2008 Woodie Awards
Guest: A beginning and an end
Paula Vasan
Issue date: 2/28/08 Section: Opinion
As the spring semester races by, seniors must face a scary and exciting, yet undeniable reality: graduation.
The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines the term as "the award or acceptance of an academic degree or diploma." But the definition completely lacks the intense flurry of emotions students face when coming to grips with the end of an era and the anticipated immersion into the 9-to-5 working world of adult life. The definition lacks any warning of what a college student should anticipate when nearing the completion of four years filled with studying, cramming for exams, late nights of parties, basketball and football games and being constantly surrounded by friends in the safe haven known as college.
Upon graduation, the graduating senior is finally forced to confront whether his pursued major was something he enjoyed enough to continue learning and pursuing in a career, or if it will simply serve as information to store in the back of his brain to impress people at cocktail parties. Perhaps you will graduate with a degree in criminology and criminal justice and end up working for an airline after realizing travel is your true passion. Maybe you will graduate with a journalism degree and decide to teach children English in South Korea. Perhaps you have the next few years of your life planned with graduate, law or medical school, and the urgency to find that perfect job can remain somewhat in the distance. Maybe you find yourself without direction. You feel pressure weighing down on your shoulders to map the rest of your life, but you don't have a compass, or even a protractor! You don't know where to start and you don't have a destination. And when friends, family and strangers pose that often-dreaded question, "So, what are your plans after graduation?" all you can do is shrug and mutter that your plans are not yet set in stone, a most elegant way of indicating you are actively seeking plans but, at the moment, have absolutely no clue.
The anticipation of graduation, along with the excitement of entering into a new chapter of life, comes with a seemingly infinite number of unknowns. The reality sinks in intermittently. As you walk by the statue of Testudo, the university's official mascot and lucky charm especially during final exam week, for example, the fear may appear when you realize the lovable turtle's nose will not always be there to rub when you need a stroke of luck. When you're watching a movie at a friend's apartment, panic may sink in when you come to the realization that your friends may find careers in all corners of the globe. You realize that you've taken the convenience of having your peers clustered in one location for granted. Or you might feel you're just not ready to replace your comfortable uniform of jeans and oversized Maryland sweatshirts with slacks and stiff-collared shirts.
I am in the minority, coming from an enormous New York City public high school with a student population of about 4,500. I can vividly remember the first day of high school. I recall being completely overwhelmed entering the cafeteria, which was filled with so many unfamiliar faces. I felt lost and small on that first day, but gradually the 10-floor building seemed less daunting and enormous. Gradually the chairs and desks seemed shorter, the hallways more narrow, and my 1,000-plus graduating class grew from strangers into a very extended family. I grew into and out of the school. And on that first day on the university's 1,580-acre campus, with an undergraduate student population of about 25,000, I am certain I shared that same feeling I had felt my first day of high school with thousands of other intimidated freshmen. After nearly four years of calling this place my second home, the university no longer seems quite so big. Maybe it's time to move on.
When you're decked in your caps and gowns at the end of May, and the concept of being an adult and contributing member of society seems impossible to fathom, realize you are not alone. Why should we have to plan out the rest of our lives by our early 20s? The unknown leaves more room for unpredictability and exciting possibilities.
Paula Vasan is a senior journalism major. She can be reached at pmvasan@gmail.com.
The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines the term as "the award or acceptance of an academic degree or diploma." But the definition completely lacks the intense flurry of emotions students face when coming to grips with the end of an era and the anticipated immersion into the 9-to-5 working world of adult life. The definition lacks any warning of what a college student should anticipate when nearing the completion of four years filled with studying, cramming for exams, late nights of parties, basketball and football games and being constantly surrounded by friends in the safe haven known as college.
Upon graduation, the graduating senior is finally forced to confront whether his pursued major was something he enjoyed enough to continue learning and pursuing in a career, or if it will simply serve as information to store in the back of his brain to impress people at cocktail parties. Perhaps you will graduate with a degree in criminology and criminal justice and end up working for an airline after realizing travel is your true passion. Maybe you will graduate with a journalism degree and decide to teach children English in South Korea. Perhaps you have the next few years of your life planned with graduate, law or medical school, and the urgency to find that perfect job can remain somewhat in the distance. Maybe you find yourself without direction. You feel pressure weighing down on your shoulders to map the rest of your life, but you don't have a compass, or even a protractor! You don't know where to start and you don't have a destination. And when friends, family and strangers pose that often-dreaded question, "So, what are your plans after graduation?" all you can do is shrug and mutter that your plans are not yet set in stone, a most elegant way of indicating you are actively seeking plans but, at the moment, have absolutely no clue.
The anticipation of graduation, along with the excitement of entering into a new chapter of life, comes with a seemingly infinite number of unknowns. The reality sinks in intermittently. As you walk by the statue of Testudo, the university's official mascot and lucky charm especially during final exam week, for example, the fear may appear when you realize the lovable turtle's nose will not always be there to rub when you need a stroke of luck. When you're watching a movie at a friend's apartment, panic may sink in when you come to the realization that your friends may find careers in all corners of the globe. You realize that you've taken the convenience of having your peers clustered in one location for granted. Or you might feel you're just not ready to replace your comfortable uniform of jeans and oversized Maryland sweatshirts with slacks and stiff-collared shirts.
I am in the minority, coming from an enormous New York City public high school with a student population of about 4,500. I can vividly remember the first day of high school. I recall being completely overwhelmed entering the cafeteria, which was filled with so many unfamiliar faces. I felt lost and small on that first day, but gradually the 10-floor building seemed less daunting and enormous. Gradually the chairs and desks seemed shorter, the hallways more narrow, and my 1,000-plus graduating class grew from strangers into a very extended family. I grew into and out of the school. And on that first day on the university's 1,580-acre campus, with an undergraduate student population of about 25,000, I am certain I shared that same feeling I had felt my first day of high school with thousands of other intimidated freshmen. After nearly four years of calling this place my second home, the university no longer seems quite so big. Maybe it's time to move on.
When you're decked in your caps and gowns at the end of May, and the concept of being an adult and contributing member of society seems impossible to fathom, realize you are not alone. Why should we have to plan out the rest of our lives by our early 20s? The unknown leaves more room for unpredictability and exciting possibilities.
Paula Vasan is a senior journalism major. She can be reached at pmvasan@gmail.com.
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Viewing Comments 1 - 2 of 2
Kadi
posted 2/28/08 @ 7:44 AM EST
I'm a freshman, and I appreciate the points that you made, since there is also pressure for underclassmen to have a set idea of what they want to do at this point in their lives as well. (Continued…)
Eric
posted 2/28/08 @ 8:54 AM EST
Good article. It is nice to see somebody finally write a piece for the Diamondback that does not improperly use English by mixing the singular and plural (example often seen in the Diamondback, written by both regular staffers and guests: "When a person enters college, they. (Continued…)
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