B.a. - Pass -2012-

And these days, I wear that like a badge of honor.

October 11, 2023

“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.” b.a. pass -2012-

Honours students go deep. They become experts in one tiny slice of history or literature. That is valuable.

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. And these days, I wear that like a badge of honor

If you graduated in 2012—or any year, really—you know exactly what I am talking about. In the hierarchy of academic validation, the “B.A. (Pass)” sat in a strange purgatory. It wasn’t the prestigious Honours degree (the one with the thesis, the late nights in the library, and the job offer already in hand). It was the generalist’s badge. The jack-of-all-trades, master-of-none stamp on your forehead.

That piece of paper isn't proof of a narrow expertise. It’s proof that you showed up, that you endured four years of general requirements, that you finished what you started even when nobody was cheering for the “general” track. “I focused on surviving Econ 101, learning that

— A recovering over-generalizer, c. 2012