With graduation so near, I have had the wonderful opportunity to attend several student thesis presentations this spring term. Wow! What interesting projects my fellow students have pursued over the course of the year! How special that I, a student uneducated in Japanese politics or consumer safety or Mexico, could enter a library or conference room for one hour and find myself completely engaged in this new material. Each presentation that I attended forced me to open my mind and educational experience. It was very important for me to respect the interests of my friends even if I could not relate to their academic pursuits. Generally I consider myself to be an open-minded person. But in listening to my friends, I realized two things about myself and the quality of my education at Dartmouth: I know very little, and I don't know a lot. Now, this doesn't mean that I am stupid, for I have a higher esteem of myself than that; but I have been astonished by the amount of knowledge that exists in the world that I cannot begin to grasp. There is so much to tap into in our universe and yet never enough time to pursue each and every interest. What if I lived to 100 and had never discovered Paul Klee? What if I died tomorrow without having heard Vivaldi's Four Seasons? What if I never read John Irving or visited Mount Sinai or learned how to say sauerkraut in French?
It seems to me that the more I know, the more I don't know. Yet I have also realized that the more I know, the more I want to know -- as if I am infected with a tape worm of knowledge. Having gleaned so much for these presentations, I wonder why I haven't attended more? What if a list of these presentations was published for the whole Dartmouth community to enjoy? There have been a few advertisements in The Dartmouth, but I have noticed the absence of certain departments. I, for one, would have appreciated a calender of these presentations. My attendance at these thesis presentations has also made me aware of another aspect of my life at Dartmouth: personal relationships. Last week during one presentation, I sat in front of a young woman, a '98 that I recognize from campus. Since our first year at Dartmouth I have seen her about campus often. In a way I've watched her grow up. I have always remembered her. But I'm not sure why.
Why would I be so interested in someone, a student to whom I never even took the time to even say hello. I doubt this student would know me too. The thing is, I'm not a hermit, and I think of myself as a friendly person. And yet when this young woman spoke up, raising her voice ever so slightly to ask what was a very intelligent, poignant and well-constructed question, I was surprised by the onset of my mixed feelings of awe and displacement . But why was I so surprised with my reaction to her question? What was disturbing me so greatly? I realized that it wasn't just my lack of familiarity of this woman that bothered me, for of course there are other women and men at Dartmouth who I don't know. What bothered me was that this woman could have represented all of the women at Dartmouth (and in my lifetime) that I have seen but with whom I haven't had the opportunity to communicate. Let me make a correction here. The sentence should read, "with whom I haven't communicated." I had the opportunity to communicate with her, but I didn't. How could I spend four years at a school with fewer than 4,000 students and never speak with this one woman, let alone not even know her name!
Last week I learned her name. And, I hope to never forget it. I don't know what to say for myself. I feel like I need to confess. I am guilty of something, yet I am not exactly sure what that something is...
