This morning, as my joints tingled in anticipation for the 6:30 a.m. industrial garbage trucks, and my lower back ached in fond remembrance of the trusty (but poorly-weighted) Jansport I’ve lugged around for the last three years, I realized concretely for the first time that my time at this oh-so-wonderful school was waning.
Naturally, I spiraled into nostalgia, reminiscing on the numerous highs and lows during my time on these hallowed grounds: the adrenaline rush caused by the Jumbomber’s bomb threat spree, the liberating decision to abandon my pre-med delusions, the wonders of on-campus housing.
But then my thoughts turned to an individual in a position distant from mine: you (yes, you).
To the junior who’s been hearing about The Zamboni for years but only just picked up one of our issues for the first time.
To the sophomore who finally decided it might be time to “get involved in some extracurriculars,” just as your GPA begins to plummet.
But most of all, to you, dear freshman, who picked this magazine up at the club fair—somewhere between snagging a free stress ball and accidentally joining the Federalist Society’s e-list.
I see you giggling at the Tufts Republicans booth (did they even bother showing up this year?), wide-eyed and overstimulated by your new environment. Perhaps you’re too timid to approach someone new in the dining hall, or already lamenting the 18 credits you’ve self-imposed because you thought college was about “pushing yourself.”
Let me assure you: there’s going to be so much more to this year than your 8:00 a.m. English 1 lecture (where you’ll learn the fine art of “writing”) or your Physics 1 lab in SciTech (where the real experiment is seeing if you can make it to class and not complain about the walk).
You will embark on far greater journeys—yes, even greater than Fort Lauderdale for spring break.
Whatever it is you end up doing, I hope it fits your passions—because you only have so long to realize them. Even our precious Jumbo trumpeted triumphantly over crowds before his heroically tragic death-by-train. Even our mighty cannon (well, maybe the one it’s modeled after) fired a final time after making a name for itself obliterating British ships in the War of 1812.
Someday, you too will breathe your last Tisch Library breath and close your eyes in Medford/Somerville for the last time. But today is not that day. You still have countless all-nighters to pull, hours of carefully curated procrastination to relish in, and perhaps, if the stars align, a few Zamboni meetings to attend. We’ll be here, trying to make sense of it all—one bad joke at a time.
