Stuff Dartmouth Kids Like: 94 Days
I remember my first beer.
Well, not really, but I remember my first beers at Dartmouth (BG during Dimensions and TDX on the second night of Orientation). I remember the first time I rode the Dartmouth Coach and crossed the Connecticut River onto West Wheelock Street, my first class (Psych 1, obvi), the first time I ordered Collis pasta, the first time I stepped foot in the library (freshman winter, which explains a lot about my 10F grades #noparentswoo).
I love firsts. Who doesn’t? They are fresh and new and exciting and the anticipation of doing something for the first time is usually always better than the thing itself. My first pong game? My friend and I got golden shrubbed by one incredibly bored BG ’11 smoking a cigar. The game – the only way it could have gone worse is if BG played tree (Or line. Line sucks). The act of playing pong for the first time – awesome.
Yesterday was my last government class of the term. I’m in my second senior seminar, required to finish the major. It’s called Terrorism and Counterterrorism, a pretty grim subject all around. Yesterday, we talked about the future of terrorism, which according to my classmates is pretty bleak as well. We listened to a bunch of presentations and then did the standard end-of-term housekeeping – figuring out when the final paper was due, negotiating a due date from 5 p.m. to midnight (yes, freshmen, you can do this in seminars), the requisite applause for a term well taught. Then we left. And I realized that this wasn’t just my last government class of the term. It’s the last government class I’m ever going to take at Dartmouth. It’s the last government class I’m ever going to take, period.
It’s senior winter, and by the time you reach yours, you’re going to have a lot more lasts than firsts. I still have a couple things to check off my bucket list – go to Ice Cream Fore U, hike the fire tower – but for the most part, I’m out of firsts. What I have left are a million lasts, and I’ve already sped past a ton of them. My last first day of classes. My last day as a member of The Dartmouth’s directorate. My last time being on campus at the same time as some of my ’15 friends. My last rush (thank God). My last bonfire. My last fall.
For me, this year has been a combination of abject panic, rose-colored nostalgia (I definitely did not have as much fun freshman year as I now seem to think I did, though “Heart Vacancy” is still a strong presence on my finals playlists) and a lot of denial. I vacillate wildly, as I think a lot of us do, between being excited to leave this frozen hellhole to start my “real” life, and never wanting to leave a world where I live no more than five minutes away from almost all of my closest friends.
Most of the time, I think I’ll be okay by graduation. It’s only March, and graduation isn’t until June, and by the time it rolls around I’ll actually know where I’m working/living/spending the next few years of my life. And then I remember that, as of this moment, there are only 94 days left until graduation. Yeah, that’s right – 94 days.
Remember when Eric Tanner ’11 got up in Leverone and talked to us about the Dartmouth community and quoted “The Office” and told us to remember the number 1,362? As in, as of September 21, 2010, we had 1,362 days left as Dartmouth students? (Actually, it was 1,356 because he thought graduation was on June 14, and it’s not.)
1,356 days. And now we only have 94 left. At least seven of those 94 days are spring break. If you’re taking three classes, you’ll spend a little over four days in them (seriously? We’re paying $15,000 in tuition a term for a grand total of 97 and a half hours of class?). You’ll sleep a little less than a third of the time – let’s say 29 days. Hopefully you haven’t left your last three upper-level engineering classes for senior spring, so let’s assume you’re going to be in the library for around six days during the term and three or four more during finals period.
So that leaves us with 44 days worth of time. 44 days to spend with our friends and lie on the Green and do all those things we always said we were going to do. 44 days left to walk past tour groups filled with nervous-looking high schoolers and think, ‘god, when did they get so young?’ 44 days left to do the Lou’s Challenge, 44 days to flitz that girl or guy, 44 days to soak it all in before we’re scattered to the winds.
I’m not freaking out yet and this isn’t really the time to dispense pithy advice (I’m saving that for my last column – it’s going to be called Live, Love, Dartmouth and I am going to cry when I write it, guaranteed). I just wanted to let you all know that we have 94 days left but really we only have 44. So stop lying in bed watching Netflix and go do something with them.
P.S. Good luck with finals, Dartmouth. Have a fun spring break! I’ll see you on the other side.