Just because I go to all of my seminars doesn’t mean I’m a nerd

I was first branded a nerd at the age of eight when I rocked up to school with a Beyblade stadium. It was a bright orange amphitheatre of dreams: I wasn’t even good at Beyblade, but there was something distinctly arousing about ripping in to the plastic cavern that kept me coming back for more.

The other boys thought it was a step too far, that the faux-wood desks were sufficient for our primary-school duelling. I felt marginalised, but almost like I was too good for the world and being bullied because of it. What was wrong with going the extra mile? Surely this was just the logical step?

Nothing changes, does it? Today, as a 20-year-old student, I’m still labelled a nerd, except Beyblade stadiums are now full seminar attendance and table crevasses are lost knowledge.

I still think about it

“Oh God, I’ve not been to a single 9am all year!” my friends tell me, proud of their ineptitude. I’m never quite sure of the appropriate response at this point: “Why not?” seems too obvious, “I’m sure that nine grand you’ve spent was good value for money” is too aggressive. So I tend to just nod nonchalantly and tell them I’ve made all of mine when they ask.

It’s at this point I’m stared at through a confused, furrowed brow, “but, but, but, I swear you were drinking last night?”

“Yeah I was, I just set an alarm and got up.”

Usually I’ll go on to explain that I’ve not missed an hour of contact time all term, and it’s at this point that shit hits the fan. Discombobulated, hysterical crowds amass as they try to understand how I do it. Then they’ll look at me, one eye brow raised, exchanging subtle eye contact with the rest of the audience, in exactly the same way the boys at school did when I pulled the Beyblade stadium out of my sports bag.

I drank ALL of that

What I don’t understand is why it’s so weird that I go to all my seminars. I pay £9000 a year to go to university; that’s 1200 years worth of Netflix subscription – I can watch Making a Murderer when I get home.

I also view seminars as an investment of my time, I skim read my readings, I understand the lecture and then I develop my understanding in the seminar. Yes, this is a clichéd buzz phrase but it’s true. You’ve got to understand it at some point so why not do it now rather than spend extra hours staring at your empty notebook come exam season.

The people who give it large about skipping lectures are the very same people who sit at home in the holidays crying from stress in their rooms, who stay up all night desperately trying to reach the word count, and who return for exams saying, “yeah I didn’t do much really, just got pissed with my home mates haha x”

Knowledge is power

In a horrendously ironic move I’m going to dispel my ‘nerd’ label with an appeal to the Dictionary. The OED defines a nerd as, “a foolish or contemptible person who lacks social skills or is boringly studious.”

Sometimes I spice things up in my seminars. If I’ve got one after midday I might have a cheeky beer before hand, hell if I’m feeling reckless I’ll have one after. I’ll do this with friends, obviously, we’ll have a chat about cool, non-nerdy stuff like parties and alcohol and girls – if that’s not ‘social skills’ then I don’t know what is.

Meanwhile, the real nerds are cooped up in bed on their own.

If seeing your mates, getting your money’s worth from your degree and having stress-free holidays makes me a nerd then fuck it I’ll take the stick.

Viva la nerd.