B.a. Pass -2012- -

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.

It says

Why? Because the B.A. Pass is a degree in

Honours students go deep. They become experts in one tiny slice of history or literature. That is valuable. b.a. pass -2012-

But here is what I have learned, now a decade removed from that May afternoon in the cap and gown:

There is a specific, hollow sound that a degree makes when you slide it into a drawer instead of hanging it on the wall.

Walking into a job interview with a “B.A. Pass” felt like bringing a plastic spork to a knife fight. But a Pass student

— A recovering over-generalizer, c. 2012

Mine finally came out of the drawer last year. It’s framed in my office, right next to the sales award and the photo of my kid. It’s not the fanciest frame. But the document inside?

“So… what was your focus?” they’d ask. “Life,” you wanted to say. “I focused on surviving Econ 101, learning that I hate early mornings, and figuring out how to write a 10-page paper on post-colonial theory in three hours.” For the first few years after 2012, I hid that degree. I lied on resumes, stretching the “Pass” into something that sounded more like “Interdisciplinary General Studies.” One semester of Renaissance Poetry

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.

The Year I Almost Didn’t Frame the Degree: A Love Letter to the B.A. Pass (2012)

Why? Because society told me that the Honours kids were the ones who changed the world. The Pass kids? We were the backups. The general admission. The substitute teachers of the professional world.