I may have jumped the gun on my higher education, since every summer in upper secondary school I sampled the varied and inspiring offerings of the Summer University. So when the time came for me to choose what to study, I had already acquainted myself with several subjects, but even so that didn’t help narrow down my options. So I ended up experimenting with how many subjects I could keep up concurrently. I began studying general linguistics at the University of Helsinki, electrical engineering at Helsinki University of Technology, and culinary studies at the Helsinki Culinary School Perho. I wanted to give each school a fair chance.

When I was studying general linguistics, a vital point of reference and a sounding board was the small group of linguistics students affiliated with our small major, first called Aspekti (‘aspect’), later Retrospekti ('retrospect'), where you could find a challenger and a counterargument to everything you read. This circle rose to particular heights when we were able to enjoy the sojourn of Jan-Ola Östman at our department. The change of name to Retrospekti must have been at the same time that the department had to relocate from the City-Center building and Jan-Ola continued on his merry way. As a change it was almost as radical as the contemporaneous radio channel reorganisation of the Finnish Broadcasting Corporation – and just like it, things never were the same again.

Many people like me – students who took a long time to find their own field – must feel that it is difficult to name a single moment or event that stands out above all others in such a thoroughly golden period. My time as a student at the University of Helsinki is one long wonderful memory, where what brings me the most delight and inspiration are the many still vivid discussions and arguments with my fellow students. Perhaps the best way to remember my studies is as a tapestry of numerous long-running, overlapping discussions that seemed to be growing and progressing all the time.

After diving into the history of my own field as well as a few others, I've come to think that the framework of professionalism is not always the best fit or the most productive for a researcher in the humanities. In the history of the humanities, there is also a fine and vibrant tradition of amateurs – of attraction to and unselfish love of knowledge – in which at best you can bypass the issues of funding and politicking in research by researching and writing privately, at your own expense.