Last year, I was “Michelle Dimino, a sophomore in Mather concentrating in Romance Languages.” Now, I’m “Michelle Dimino, a junior in Kirkland concentrating in Literature.”
Basically, I’ve taken “shopping week” to the next level, making my time at Harvard something of a two-and-a-half-year shopping period. And I think I’ve finally started to get the system down pat.
For the record, I didn’t expect this from myself. I’ve always been indecisive, and readily admit that, but I’ve also always to some extent feared and often avoided change itself. Before coming to college, I was very set in my ways: I knew what I wanted to study, what I wanted to do after graduation, and what I would do to get there. College quickly changed that plan. New classes and work experiences introduced me to new passions, new friends led me to new extracurriculars, and new opportunities spurred new ambitions. At the same time, an overpacked schedule necessitated shifts in priorities that took a toll on my friendships and my health, overwhelming amounts of stress led to cutting back on commitments and backing out of leadership roles, and new opportunities spurred new questions and new fears about my future. And that’s how I got to here, a junior in my first year in a new House and a new concentration, having changed two of the biggest labels that Harvard students tend to identify themselves with.
Harvard sends mixed signals on this one, if you ask me. This place inherently encourages searching and exploration, inviting you to test drive your classes, comp your extracurriculars, start something new on campus, or lead something that already exists to new places. There’s a spirit of advancement and continuous alteration here, whether it comes from the school, its standards, or its students, and it’s something that I love about being a part of this community.
At the same time, Harvard can also come to define you by those labels you set for yourself, those “Harvard introductions” of the generic name + year + concentration formula. And, like it or not, a change in that introduction always carries a bit of stigma along with it; a recognition of having been in the minority to make such changes often leads to an assumption that something had to be terribly wrong to precipitate them. This certainly isn’t always the case — in fact, I’d venture to say that it rarely is — but it can be a deterrent to giving real consideration to making such changes. For the record, I did not leave my previous House because of any issues with the House itself or with my blockmates (we’re all still good friends!); and I was only three classes away from the completion of my previous concentration before I made the switch to a different department. It seems to genuinely surprise many people that I would go against the unwritten tides and make not just one but two big changes to the critical parts of my “Harvard introduction” — but what genuinely surprises me is that more people haven’t done the same.
Now, maybe I’m completely off-base, and it’s really just that everyone else is much more decisive than I am and has his or her passions and plans laid out much more effectively. And as any of you who share my general fear of change would likely agree, the only thing more intimidating than change itself is the threat of its permanence. Fortunately for us, this is college — it’s just four years, it’s a learning experience, and it’s always subject to change. Yes, it’s Harvard. Yes, expectations tend to be high in anything you pursue, and obligations from all angles can often be overwhelming. Change can seem like a scapegoat — a weakness, even — when looked at it through that lens, but when approached with consideration and forethought, reconciling impulse with legitimate developments in your personal interests, time commitments, and overall state of being, I believe its pursuit can be a sign of maturity.
I am not by any means encouraging or promoting making these same big decisions that I have, but due to external pressures, those types of choices often don’t receive the same kind of consideration that they may warrant. If any of this resonates, perhaps you should take just a second to separate yourself from your own “Harvard introduction” and try on a new one for size. If your concentration is less-than-thrilling, or your social group or sports team isn’t a fit, or the public service organization you run isn’t making you happy anymore, or you seem to fit better in another House, recognize that this is both entirely okay and often not as irreversible as it seems. College is four years, and these commitments are inherently impermanent — and I can assure you that you’ll find people here to be by and large surprisingly supportive and understanding of the little and big changes you may choose to make in your schedule, the activities you participate in, and the way you structure your life. Change is more welcomed here than we often anticipate. Yes, this is Harvard, but it’s also your life.
You’re almost done with shopping week. It’s about picking your classes, yes, but what it’s really about is appreciating your options, recognizing that decisions aren’t always meant to define you, and not settling for less than what you love. So shop around a bit, and don’t be so quick to let that stop when you turn in your study card.