Today, I finished a book I bought nearly three years ago during my freshman year of college. It’s the first book I’ve completed since middle school purely because I wanted to and not because I had to. I carried it with me from my freshman dorm room; to Cambodia for my first study abroad; to Davenport Commons A where I lived, loved, and lost my 2nd year; to the little studio in Washington D.C. where I co-oped; to the crumbling building on Mass Ave. where I often felt alone; to Rome, Italy, which I called home my final semester; and finally, back to Mass Ave. I moved those 166 pages from point A to point G, yet it was only after graduation that I was curious enough to find out what they had to say. And that’s essentially the reason why I graduated from Northeastern in three years instead of the traditional four or five.
During my time at Northeastern, my inquisitive nature was absorbed by my to-do list. I went to class, led student organization meetings, volunteered across the city, worked a part-time job and even lived in two cities outside of Boston. On paper, I did everything possible to have the most fulfilling college experience, but something felt amiss.
When my partner first suggested that I graduate early, I didn’t know what to do with myself. Could I cut all these noteworthy experiences short? Surely, I would miss out by ending my time in college before my peers. Yet, the more I thought about it, the more I realized there was a part of my humanity I had been neglecting as a student. There was a part of me that got buried under the daily grind and endless responsibilities I couldn’t seem to shake. It was that little part of me that read books for fun and learned things just to satisfy my curiosity. The part of me that drank tea slowly in the mornings and had favorite tv shows because I had time to watch them.Â
College was a gift in many ways, but it was also this immense opportunity that I felt I could barely wrap my arms around. I never quite figured out how to seize every moment without losing those little parts of myself, so choosing to graduate early almost felt like admitting defeat, acknowledging that I couldn’t do it all.
It seems no one ever wants college to end, but there I was, choosing to forgo an entire year. That decision didn’t fit within the grand idea I had of what college would be like. I thought I’d conquer every item on my to-do list while investing in myself. Subconsciously, I bought into the notion that college would be the best four years of my life. Instead, college was an overwhelming yet exhilarating three-year sprint, a whirlwind of travel, new connections and obstacles that fueled self-doubt. My experience was nothing like I thought it would be, but it was also more fulfilling than I could’ve imagined.
I’d like to think we’ve debunked the myth that college holds our brightest moments. Or, at least, I hope we’ve realized that college isn’t one size fits all. If it was, I wouldn’t be sitting here writing this. I’d still have a year of college ahead of me, and I’d probably spend it running on nothing but adrenaline. Thankfully, I chose myself over tradition, and I am so fortunate to have had the opportunity to make that decision. College was a time where I got to shine — as a student, an editor, a volunteer, an employee, a leader and much more. I’ll forever be grateful for the ways in which I challenged myself and the days where I ran ragged.
But, now, I recognize that it’s time for something new. It’s time to embrace the 9-5 life and see what the rest of those hours have to offer. I’m opening myself up to all the possibilities that come with my newfound post-grad status. I have a feeling this next chapter will involve a surprising amount of looking back, rediscovering the aspects of myself I’ve lost along my journey as a student.