I'm not one to dwell in nostalgia and sentimentality. Graduation shouldn't be about losing Dartmouth, but about carrying what we've learned from our school into the next stages of our life. Yes, Hallmark cards will be writing to me soon, and, no, I haven't gotten a signing bonus for writing this column. Graduation is a time of transition -- the biggest one I've faced so far. That simple fact can be nerve-wracking, but it doesn't have to be.
Some of us will float in our swimming pools like Benjamin Braddock in "The Graduate," some will enter jobs on "Wall Street" like Bud Fox, and others will get more schooling or find a job (sorry, couldn't think of movies that memorialize non-law and non-med. school students). But aside from what the movies tell us, most of us can't really know what life after college is like. Sure, I've worked demanding jobs for three months at a time, but how would I feel doing the same thing year after year? The future is shadowy for all of us, no matter if we know or don't know what we're doing next year.
Moments like graduation, however artificial, however uncomfortable they make one feel, make us pause and think about the past. All those who will step forth during Commencement on June 9 have spent the past four or so years preparing themselves for the future, whether they know it or not. Certainly some of us were more or less prepared coming into College, but I believe that these four years have been about maturing and finding an identity.
Freshman year taught me how to misbehave, how to do absolutely no work for an entire term, how to join activities that would have "looked cool" in high school. Sophomore year taught me the consequences of those actions. I weaned out the good from the bad, discovered some smattering of responsibility, and learned that Tubestock features many men and very few women taking their bathing suits off.
Junior year sent me out into the real world where I contracted academic amnesia. Only then did I realize that the virtual post office that sent me away forgot to put an address (in the upper left corner, which would be my eye, apparently). Cue the song: "Return to Sender." Somewhere in between I realized who my true friends were, how much I appreciated the spoon-fed atmosphere of this school. Just as I made this startling discovery, career services tempted me back out into the real world through the diabolical process of corporate recruiting.
During your senior fall, you are continually enticed by the prospect of a "plan" for the coming year. Some even achieve said plan. Eventually, however, most decide to relax a bit and enjoy the company of the friends who have been buffeted like so many Odysseuses on the seas of the D-plan during junior year. Perhaps you then contract "senioritis" and forget how to work, or maybe you enter the reflective mood during the spring. Most likely you divest yourself of the activities you did junior year and concentrate on the things that matter to you (thesis, Greek organization, pet monkey, whatever floats your boat). I know my thesis and pet monkey kept me comfortable many a weary night.
Over this period my core beliefs didn't change very much, but I do think I no longer fall into the types of cliques that were available in high school. By not assuming an already-made set of traits, I have learned more about who I am, even if I haven't changed very much. Of course, this process of self-discovery is in a sense a change: I've learned that I like outdoor activities because it allows me to think about what I like in life, not because they're social excursions. I have learned what it means to develop a work habit that matches my ambition (apparently they call it a "thesis").
I also know that when I embark across the world to Singapore for a year that I will miss a school I care about deeply. Dartmouth has experienced plenty of criticism in the past four years, but I believe that those who criticize it only do so out of the high standards that they hold this school to. I count myself among these people.
