Our second year was a very lucrative opportunity not so much for compensating for our failures in the previous year but for committing all our past mistakes in an improved fashion, in a manner which experience would dictate. It was the closest thing to success we could get (with two Math and three Science subjects) and soon almost anyone was indulging in that cheap luxury of content. What knowledge, we had to have but did not was archiously made up for by our exuberancein the genesis of our errors. There were so many things to be learned and only a year to commit all the necessary mistakes.

Ah, but we learned that although to err is human, it was not always excusable. How we learned that a man who learns solely from mistakes does not live long, that experience can tell us only the don’ts in life. That taste of picadillos was the simple price we had to pay for experience. But it wasn’t really experience we had but only a paltry bunch of recalcitrant mistakes. And so it came to by itself, perhaps from our temerity and obstinancy, from our shortcomings and bravado, this thing called vitue, that experience which time and mistake alone can buy. And we found this thing much better than experience because it told us the do’s in life. It was almost innate, not really learned, merely spawned by a trained scholastic instinct for trail and error. Thence, from the obscurity of youth’s weakness came the sophomore in his new brilliant accouterments of corrigible luck that could confound the next two years.