Perhaps you are the "problem child," the one who, as a kid, cried at every holiday and constantly broke prized family heirlooms. Maybe you are the middle child who everyone forgets about or the sister that isn't quite as pretty. Whatever your background may be, chances are you fit into some type of category like those listed above when it comes to your family. While each of us is an individual, at home, people constantly compare us to those in our families, especially our siblings. Without siblings, there would be no youngest, no smartest, no favorite. We would simply be, well, us. Fortunately, there is a magical place where this constant sibling comparison simply disappears. It's called college. On day one, you are not the shorter one, the one who looks like your dad or the most sensitive you are just a kid who was smart enough to get into Dartmouth.
I am the youngest of three girls. In general, my family agrees that I have pretty eyes, though not as pretty as my middle sister's. I like to give gifts, but I'm not as thoughtful as my oldest sister. My sisters are both smart, but I'm the only one to go to an Ivy League school. While there are similarities between us, it seems as though only the extreme qualities of our personalities are expressed. We are used to being treated as our labels would have us the sweet one, the loud one and the creative one.
Beginning my Dartmouth career this year meant that I was wiped clean of all of these labels. As much as I love my sisters, the chance to be known as a person and not merely a last name was exciting. When I went to high school, the one my sisters had attended before me, every teacher knew me in the context of whether or not they liked my sisters. While this often worked to my advantage thank you, Corinne and Graham it often meant they already had an impression of what I would be like. Coming to Dartmouth meant there would be no expectations from my teachers other than the fact that my being here meant that I was most likely dedicated to my studies. Being judged on the basis of one's own personality and not someone else's is a privilege that few truly appreciate until breaking the shackles of living at home.
Recently, a friend offhandedly remarked that I was one of the funniest people she had met at Dartmouth. I immediately replied with my gut response that I'm not as funny as my sister. This is the kind of comparison that has been so ingrained in my system that I have never stopped to consider if it is true or not and, if it is, if it is relevant. In college, it is not your family that people are dealing with, but you. When at Dartmouth, I just may be the funniest sister.
I had been able to test this new freedom of not being compared for the first few weeks of college until this past weekend. My oldest sister, Corinne, came to visit me. I warned my roommates beforehand that a short, brown-haired person with the same voice as me would be staying in our dorm. Upon her arrival, I expected them to compare us in the same way people usually do, exaggerating our qualities in order to make sense of us together.
"Alright guys," I said, "What do you think?"
Their responses surprised me. Rather than placing us into separate camps, they made simple observations. She has more of a Southern accent, but we have the same laugh. We're both very happy. We both quote the movie "Elf" like it's our job.
For the first time, people compared us without the -ers and the -ests. I think that's what college is about. You still have your family in the background and over the ridiculously long holiday break, but the best and worst things fall away. We aren't superlatives, but in the words of one of our generation's greatest wordsmiths, Ke$ha, "We r who we r."
