As we come to the last week of the school year, I find myself looking around DePauw’s campus and realizing that despite spending four (very long) years at the same campus with the same 2000 people, everything feels a little different. The same walk I make across campus, the same buildings I study in, the same routines that get me through week after week… I’ve grown this quiet awareness that they’re coming to an end. Realizing my position as a graduating senior, I’ve found myself noticing things I used to rush past: the way campus sounds at night— I’ve admittedly been appreciating Phi Kappa Psi’s ‘dad rock’ playlist blasting from the balcony on my Late Night walks– the familiar faces in passing, even the feeling of sitting in my favorite classroom. It’s not always a dramatic or overwhelming feeling, just a steady realization that something meaningful is coming to an end.
And for anyone that knows me, that’s what makes this moment so strange. I’ve been rushing to get out of Greencastle since I first realized what this university actually entailed— degree sunsets, institutional changes, and unappreciated expenditures of my tuition payments, to name just a few things. I’ve learned to really become a squeaky wheel on campus when things are going wrong, to be a “constructive complainer,” and while my belief up until these past couple months was that these experiences tarnished my campus career, I’ve had a realization that they are actually some of my biggest moments of growth. I’ve been so desperate to look for what’s next, for what is going to be better in my next chapter, that I didn’t realize the good that was coming from the present. The new friends I made on leadership councils, the critical discourse I engaged in with professors, faculty, and administrators, the relationships I cultivated from shared visions of DePauw’s future… These experiences created what I now have the privilege of calling a DePauw career.
As I’ve collected these experiences, I’ve also been thinking a lot about how much I’ve changed, even if it doesn’t always feel obvious. When I first got to college, I had a very different idea of who I was and what I was supposed to do. Some of that has stayed, but honestly, most hasn’t, and that’s probably for the best. Growth isn’t always something you notice in real time. It shows up later, when you realize you handle things differently, or think about things in a way you wouldn’t have before. Growth is also reflecting, particularly on the things you wish you did differently: opportunities you hesitated on, moments you didn’t fully show up for, those 9am classes that just looked way too optional to attend. For a while, it was easy for me to get stuck in that mindset of “I should have…,” but I’ve been slowly understanding that those thoughts aren’t just regrets, they’re clarity. They tell you what you value now, which is invaluable as you move forward. Taking a little time to recognize and validate these thoughts and reflections has made this transition to life after DePauw feel less like an ending and more like a continuation, an excited “What’s next?”
Something else I didn’t expect is how much I’ve been thinking about people. College puts you in close proximity to so many different lives, and even the relationships that weren’t constant still matter. The idea that not everyone in my current day-to-day life will stay in my life the same way after graduation is unsettling, but I’ve been finding comfort in reminding myself that this truth doesn’t make my connections any less real. If anything, it’s made me realize how important it is to just say things while you can— thank you, I appreciate you, I’m glad we met, I’ve actually learned a lot from you. Sometimes it feels silly and even smarmy for how simple it sounds, but you realize afterwards how much it matters.
All of this to say, the reflection I’ve been doing of the time I spent here, who I spent it with, and why I chose to spend it in different ways has not been remotely linear, nor has it been organized whatsoever. The truth is, despite having my fall ‘26 semester plans in place, moving forward past the confines of Putnam County has put an uneasy ball of anxiety in my stomach. For the rest of my senior peers, there’s the insurmountable pressure to have a plan, to know exactly what comes next. But if there’s one thing college has taught me, it’s that plans change… and that’s not failure, it’s part of the process. What feels more important than having everything figured out is knowing how to adapt, how to reflect and critique, how to keep learning, and how to stay open to things you never could expect.
As graduation gets closer, I’ve been trying to create small moments of glimmers for myself. As said by a dear friend of mine, and a notable graduate of DePauw, glimmers are the smallest moments of peace and happiness in your day. The feeling of sunshine on your skin after studying in Roy for too many hours, the sweet treat you get after bombing an exam, the compliment a stranger gives you on an outfit you thought was sloppy, those are glimmers that not only you can experience, but you can share with others. I know I’ve been trying to create opportunities for glimmers to appear in my remaining time here by reaching out to people for a study session, to get food, to compliment their outfit, or just to say hi. These small moments don’t always hold a glimmer, but they make the time that I have left here more complete.
While I am still struggling with the balance between valuing nostalgia and making efforts to revitalize my present and future, I know for certain that this chapter was not meant to last forever. Honestly, that truth is what makes it meaningful, and it says louder than any random tornado siren DePauw can blare, “Moving forward doesn’t take anything away from what happened here– it just means you’re carrying it into something new.” I don’t think there’s a perfect way to leave college. There’s no clean, tied-up ending where everything makes complete sense, and maybe that’s okay. Maybe the goal isn’t to have closure, but to have awareness of what mattered, what changed you, and what you’re taking with you.
Right now it feels like I’m standing between two versions of myself, or even two versions of life. But I encourage all of my senior peers and friends, rather than seeing this as something uncertain, to view it as something full of possibility. Think of your favorite memories spent in Bowman Park, or at Monon; maybe think of your favorite karaoke songs from Moore’s and your go-to ice cream order at Scoops; think of the most mind-boggling conversation you had with a professor or classmate. These visions are going to get hazier as we start to put distance between ourselves and DePauw post-graduation, but I think remembering the people and ideas and feelings that created your most memorable moments, and growing to create more impactful moments in wherever life takes you, is what will make this next step your best step yet.
To the Class of 2026, if you can leave DePauw and lead with these ambitions— with appreciation for where you’ve been and openness to where you’re going— I think that’s more than enough. Best wishes and here’s a proper toast to you and all that you will accomplish.
As best said by our final Ubben Lecturer, Trevor Noah, “We are the architects of the world we want to live in.” So, thank you for a wonderful four years, DePauw… Roll Tigs.