LUC News Interview: Alumni still awaiting final essay feedback

Freezing winds whip past, broken beams creak under the weight of the snow, occasionally a wolf howl pierces the night. In a small hut in deep winter, Koen van Bronckhorst blows at his tea. Here, in the heart of the Canadian Northern Territories, LUC News managed to interview this LUC Alumni, patiently awaiting feedback on his final essay.

It has been 3 years since he graduated, but Koen has not lost his hope.

As he shutters the small window and secures the door behind me, Koen drops down on the floor and begins his story.

“When I was at LUC I would take my classes, and finish my assignments. Usually I would get feedback, even if it was more than 15 working days later. Then, I would work for days on my final essay; handing it in was pure euphoria. However all I got for the culmination of the course was a letter grade on USIS.”

Koen shivers, lays down on his cot, and pulls a blanket up to his neck. He continues.

“It is the culminating assignment for the course. And you just don’t know anything about it. You send it out there, and never get anything back except a final grade. What could I have done better? Did it even make sense? A letter grade can only tell you so much.”

A loud thud breaks off Koen’s monologue. He looks over at his shotgun propped up against the wall. He remains perfectly still, but after a few seconds of silence, he relaxes and resumes his story.

“I’ll be here, for a few more years. I don’t know where life will take me, but I hope wherever I am, the essay feedback will find me, because I really think that it will help cement what I learned in that course.”

I thank him for a great time, and after drinking some tea, he takes me back to the landing strip with his snowmobile.

“Have things changed? Do you now receive feedback for your final essay?” he asks me over the rev of the engine.

“No, only a few professors ever do it.” I respond.

We said our goodbye’s as the small Cessna landed. I waved at him from the frosty window as we circled overhead; a spec of dirt against the pure white. It was only later, in the warmth of my hotel room, that I noticed I hadn’t asked him any questions.

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