In the first few months of my senior year, I have been hit with two waves of emotion. One is an overwhelming feeling of sentimentality. I long to make the most of my remaining days at Emory University, an ever-dwindling stretch of time that I almost wish I could pause. At the same time, I feel restless, craving something new. I am on the precipice of a new stage in life — that scary postgraduate phase that many college seniors dread — and I am ready, yet nervous, to begin. Like two competing fronts of air on a windy day, these two thoughts clash in my head, and as they battle for supremacy, I don’t know which one I want to win.
During the second week of school, I tabled for several clubs at the student involvement fair. Between pitches to eager first-years about why they should join my organization, I surveyed the chaos of the event: a loud DJ blaring music across McDonough Field, juxtaposed against a sea of students making it nearly impossible to walk from table to table. After chatting for an hour, I felt tired, dazed and overwhelmed, but on my way out, a flash mob of sorts blocked my path: A bunch of students assembled in lines danced to the directions of a catchy tune. Watching the crowd, I smiled and reflected on the spontaneity of the moment. It was 9 p.m. on a Wednesday, and at a time when students typically study or hang out with friends, they were dancing next to snowcone machines, all after perusing the hundreds of clubs Emory has to offer. At no other point in my life will I be surrounded by such wonderfully odd and eclectic moments of joy.
However, the following week my classes and extracurricular commitments picked up. Like past years at Emory, I found myself running from one meeting to another, speeding through the day like a racehorse. Long days bled into late nights, and I quickly found myself becoming upset. I know that being busy is a privilege, but I craved a bit more autonomy over how to spend my time. Instead of having assignments to complete and meetings to attend, I longed for free time to dedicate to my own creative projects or exploration beyond the Emory bubble. So, I concluded, three weeks into senior year, that I was ready to graduate.
I find myself wanting to check this impulse, though. When I was a freshman, a senior at The Emory Wheel imparted some of his wisdom on the incoming editors. In the final weeks of his senior year, he told us not to wish away the time at college and instead be fully present in every room we find ourselves in. I took this as a blinking sign to savor this unique time in our lives. We are surrounded by interesting, driven people, pursuing their passions and taking part in meaningful opportunities each day. Yet, no matter how much I remind myself to enjoy everything that makes college so special, I find my mind wandering off to vignettes of what my life will look like after May.
As a remedy to the tendency to look toward the future, I challenge myself and others to intentionally slow down at Emory using some of these strategies. One is spending time on the University Quadrangle. There is nothing more quintessentially college than a Quad, and the majority of the student body underutilizes Emory’s. In order to slow down in the middle of a busy day, I suggest sitting for a moment in one of those Adirondack chairs (even if re-seeding is underway) and reading, calling a friend from home or simply zoning out. Sitting outside on the remodeled Cox Hall for work or a meal is another great way to slow down, saying “hi” and chatting to each friend who spontaneously passes. And, partly inspired by my recent reading of Henry David Thoreau’s “Walden” (1854) in an English class, I plan to pay more attention to everything going around me to not miss out on what makes Emory home.
In practice, it should not be too difficult to focus on our dynamic college lives without our thoughts drifting elsewhere, but we are constantly reminded that our time in college is finite. I often balk at the phrase that college is “the best four years of your life.” It shortchanges everything that has come before and is overwhelmingly pessimistic about the rest of one’s adulthood. But, I do know that once I graduate from college, I will wish for another fall of returning to friends and classes at Emory. So, as I dedicate the next several months to applying to postgraduate programs, I will try to tone down the voice in my head wishing the time away and replace it with an intentional calm.
Contact Madeline Shapiro at madeline.shapiro@emory.edu
Madeline Shapiro (she/her) (26C) is from Stamford, Conn., majoring in creative writing and classic civilizations. She manages the Wheel’s opinion section. Outside of the Wheel, Shapiro can be found playing low-stakes games of soccer, spending time outdoors and watching as many Premier League games as possible.
