Every time I exit my third-floor bedroom and walk out the front door of my sorority house, I pass the roughly 1,500 faces of former sorority members hanging in the hallways. On each floor of the house are annual composites — large, framed collections of photos of each active member in the chapter. As I brush my teeth in the morning or head upstairs after studying, I have developed a pastime of scanning the walls for fashion trends, fun hairstyles and familiar last names.
As a senior, I also look at the composites with a sense of curiosity and nostalgia. It’s hard to fathom how these pictures of youthful women, who so often remind me of myself, are now all alumni, likely with dazzling careers, wrinkles and children — some of whom are now old enough to be my peers. After all, the photos of them depict a time when many may have been the same age I am now.
Last week, my face was finally added to the gallery when the 2023 composite arrived. On it, I am pictured with an eager smile during the winter term of my sophomore year. When I arrived at my sorority that day to take my photo, I had just joined the house weeks before, and I was ecstatic to experience a part of the Dartmouth social scene I hadn’t yet been privy to. I posed for the photo in borrowed flair — zany, colorful clothing — but still conscientious to not wear anything too extravagant.
Yet, even with all my excitement, I also often felt uncertainty. I barely knew what defined quantitative social science, which is now my major, and I had yet to meet some of the people who have become my closest friends. I couldn’t imagine the internships I would land or the trips I would take through different Dartmouth organizations and classes. I had no plans whatsoever to live in my sorority senior year or in Washington, D.C. during my off terms.
In addition to the mounting uncertainty I was experiencing at the time, I also didn’t really know myself. My first two years at Dartmouth were rife with overanalysis and self-doubt, especially in regard to my academics and relationships. Of course, hindsight is 20/20, and with a now year-and-a-half of perspective on my underclassman years, I can recognize that my experiences were perfectly normal, even though they felt earth-shattering at the time.
Thus, when I look at that composite photo from sophomore winter, I see a girl who had no clue who she was, who she could be or what her future would hold. At the time, I never could have foreseen my path or place at Dartmouth. Feeling like I was on top of the world after joining a sorority, all I knew for certain was that I was eager to have a social calendar and to meet more people.
Two years later, despite what the Dartmouth X would claim, I look nearly the same. However, my eyes and my smile are slightly less earnest now than during my sophomore year. It’s not that I’m less happy these days. Rather, I know too much to have the same level of excitement. Somewhere along the way, I became a senior with very few “firsts” left at Dartmouth. I’ve hiked Gile Mountain countless times, gone to almost every coffee shop within a five-mile radius and only have six classes left to take — most of them needed to fulfill my major, minors or distributive requirements. I am, instead, faced with many first “lasts” — like my last fall in Hanover and potentially my last year as a student, that is, unless I change my mind about law school.
A few weeks ago, I experienced my last fall bid night for my sorority. As sophomores officially joined my house, I recognized in many of them the eagerness and uncertainty that I felt during my sophomore year. As I watch my new sorority sisters show up to meetings en masse, I remember my own desire to attend every event I possibly could, sometimes at the expense of my grades. When I watch them coordinate semi-formal dates, it doesn’t feel that long ago that I was sending my first-ever flitz — a flirty email — for one of my sorority’s date events.
Outside of Greek life, I have experienced even more of these lasts. I recently attended my first last a cappella “baby show” — the first performance for new members. As I watched one visibly nervous singer forget his lyrics, I was reminded of the self-doubt I had once felt. Although I won’t be here to witness it, I know he’ll grow into himself just as I did.
Thus, rather than dwell on the sadness that inevitably comes with my own lasts, I can choose to tell the people who still have so much of Dartmouth ahead of them what I have learned. I want them to discover Sanborn Library tea or learn that Monday Microbrews is a fantastic way to unwind. I want to tell underclassmen about the opportunities I wish I had applied for if I had been aware of them before their deadlines. Most importantly, I want to convey to them that most of their worries will inevitably pass.
In just over two terms, I’ll walk across the stage at Commencement and face whatever lies ahead — whether I’m ready for it or not. Yet, I can still encourage the ’28 who attended my high school to take the classes I loved and sign up for the interesting ones that I never had room in my schedule to take. I can explain to the new sorority members that taking a friend to a formal is always more fun than asking a random date and that missing one week of sorority meetings will not be the end of the world.
Ironically, all of this advice I’ve been doling out lately is similar to what I was told by older members of my sorority who were seniors when I was a sophomore. At the time, I saw them as much wiser than myself, though I didn’t internalize anything they said. Now, two years later, after talking to last year’s graduates about their careers and post-grad lives during Homecoming weekend, I’ve realized that the whole point of community is that you don’t have to grow up here alone. Delivering this advice was their way of making Dartmouth easier for those who came after them. Similarly, I tell underclassmen about the mistakes I’ve made or opportunities I missed out on so that they don’t have to make the same mistakes.
When my sorority takes composite photos this winter, my photo will be at the top, along with the other members of the Class of 2025. Soon enough, the current juniors and sophomores will be at the top of their own composites. Before we know it, years will have passed, and all of these composites will be tucked away in upstairs hallways of the house, making room for future generations of sorority members’ photos to hang on the main floor.
Right outside my room, in the upstairs hallway, hangs the composite for the Class of 2002. I have developed a particular affinity for the only girl dressed in flair, whose last name differs from mine by one letter. Twenty-two years later, everyone in my sorority now wears silly costumes and ridiculous t-shirts in our composite photo. Part of me likes to think her blue wig is to thank for that trend. Much like that girl, I hope the wisdom I pass down over the course of this year will leave the Dartmouth students who I know a little sillier, wiser and more sure of themselves than when they began.
