I climbed the three flights of stairs to the fourth floor of Wheeler and dropped my bags with a sigh. Content to be home once again, I put in one of the CDs I received for Christmas and got to work. I had two days off before classes began, yet I knew that I had much to do. I had to begin turning over a new leaf.
Believe it or not, this is not a New Year's resolution, though the timing and title of this article do point to such a thing. This is more like a ritual that occurs at the onset of each new term, and it goes far beyond registering for classes and buying books. It is a "new term resolution," if you will, involving the construction of an entirely different mindset. Since in the worst of terms it will take me a month or so to enter such a frame of mind, I just wanted to be sure that I was ready this time around.
Of course, the process began with the ceremonial reorganization of my personal belongings into a more study-focused arrangement. The new bookshelf alongside my computer was designed to provide inspiration towards enlightenment, as was the William F. Buckley Jr.'s 366 Words You'd Like to Know 1996 Calendar. I was all but glowing at the thought of how vast my now modest vocabulary could soon become.
As I set up a new CD holder alongside my stereo, I began to think about the importance of all the time I was investing towards my academic well-being. Not only was it a relaxing way to reacquaint myself with college, but it was also a necessary time of adaptation. While the "new leaf" cliche can be overused this time of year, in this case it was quite appropriate. New classes, new professors, and new friends -- whatever part of my slate might be blemished, it could now be wiped clean.
This is one of the chief benefits of the quarter system at Dartmouth: the ever-present opportunity for rebirth. While vacations in and of themselves are nice, even better is the chance for a fresh start the following term. Our friends at other schools have far fewer options. If they are overwhelmed by the most dreaded professor of the chemistry department, they must deal with him for a full fourteen weeks. We, meanwhile, can get out of there in ten weeks, and return to campus the following term with a renewed opportunity for success.
I must admit, however, now that we are a full day into this new term of great and wonderful expectations, that it was all for nothing. The power of organization and preparation can only be so much exalted and glorified before one realizes that it means nothing once you are in the classroom.
Sure, the bookshelf which is neatly juxtaposed to my computer provides incentive, and Mr. Buckley has increased my vocabulary by three words over the first few days of this new year. However, as I sit and scan the syllabi of my classes, I now wish that I had used my time of preparation to read the works of Meister Eckhart for one of my classes rather than rearrange my room.
For after all, an education is what you make of it, and even if you prepare yourself for a lifetime, you still just have to go out there and learn. Perhaps that can be my "new term resolution" this time around, for despite its simplicity, it involves a dynamic theory of education that is easy to overlook.
While I did not set out to write a New Year's resolution, one did slip out, as I can now freely admit. For while it is appropriate to how I feel towards this term, I can only hope that it will be continued through the rest of my Dartmouth career, and beyond. And while the desire is personal, it is one that each one of us should spend more time investigating: How am I to make the most of my education?
I wish you all much luck and happiness as you discover the answers to this question over the upcoming year.
