Today at lunch, right after I'd spilled my entire banana smoothie for a second time, a friend asked me if I'd turned in my graduation application yet. As if seniors need one more thing to apply for.
"What are they going to do, not let me graduate?" I asked.
"No," she said, "but they won't let you walk." I envisioned my whole family seated proudly at graduation, and me -- in a black robe that I'd rented from some sketchy place in Leb. -- feigning bewilderment when President Freedman skipped right over my name. I agreed to scribble "graduation application" onto my mental to-do list.
I then took a deep breath and summoned the courage to climb the stairs up to Career Services (an item perpetually on the to-do list). I didn't last long. I flipped through a few bulky binders (is it a sign that I always migrate toward the post-graduate internship binders?) and decided it was time to trek home through the mud and slush to take a nap.
But instead of that nap, I decided to write. I don't think I'm here simply to vent. I'm not writing to ask anyone to commiserate with my complaining. What I'd really like to do is both apologize for and try to figure out this state that I -- accompanied by more than a few of my fellow '98s -- have been trudging around in.
I think it's senioritis. In high school, "senioritis" was a liberating term. It meant throwing work to the wind and dashing off to a concert, or a world series game or a road trip. But I think we have a different strain of senioritis infusing Dartmouth's campus. I'm not so sure what we've traded in our books for, but I do know that I'm not feeling particularly free-spirited. I don't think I'm the only one, and I don't think that "winter" is an ample excuse.
I'm wondering if it's just the job thing. Some of my friends have jobs, and I'm proud of them. When I told a friend who'd just gotten a job offer that I couldn't imagine what it felt like, she said, "Like when you got accepted to Dartmouth. You didn't know exactly what it meant, but you were so psyched and relieved." I think I remember that feeling.
But even those friends who do have jobs aren't skipping around radiating energy. They're worried about whether they made the right decision, what if everyone else is in another city, what if they can't even afford tampons ...
I guess what I'm asking for is a collective "snap out of it." I'm asking the '98s to get a little fired up for something. If you're having some career angst, come talk to me so I can tell you that we'll all get jobs eventually, and you can tell me the same. But let's talk about other stuff too. Let's do other stuff too. That doesn't mean we need to walk around in drunken states all the time. I think it means let's just start appreciating again. Let's start realizing "lasts" without getting weighed down by them. It shouldn't just take our last Winter Carnival to loosen us up a little.
I know everyone has big plans for Senior Spring. We're almost there, but I don't think that means we have to toss away these last few weeks of winter. And let's make sure we hold true to all of our elaborate plans come April. Let's at least try to turn senioritis back into a term we look fondly upon.
To the underclassmen: whenever the '98s are getting a little cranky, feel free to nudge us. And please ask us about something else besides next year.
To whoever's in charge of the weather: maybe you could lend a helping hand too.
