Last weekend, as I stared at my iGenetics textbook for what seemed like the 10th straight hour, I became increasingly aware of the amount of time I had devoted to studying for my midterm the Monday after Winter Carnival. Facts and figures had conglomerated in my head, and progress was no longer in my foreseeable future. With second-round midterms and finals looming ahead, the quarter system never seems less friendly than in the last few weeks of the already desperately short Winter term. I sat contemplating the amount of work I had to do and felt the onset of an existential crisis.
As a high school senior, I couldn't wait to launch myself into something new. I had an idea of what I wanted to do with my life, and Dartmouth was to be the catalyst that would drive the rest of my goals to completion. After my freshman fall, however, some of the novelty wore off. In a school of fewer than 5,000 undergraduate students, faces become familiar rather quickly. All of the plans I'd so carefully constructed seemed almost ridiculous, and I felt a growing sense of disenchantment.
This isn't by any means a novel problem, especially among freshmen. Really, it's almost mundane. For the most part, we don't seem to be completely sure of what we're doing, and when we do well, we still don't. Of course, Dartmouth mitigates some of the stress associated with decision-making by postponing the terror of selecting a major until sophomore year, but that hasn't stopped our highly motivated class from looking far ahead. I'm a purpose-driven kind of girl, and at 3 a.m., my frustrations with Mendel began to permeate every facet of my life. What the heck am I actually doing here?
I suppose part of the beauty of the quarter system is its breakneck speed. A double-edged sword to be sure, but a 10-week term system certainly keeps the possibility of boredom in check. Given the speed with which we go through our school year, everything seems to meld into one. It feels as though we've hardly begun one quarter before we're picking courses for the next, and with only three slots to fill, every course must be carefully weighed and considered. Even taking "random" classes is done under the pretense of fulfilling distributive requirements, and as I chose my classes, I felt trapped by my options. While I'm certainly pleased by my prospective schedule for next term, I noticed that my choices were heavily contingent upon my plans for the future. Everything was a means to an end, and while these means can be (and often are) enjoyable, it sometimes feels inorganic, as though I'm constantly planning for my life instead of living it.
Perhaps the largest impediment to ambitious Dartmouth students is our own need for a plan. I, along with seemingly everyone else in my class, believe I am pre-med, at least for now, and it is inevitable that medical school holds a ubiquitous presence in the back of many people's minds. Unfortunately, grades still matter, as do the lists of extracurricular activities and volunteer hours that propel us further along the right path and into the welcoming arms of even higher education. We make roadmaps and edit D-Plans ad nauseam, quietly ignoring that we are not omnipotent. Realizing that I cannot schedule my life from here has been one of the highlights of my year thus far.
At the end of the day, I am not at Dartmouth to get into medical school or to become a professional or to be someone else. I came to Dartmouth because it was what I wanted. But somehow, over a single term, what I wanted took a backseat, and I don't know to what. Certainly, Dartmouth is not the end of our lives, and there will be greater experiences ahead. But to constantly anticipate what is yet to be creates its own vicious cycle. Every once in a while, I have to remind myself to look around and enjoy where I am, surrounded on all sides by incredible standards of excellence. My here and now is literally in front of me, and frankly, I can't imagine a better time or place. So, while I won't advocate a mass stoppage of studying in favor of living in the moment, I must revert to the cliche and encourage myself and everyone else to start doing and stop planning.
