B.a. Pass -2012- -
Why? Because the B.A. Pass is a degree in
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.
That kid with the First Class Honours in Philosophy? He’s a regional manager at a logistics firm. That girl with the B.A. Pass in General Studies? She runs a $2M boutique marketing agency.
Stop apologizing.
Walking into a job interview with a “B.A. Pass” felt like bringing a plastic spork to a knife fight.
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.
— A recovering over-generalizer, c. 2012
October 11, 2023
Why? Because the B.A. Pass is a degree in
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.
That kid with the First Class Honours in Philosophy? He’s a regional manager at a logistics firm. That girl with the B.A. Pass in General Studies? She runs a $2M boutique marketing agency.
Stop apologizing.
Walking into a job interview with a “B.A. Pass” felt like bringing a plastic spork to a knife fight.
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.
— A recovering over-generalizer, c. 2012
October 11, 2023