They vanished back into the night, in search of a “real Harvard party,” or at least an alley in which to shotgun a beer or something.
I still remember how I spent the summer prior to Freshman Week, fixated on my own imaginings of a perfect Harvard, of everything I would do, experience, and accomplish during my time here.
Everyone should have, I think, at least one saddest-happiest day, because maybe the first part of growing up is accounting for the coexistence of opposite truths.
I go through life with the mentality of a tourist guidebook: In order to live to one's fullest, one must check everything off “the list.”
The biggest value of a Harvard degree is not the pedagogical experience itself, although I think that if you take a wide variety of courses and stray out of your comfort zone this place will make you a lot smarter. The value of a Harvard degree is that that it means you got into Harvard.
We convince ourselves that the problem isn’t with our day-to-day lives—it’s with how we are looking at them. We tell ourselves that we love Harvard. We lie.
Harvard is all about the numbers. Number one school in the country with 6,400 undergrads, 3,500 courses, three million volumes in Widener, 12 undergraduate houses, and 41 Division I sports teams. One basketball NCAA tournament run, two Winklevii, three women’s soccer Ivy League championships in the past four years, and a handful of 2012 Olympians.
Making a conscious effort to be spontaneous and adventurous has made all the difference to me in deriving enjoyment out of a place that I know can be stressful, high-pressure, and demanding.
Students measure their achievements by their reception and competitive value, rather than their absolute value. Personal worth and self-esteem become tied up with success.
It is through packing that it has become evident that I am leaving. The empty shelves tell me, unequivocally, that I will be gone.
If I could redo Harvard, I would study abroad and go to the Schlesinger Library just to browse. I would borrow the dog that is on loan at the Harvard Medical School’s Countway Library.
I realize that I’ve gained much more than an education—I’ve been inspired, and that’s what I’ll be most grateful for as I receive my diploma on Commencement day.
What follows is an assuredly incomplete expression of my gratitude to the folks who truly deserve it.
Much of this technological revolution is unfairly associated with vapid time-wasting.