On being American in St Andrews

There are a lot of Americans in St Andrews.

Being an American myself*, conversations back in the US usually devolve into brief interviews on the exotic land of Fife, with questions that remain largely constant. Popular subjects include similarities to Hogwarts, the gloriously reasonable drinking age, the whereabouts of my Kate Middleton, and the weather, but there’s one question I can’t answer with a hearty chuckle that might imply I hadn’t heard the quip before:

It must be so weird not having any Americans around!

My reply usually touches on admission policies, the figure of a 15% American undergraduate population I vaguely recall from my tour, or the three way split between Scottish, EU, and overseas students, which inevitably leads to a butchered explanation of the difference between Britain and Scotland, by which point the person has completely lost interest in the question I was answering and, indeed, me.

But it is a question that deserves attention, because those outside the St Andrews bubble would never expect its vast American population – American JSAs, students, and lecturers combine to make a walk down Market Street feel very transatlantic. This is an amazingly cosmopolitan town hidden in the backwoods of Scotland.

This international quality is part of the university’s appeal to Americans, so it’s unsurprising that so many choose to study international relations. It may be the finest department in the university – it places St Andrews above Cambridge for politics in the Guardian’s league table, which is satisfying for the Oxbridge rejects among us, but also a very tangible benefit for the university. St Andrews is growing in size and stature, and Americans are leading the way.

Part of Americans’ natural charisma to the university, I’m sure, is the large fees they are willing to pay thanks to the motherland’s ridiculous tuition inflation. St Andrews is a veritable bargain for many Americans, so there’s no need for the Brits queuing to pity us. But Americans give the university resources, which is vital in the university’s efforts to attract a world-class teaching staff, which in turn has allowed St Andrews to punch far above its weight.

And yet, Americans get no respect. Thrust into a culture we knew nothing about, populated by the most unforgiving and sarcastic nation known to man, the American is out of his element. Upon landing in Edinburgh, this poor fresher is forced to defend decades of American foreign policy, which is difficult banter before he learns about the World War Two Trump Card. He must shamefully admit to studying the “typical American” subjects. He’s mercilessly mocked for his lack of ruggers knowledge while attempting to watch something called ‘Six Nations’. My plight was tempered only by my interest in football/soccer, a subject that almost every British male possesses passionate opinions about. So passionate, in fact, they briefly look past my American-ness to focus all their energy on explaining why Luis Suarez is the best player on the planet.

Anyway, I suppose my point is this: next time you see an American, buy them a pint. Because they deserve it. And because you’ll probably be right back to hurling abuse at them next chance you get.

*I am, strictly speaking, also a British citizen, a fact I cannot mention without disparaging groans from friends on either side of the Atlantic. In fact, they would be mad I included this aside, but worth mentioning in an article about my nationality. I’m an American.

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