It seems a world away from our cold hills and knitting circles. That degree sounds prestigious, but a classroom cannot teach you the cost of wool or the look in a woman's eyes when a courier loses her order. My own degree in Social Work felt relevant only when I sat here, helping our co-op navigate the *jhimil*—the fine drizzle—of government forms and delayed payments. I would trust the hands-on struggle of this rented room over any integrated theory.
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