My drink sloshed in its incongruous container an official Dartmouth paper coffee cup misappropriated after my Green Key compatriots snatched up all the conventional red Solos. Through the College logo printed on the cup's side, I gazed at my little taste of liquid courage, pondering an age-old question at an entirely absurd moment.
Trying to understand let alone explain the last four years is a futile endeavor. The education provided by this College is obviously superb. My professors have inspired me and my peers have challenged me to expand on the rudimentary skills I brought to Hanover. I've built a body of knowledge, of work and experience. The supplementary opportunities from navigating London's underground to hiking New Hampshire's White Mountains will also stay with me forever. And yet I approach this final question with the same skepticism that I have reserved for my columns in The Dartmouth over the last four years. But perhaps the question itself doesn't really matter.
The College faces as many challenges now as when I took my first steps across the Green problems like sexual assault, rising tuition, grade inflation and hazing. Too often we look at Dartmouth as a finished product, an institution that has existed for 250 years defined by a mission statement, ivy-covered buildings and an elite sense of history. Both the College's triumphs and its flaws are magnified in this static spotlight. It's a stick in the mud or a paragon of higher education. But in many ways, Dartmouth is no more complete as a college than I am as a graduating senior. I have my strengths and my shortcomings, and if you looked at me over the course of college life you'd probably think you could paint me in broad, defining strokes. But my life isn't written in four years, and neither is Dartmouth's. The College's legacy and impact can't be summarized in a pithy declaration of optimism or pessimism. Instead of half empty or half full, Dartmouth remains incomplete and that's what is important.
As the '15s, '16s, '17s and beyond walk through the halls we now occupy, they will be shaped by and in turn shape a different Dartmouth than we knew during our time. We each contribute a small sliver to this eternal work-in-progress, but there will always be efforts we leave unfinished, blowing in the breeze until the next group of students chooses to carry that banner forward.
As we graduate from these parts and pursue new goals in the broader world, Dartmouth remains incomplete. Yet our perspective on the years spent here should never be tainted by the shortcomings of our efforts, nor sugarcoated by revisionist nostalgia. And we must be content that the work of future students will be making the College a place that fits their needs, not ours. It will be up to them to decide which goals are worth pursuing, which part of our mission statement must be revisited.
To me, Dartmouth still holds tremendous unfulfilled promise, waiting to be unlocked if we're unwilling to be satisfied with the present. But my time is quickly coming to a close, and new voices are springing up in the wilderness to take my place. Soon it will be others' turn to contemplate the meaning of their time at the College, to question both its positive and negative impacts.
After all, no matter how empty or full the drink, you can't nurse it forever. Time to drink up and move on, carrying its warm glow with you as you take your first steps along the unknown path.
