(Image Courtesy of Huffington Post)
Last Wednesday, my last first day of classes began with the start of Spring semester. It’s a surreal feeling: I feel excited…and more than a little nauseous. In my senior seminar for political science, my professor asked us to rate out-loud how we felt about graduating on a scale from 1 to 10: 1 = totally panicked and 10 = totally euphoric. What struck me most as we went around the class was how deeply conflicted most people felt; the class consensus clustered around 5. Somehow I found this comforting. It was reassuring to know that I’m not the only one going through this revolving door of emotions.
Going into this year, many friends and family from home quipped that this was would be my “year”. The implication here was that my senior year of college was destined to be the “time of my life” and I should prepare myself to take full advantage of all the college lifestyle offers — the Keystone lights, parties, and Herring trips that might entail. In some important ways this year has been kind of, sort of, like that.. At this point, I’ve shed the insecurities of my freshman self and don’t feel smothered by the social mores that gave me such anxiety in past years. I have great friends; I’m interested and engaged in my classes more so than ever now that I’ve gotten my divisional requirements out of the way; and I feel comfortable with myself and my place here at Williams. That being said, senior year hasn’t been all booze, Netflix and cruise.
Williams is still Williams, after all. The pressure still exists, the work can still be overwhelming, and the campus is still isolating and remote in many ways. I am better at coping with all of this today than I was three years ago, but these facts of life for a Williams’ student haven’t just disappeared as I’ve aged. More important, my future is so uncertain. I have no idea what I’m going to be doing next year, never mind in what city, or if I will be on my own or in my room back home. I worry endlessly about whether I will be able to earn enough money to pay my own way wherever I land. To the point, senior year is certainly stressful. And full of contradictions. I see at once a world of new challenges and possibilities that alternately excites and frightens the hell out of me. After 4 years of Williams’ myopia, the thought of life outside the purple valley has me cheering one minute, “THANK GOD this isn’t all there is” and looking for cover the next as I wonder, “DAMMIT, how am going to do this”.
It doesn’t help my emotional equilibrium that some of my peers already know or seem so sure about what’s next for them. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty more of us who don’t have it figured it out yet and more than a few who might never have a clue. Still, it is difficult not to envy fellow students who have jobs lined-up or are set to attend graduate school and are moving along on a set life path. I relish all the choices and possibilities that lie ahead, but I’m ready to start winnowing my options and get down to the business of deciding what’s next. (IF YOU’RE READING THIS PLZ HIRE ME!!!)
Two weeks ago, I found myself sitting in the student center with several of my fellow senior classmates – all women and all of whom I only vaguely knew. There we sat in our sweatpants, stuffing our faces with nachos, drinking red wine, and bonding over our SWUG (Senior Washed Up Girl) status. At one point, we started to laugh about the absurdity of it all…we laughed so hard we cried…and then we cried so hard we laughed. It was the perfect metaphor for this year. And ya know what? It felt damn good. Senior year is a mess, but at least we’re in it together.