Dear PiePie,
A few days ago, Daddy’s alma mater announced that it would be shutting down when the newest matriculated batch graduates 4 years from now. It would mark a remarkably short run as an institution, given that I was the pioneer batch of this college and graduated just a few years ago. We disagree with the decision and will try to fight it, even if it is likely to prove futile. But a bigger question that surfaces in conversations like this is: what is so special about an institution?
This is a really hard question. And as you read this, I expect you will be in a university (or whatever the equivalent is 20 years from now). It would be interesting for you to ponder about what makes your institution so special. To others, and to yourself. Below, I will simply pen down some reflections about my alma mater and why it is special to me.
There are so many facets of any college – the curriculum, the size and diversity of the cohort, the classroom environment, the physical spaces, the type of discourse that are encouraged, the leadership of the school, the faculty etc. Taken individually, most facets are not unique. Common curriculum? Most liberal arts colleges have it. Residential requirements? That’s easy to implement. Faculty focused on undergraduate teaching? Maybe not as common in larger state universities but certainly hallmarks of smaller colleges like Dartmouth. Whatever it is, someone, somewhere has probably done it. But, taken together, in the interstices amongst all of these facets, is where something that might have been common becomes infinitely unique and precious.
My college experience molded me into who I am and defined the trajectory I am on. The common curriculum forced me to leave the comforts of science and math into the unknown realms of philosophy, political science and literature. Whilst I still have absolutely no idea how to interpret texts, it allowed me to better appreciate the skills required to do so whilst improving my ability to read, write and synthesize. These have helped me more at work than any “hard” knowledge. Yet, the curriculum is still only a small part of the experience.
A bigger influence was the seemingly innocuous interactions and challenges that existed as part of “daily school life”. It is building up a new student organization while clashing with the administration. It is figuring out how to balance course loads across semesters to pursue a program that no one in your school has done before. It is fielding questions by employers about what your school is, knowing that you alone will shape their first perceptions. It is debating about the purpose and ideal structure of a student government and how students should “come to power”. As the first batch of students, every step we took was into the unknown, guided often by youthful idealism and rarely by common sense. We failed a lot, and sometimes learnt from our scars.
But perhaps the biggest influence came from the people who traversed along this path with me. We argued and debated over trivial issues (should the dining hall serve chicken with skin?), we cursed and swore at one another, but we also hugged and laughed together. It is the people that define the values and culture of an institution. And the first batch of students were the crazies who bought into the dream of a school that existed only in theory, and created it haphazardly in reality.
My schoolmates have searched for pirates in Indonesia and travelled by train from Vietnam to Finland. They are boldly pursuing their passions in ecology and literature and education. They care deeply about the people and world around us. In college, each of us charted a path no one has walked before, and because of that, we are emboldened to subsequently chart our own paths after graduation. Each one of us is an imperfect draft answer to the question: what must a young person learn in order to lead a responsible life in this century? In every one of these “answers”, I have learnt something.
And this is perhaps what I treasure most from college – getting to know and being shaped by the diverse set of individuals who, having had their idealism put through the crucible of crushing uncertainty, is blazing their own unique trails.
We walk together, in a hundred different directions. Go Kingfishers.
Love, Dad
PS: I realized this is probably more of an emotional catharsis for me than a letter to you. I hope to write a proper one soon!