This article is featured in the 2025 Commencement & Reunions special issue.
This is proving to be an incredibly difficult piece to write for me, but I’m not surprised. I started writing for The Dartmouth during my first term on campus, and even as I was writing my first few reflections for the paper, I was always thinking about when I would be writing my very last. Back then, I could only imagine who I would become in the next four years. What kind of parting wisdom would I be leaving Dartmouth with?
I’ve already shared quite a bit during my time as a writer for the newspaper. I've written pieces that range from reflections on Dartmouth’s ever-changing pace, to reframing perfectionism and productivity, to navigating grief and loss and recognizing the love that surrounds us — including a piece on the Platonic origins of soulmates. But, there’s also a lot that I have left unfinished — so much that I have yet to write.
As I try to imagine what the next stage of my life may look like, I find myself compelled to first answer this simple question about my time here: What is the purpose of my Dartmouth education?
Most prominently, my life both inside and outside of the classroom has been blurred for the past few years, something that initially took a while to get used to. It was easy to lose sight of the fact that I was, first and foremost, a student, especially when there is no boundary between my academic life and my personal one. I started to take it for granted. I found myself complaining about the pace of our coursework, often forgetting that I was sitting in classrooms taught by globally-renowned scholars. I grew accustomed to studying in spaces like Sanborn Library, the Tower Room and the Orozco Mural Room, whose stately aura used to once stop me in my tracks.
But something that has always struck me as remarkable is the way that each class that I’ve taken at Dartmouth seems to have invited me into a global discussion. My professors have been the gatekeepers, slowly guiding me through all of the previous knowledge — the theories and stories and models — with the expectation that I come to a conclusion of my own to contribute. I feel so lucky to have had the opportunity to think critically about so many different disciplines, to have had my voice echo alongside the hundreds of other scholars who have wrestled with these big questions. I can feel it every time I walk down the stone steps of Silsby Hall, my own footsteps adding to the deep grooves in the stairs where thousands of students have stepped before me.
There is something so special about being steeped in a tradition — intellectual or otherwise — that is much older than oneself. It is such a privilege to have been the student of so many brilliant scholars, who were once the students of brilliant scholars themselves. Being a part of a scholarly lineage, taking part in intellectual discussions that have taken place since Socrates, and having professors who have invested their time, energy and care into me is something that I hope to never take for granted about my experience. Thank you to all of my lovely professors who have taught me the nuances of the world’s most pressing questions. I know that it is now up to me to try to answer them.
Similarly, I’ve learned just as much, if not more, from my peers. I’ve grown to understand that a large part of my Dartmouth education has been the opportunity to meet other people who are determined to change the world. The beauty of a school like Dartmouth is the diversity of talent that it attracts — and I’ve met people that I know will eventually become renowned artists, scientists, athletes and entrepreneurs. I’ve learned so much about life simply from listening to the thoughts, emotions and experiences of classmates and friends. Oftentimes, I’ve been right alongside them, experiencing their own growth in real time as I’ve learned from their own happiness and pain, just as they have from mine. And perhaps more importantly, I’ve learned how to disagree with them on occasion, for conflict holds within it special kinds of lessons.
The people that I have met at Dartmouth have taken me places that I had never expected to go, both physically and emotionally, through conversations and travel. Thank you to my friends who have opened up their homes to me, who have been travel companions and who have inspired me to go somewhere and try something new. It still amazes me that in leaving my laid-back town in southwest Florida for small-town Hanover, I’ve come face to face with more of the world than I ever would have back home. I’m grateful to feel like I belong to a global community.
And yet, the sense of physical place is unlike anything I have ever experienced before. Even traveling to Hanover, New Hampshire initially requires a suspension of one’s own judgement. I don’t know what I was expecting, but after hours of driving alongside the jutting granite lining the highways, it felt absurd to find a picturesque, quintessential American college in the middle of New Hampshire. Little did I know that this woodland oasis of a campus, with its quaint Main Street and all of its quirks and peculiarities would eventually feel like home. It is hard to pinpoint when exactly that happened for me, but it’s hard to dispute the ease with which I now navigate my favorite spaces on campus, their mysteries long solved by the countless hours spent within their walls.
And finally, I think the most important thing afforded to me by my Dartmouth education is the time and space to play. I’ve dressed up in silly costumes while scaling mountains. I’ve had snowball fights and played pong until late in the night. I’ve paddled and picniced and watched sunsets. I’ve camped out on the golf course and watched the shooting stars. I’ve frolicked in green fields and watched in wonder as the leaves turned. I’ve taken in the beauty of the surrounding forest. And, of course, I have had many, many nights dressed to the nines, laughing and dancing the night away with my friends. I’m grateful to have a million colorful pictures and laughter-filled memories to show for it.
It is such a privilege to have a space so distinct from the “real world’ — to be given the time and opportunity to be silly and play for just a little while longer. Perhaps this is where the real magic of Dartmouth lies: in the sanctuary of its campus, in the changing of its seasons, in its vibrant and light-hearted people who like to laugh and dance and play amongst the pines.
Thank you for everything, Dartmouth. I hope to leave you with nothing but love, love, love.
Selin Hos is a former Mirror writer of The Dartmouth and a member of the Class of 2025.
