A couple of weeks ago, over break between summer and fall terms, I was getting ready to leave my aunt and uncle's home in Bryan, Texas when my grandmother suddenly asked me to stop by. I knew a three hour drive to San Antonio still awaited me that day, and I was a bit irritated. With less than a week left at home, I was anxious to get back to see my friends. But that was no excuse for Grandma. She had not seen me in six months and was determined to have some time to talk. With a frustrated sigh, I finally gave in.
When I stopped by about fifteen minutes later, Grandma motioned for me to come into her sitting room. She placed a large book in front of me as I sat down. It was her college scrapbook.
Pulling up a chair, she opened to the first page and began to talk about the first nerveracking days of her freshman year: leaving home for the first time, unpacking in the dorm room, her new roommate. Restless and preoccupied, I glanced down at the dusty, yellowed pictures. There were a ton of them. How long would I have to sit there?
Grandma turned the pages slowly, through sophomore, junior and senior years. She told me the stories behind the pictures of her friends hanging out, of her winning a sports competition, of special weekends and of the first time she met my grandfather. Grandma especially described the fun she and her friends had their last year on campus, how she finally completed her chemistry major and how she knew almost everyone in her class. I peered closely at one of the photos from her commencement. Everyone stood around smiling, frozen in time.
We finally came to the end of the book and Grandma sighed quietly. She knew that I was anxious to go, and after a few more minutes, she let me leave. I am ashamed to admit now that I walked out full of relief -- like many impatient grandchildren, I was bored with her stories of the past and just wanted to get on with my own life.
Right away, I turned my thoughts to other things, but as the flat Texas roads continued to stretch endlessly in front of the car, my mind gradually wandered back to Grandma's scrapbook. Though I had been only half-listening, there was something familiar about those old pictures.
Soon it hit me. The memories that Grandma described were exactly the ones I had either recently experienced, or would soon face. I began to wonder -- had she really been trying to bore me? Or was there something else there? When I returned to Dartmouth a week later, my grandmother's words stayed in the back of the mind. And as I watched the incoming Class of 1998 during Orientation Week, I again began to recognize some of the same scenes that appeared in her scrapbook nearly 60 years ago.
Like all college freshmen, when we first arrive at Dartmouth, we are open-minded and eager. We can't wait to meet new people, to explore new opportunities, to experience all that we can in this unique environment. We feel like we have the whole world ahead of us.
Yet, by the time we are upperclassmen, we often forget how quickly the years pass. Bogged down with classes and meetings and homework and other activities, we put off trying new things because we think we are too tired, or that they might interfere with our already busy schedules. Though we may be happy with what we do, we no longer see Dartmouth as quite the same "land of opportunity" that it was during freshman year. We often trudge around campus wrapped up in our own lives.
As I thought about it though, I started to see that we sometimes need to step back and recognize how fast time is passing. In just a few years, we will be describing our college experiences to others, and a little while after that, we may even be making scrapbooks to show to our own children, and someday, even grandchildren. Either way, it won't be long before college becomes a memory for all of us.
I have come to realize lately that whether we are new to Dartmouth or simply back for another year, we need to take advantage of this unique place when we have the opportunity to do so. Dartmouth offers us the privilege of spending our time here as we choose, but we should not let our freedom allow us to waste time. While we are still here, we need to learn from each other, recognizing the enthusiasm of the freshmen, and combining it with the wisdom of experience. Because whether we realize it or not, after four years -- that's it. When Commencement rolls around, we won't get any more chances. Our time will be up, and college will be history.
But then again, maybe that is exactly what Grandma was trying to tell me.
