On Wednesday, the 8th of May, nine BCB seniors gathered in be’kech Anti-Cafe in Moabit to present their thesis research to a room full of students and strangers alike. The event, titled ThesisSlam, attracted a total of 40 people who all cozied up in the basement of the cafe.
This compilation is inspired by the blog Lolmythesis, in which contributors are asked to “sum up years of work in a single sentence.” I asked BCB seniors to make similar one-sentence spins on their theses after a year of hard work. Fear not, the real theses are far more academically rigorous than portrayed below.
Going to school these last few months has been like watching the last grains of sand in an hourglass slowly trickle into the bottom bulb, and I’ve been racing against time, trying to make the most of even the most mundane parts of campus and campus life.
As I chose between two outfits with vaguely Mediterranean patterns that I had worn to previous BCB Commencement ceremonies, I slowly prepared myself to see my friends graduate. I picked the long dress that I had worn to last year’s ceremony, which I didn’t get to show many people because I had to leave early
Passing through, passing through. Sometimes happy, sometimes blue, glad that I ran into you. Tell the people that you saw me passing through. –– D. Blakeslee, 1948. One year ago I was finishing a blog article about the 2015 graduation. I had just come back from my time abroad and was glad about the chance
As I write these lines, the urban landscape of Berlin slowly gives way to a haze of green as the ICE train passes along a seemingly endless stream of fields, meadows, and forests on its way to Austria. It’s been a short homecoming for me this time. Returning from Paris, where I lived during my
Subtly overwhelmed by the realization of my graduation, I, like my graduating class fellows, have embarked upon the journey of exploring the world of “what if.” Amidst the swirl of mixed emotions signalling the end of another fruitful academic year at Bard College Berlin, I found myself caught within an entanglement which marks a fixed and certain
“Commencement”: though the word is rhetorically indicative of a beginning, it has trouble escaping its connotation––at least for students––as the official conclusion, the shake of the hand, and the goodbye to the thousands of pages and hours, myriad lunch debates, late-nights, page-tabbing, research forays, and all that comes along with the pursuit of a liberal