The Sacred Union between Macedonian Students and the University

Article published on Feb. 21, 2011
community published
Article published on Feb. 21, 2011
Author: Anastazija Dimitrova

As a newly-wed to the higher educational system, I decided to write this article as a hopeful search for some answers. You see, as long as you are not in the shoes of the Macedonian students, you truly can not imagine what they are going through. But let’s start from the beginning.

While I was at high school, those who were already at university always shared stories from their university life. You can always hear stories about professors who wouldn’t give you a signature or grade just because that day they weren’t in the mood. It doesn’t matter that it is not your fault they couldn’t find a perfect parking space in the shade or that you have nothing to do with their neighbor’s dog’s decision to pee on their door mat. Today they can’t stand you and that doesn’t require a reason. Often someone tells you about the professor who gives you a harder test because you are blond or you have red nails or perhaps a beard. If you are thinking about ways how to solve this problem, I am sorry to tell you, but there is only one solution: Let it go. At least you will have a nice story to tell to your grandchildren.

You may call it luck or short time at university but I haven’t faced this kind of problems yet. During my one week of university experience I have faced a few different problems which began when I applied to university. I am absolutely sure that I wrote my home address at least seventeen times, as well as my name and date of birth. I have no idea why. They just gave me a pile of documents and told me to fill them in. The fact that I didn’t know what to write in at least half of them was not important. The fact that when I asked the secretary for help and she yelled at me for no reason at all was even less important. I understand it is my fault that I don’t have these documents at home (and they were not cheap, by the way) to practice filling them in day after day. Eventually, somehow I managed to fill everything in and I was able to move to the next stage of my education.

Finally, the D-day came and I went to the university for my first class that was scheduled for 8 a.m. on Monday morning. There we were, 50 people in the amphitheater waiting for our professor for half an hour when a nice lady came and told us that he was on a trip so we wouldn’t have a class that day. But we should not worry. We would have our next class, which was scheduled for 2 p.m.

Read the full article