Editorial

I’ve begun to deflect questions about what I’m doing after graduation: I tell people that I plan to eat, which is true, and probably take a nap. After that, I imagine everything else will fall into place. Earlier this week, in the midst of this conversation, I was rehashing the age-old “going into the real world” fear, when I said, “It’ll be weird to be in a place where people don’t care about me.” It’s a little harsh, but it may be true— despite its “bubble,” Conn is a place rife with people who care about you simply because they know you. There are professors who want you to do well, advisors who are willing to give advice on your life and Harris employees who make your eggs just the way you like them.
The driving reason behind this is our size, which connotes a subsequent feeling of importance: students and their input are truly taken into consideration. It’s easy to eulogize the school on our way out, but there’s a reason for student spots on administrative committees and professors who mandate class discussion: at the end of the day, this is all for us.
A while ago, another alum commented on our website with what he or she believed were the benefits of attending Conn. “Among my coworkers, my peers, my agemates […] are SO QUIET in meetings. Insanely quiet. Preternaturally quiet. They, I suspect, are sliding back into student mode— and, judgmental and generalizing a statement as this is, I suspect that their studenthood consisted largely of trying to stay awake during lectures to hundreds of other teenagers. They nod their heads, or sit staring at the people taking turns to speak. While I can comfortably have a back-and-forth with anyone from the office manager to the CFO, my peers’ opinions are sought out in these meetings, but never voiced.”
Conn given me room to move: it has let me take classes outside of my department, govern an entire floor, sit on faculty-run committees, live with my closest friends, manage a newspaper, find an enlightening internship, take Facebook pictures with the president and fly a trapeze with my professor. The past seven semesters have been a study of what might not be available after I have my diploma in hand. Amidst the final bar nights, job searches and apartment hunts, I hope that we remember that we’ve spent the past three and a half years in the best place we’ve could: somewhere where we truly matter.
– Jazmine