatuated couples embraced in a passionate kiss. Bizarrely, when a few years ago a former unimate told me he remembered me in a similar embrace, I genuinely couldn’t remember. Writing poems during lectures and seminars. Composing a play in verses, staging it, and receiving accolade from both students and tutors. The list can go on and on.
I am being asked now and again why I didn’t stay there. Generally, I chose to work and to make an impact in the sphere much more public than historical studies. But, on a grander scale, it merely means to me that I followed a George Bernard Shaw’s quote: those who can, do; those who can’t, teach. By that I don’t mean that my teachers weren’t good enough to “do” it; a lot of them are world-known, so it would be audacious of me to imply any inability of “doing” on their part. After all, to be a good teacher is also a skill. And I have always loved research, and I do like the whole process of sharing the knowledge, exchanging ideas, and passing on skills. I guess I didn’t see teaching in purely academic terms, it has always meant more to me, and in this sense I was neither interested, nor did I feel qualified to teach on that grander, universal, scale.
The title of the post is short yet poignant: this First Humanities Building, however glamourless, was the cradle in which I was born again, mentally and creatively. I realised recently that while for some people the question was “am I good enough for the MSU?“, to me the question was “Is there any better academia for me than the MSU?” Every time the answer was “no”, so by July 1997 when we had entrance exams I wasn’t trying to become a student there – I already was. My mind was entirely set on that idea. You can think of it as another example of law of attraction working, but I’m also thinking of the mechanism of a sale. It is done before it’s done. Looks like in my case it was done at night when I dreamt of that modern building with carved figures.
