First it was the last class. Then it was the last paper. Then it was the last final. The last shift at work, the last walk around Occom Pond, the last DDS meal, the last visit with a Tucker little brother or sister. The last time the trees outside Baker would bloom with white flowers in the spring, the last camping trip to Gilman Island, the last dip in the river. God forbid, the last game of pong. And, of course, the last column in The Dartmouth.
This last term for us at Dartmouth has, obviously, been full of lasts. We were nostalgic before it was even time to grab the diploma, shuffle off the stage and leave Dartmouth as a student for the last time. We've grown teary-eyed as we reminisce, making even the worst all-nighters become fond memories that blend into the dream that is our Dartmouth experience. We ponder how nave we were to think, as we boarded plane, train and automobile to go to Dartmouth for the first time back in 1999, how 2003 seemed to be impossibly far off in the distance. This was four years that was supposed to last forever.
This reminiscing has been enough to put a damper on senior spring for many of us. Even the fun we have only serves to remind us of its impermanence. We think about missed performances at the Hop, courses we should have taken, foreign study programs that never came to pass, and, in this time of celebration, we feel overwhelmed with memories and regret. We seem to be living the definition of bittersweet.
And, somehow, with our minds clouded by these conflicting emotions, we lose track of the fact that we are all being presented with a new beginning. College graduation is no different from high school graduation; we have spent four years growing, learning about ourselves, and learning about how we feel we fit into the world, and, having our personal foundations a little better developed, are ready to move on, grow and learn even more. The death of an undergraduate experience is not death; far from it, we have been gestating within the cozy womb that is this school for four years and are finally ready to unleash the education and experiences we have gathered here upon the world.
We all owe Dartmouth something. It's hard sometimes to separate the gripes we all have with this school's management from the school itself: the collection of buildings in a pristine natural setting, the lectures led by some of the world's finest academics, the friends we've made. The experience has been phenomenal for most of us, but we cannot stop with the belief that the college experience ends with the experience itself. All of the experiences we've had are preparing us for greater things, and, wherever we go in the world from here, we largely have Dartmouth to thank for sending us on the way there, one way or another.
So now, with commencement staring us down and refusing to relent, perhaps it's time to start thinking of firsts. The first time we'll be living on our own for an extended period of time in a strange city. The first time we'll have to find our own groceries (which, even in New York, should be a welcome financial relief relative to what we've been subjected to at Topside). The first day of work, the first new friends, the first dissected cadaver in medical school, the first -- and second, and third, ad infinitum -- all-nighter in law school. The first academic paper or New York Times article published. The first class taught in the Bronx or the Marshall Islands or China.
There are so many firsts awaiting us, so many of which Dartmouth has provided for us. We have been fortunate not merely to attend this school but to have attended a school that has opened so many post-graduate opportunities for us. There is a world beyond the Greek system and door locks and DDS and all of the other issues which seem so earth-shattering here, a world that Dartmouth has helped us to break into and hopefully which Dartmouth has prepared us to improve.
I have no doubt that, at another important first, our first class reunion, we'll see that our classmates have accomplished some impressive things. Dartmouth has put us in the position to have not only bright futures of our own but also important contributions to the world. There's no stopping the inevitable flow of time sweeping us along; Commencement is coming, whether we like it or not. It's time to stop thinking about it as the end. We're 22; we have a lifetime left to live.