On Tuesday, May 21, Branon del Pozo '96 wrote on the ubiquitous and vain senior columns that begin to appear in these last few weeks of Spring term. He said, "Katie Shutzer '96 is undoubtedly planning one ..." Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) I hadn't been.
I really haven't had time to come up with the self-important advice that senior columns usually contain. You see, I am not one of those seniors with a fabulous job or a Fulbright scholarship to casually mention in between the lines of my vain, pedantic prose and I have not been feeling very self-important or even hopeful about my future prospects.
In fact, I could use some advice myself if anyone out there has some. I am graduating in less than three weeks and my mother is already cleaning my childhood bedroom to prepare for my reinstatement into the Shutzer home. I think she believes I am going to be there for a while and the way things are going, I think she might be right.
Living at home might not be bad though, considering my other options, like a park bench in Central Park or the floor of Grand Central Station. Still, there is something undoubtedly shameful to go away to a prestigious Ivy League institution and returning to the nest empty-handed.
I don't think my parents realized this possibility a few months ago. I remember getting a phone call from my mother in early spring. She said, "Katie, a letter came for you from the XYZ company, I think it's good news: They're putting your resume on file because they don't have a need right now for someone with your background." Sadly, I had to explain that this wasn't good news, but was in fact the standard ding.
All of my friends with jobs on Wall Street sympathetically offer me advice. "Be a writer!" they say. After all, this seems like a logical career choice for an English major. I just have one question for them. On June 9th, diploma in hand, do I just declare myself a writer and hope that an unknown source of income is on it's way? Or do they want to support me on their $40,000 a year? Boy, do I sound bitter ...
So, I'm sorry if this column doesn't meet the usual criteria for senior columns in the last few weeks of Spring term. I'm not writing this for underclassmen looking for a Senior role model and nor am I writing this column for myself as del Pozo suggests so many senior columnists do.
I am writing this for my fellow '96's who are in a similar predicament. Seniors who are sick of being asked by their friends and professors "What are you doing next year?" Seniors who are tired of meekly shrugging their shoulders and half-smiling when inside they are really scared. These are seniors who have worked hard and don't understand why there doesn't seem to be a reward.
There are more of us out there than you think. You only hear about the seniors who have gotten into medical school or found a great job, because the rest of us are keeping silent, staring at our calendars with trepidation as June 9th approaches us like a meteor.
So unlike all the other senior columns you will read in the next few weeks, especially del Pozo's, I have no wisdom about how to make the most of Dartmouth, land the job of your dreams, and live happily ever after.
Sometimes I think I should have worked harder at Dartmouth and gotten better grades (you won't see me at the Phi Beta Kappa ceremony). Other times, I think I should have had more fun and worried less about school.
Maybe I would have been better off if I'd been less contemplative all together. At any rate, this is for all the seniors who at some point have felt like I do right now (probably all of us at one time or another). This one's for us!
