A Senior Looks Back
As I was looking through old files on my computer, I found an article I wrote in September of my freshman year, though never published. Some ideas still hold true: from Skidmore’s penchant for weed to the dismal male to female ratio, our school hasn’t changed much. “Creative Thought Matters” also remains a dreadful slogan, ironic in that it contradicts genuine outpourings of creativity. I’m happy to say, however, that the puzzle piece finally fit.
Skidmore is a sea of desert boots, a plume of pot smoke, a place with an overwhelming amount of facial hair, and where the girl to straight guy ratio is unfortunately very low.
I could be wrong.
I’m only a freshman, or fondly, a first year. As I write this, I’ve been on campus for only 216 hours. About three quarters of those hours have been comprised of giving people I don’t know my phone number, awkward handshakes, getting uncomfortably drunk, attempting to read the summer reading book I was supposed to read three months ago, sobbing to my mother on the phone, and stalking my old high school classmates on Facebook only to find them deep throating a beer funnel. I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.
I’ve been introduced to North Woods, discovered the joy of waking up for lab at nine in the morning, attended an “Ice Cream Social” (I knew Skidmore looked like a retirement home but didn’t realize it acted like one), and realized that the colors red and blue symbolize more than opposing political parties.
However, I’ve only skimmed the surface.
I don’t know the ins and outs of Skidmore nor do I know what sets Skidmore apart from other highly selective liberal arts institutions. I’m constantly questioning if I’ve made the right decision. Twelve months ago, as a lowly high school senior, I envisioned colored leaves, conversations that lingered long after leaving the classroom, and an intimate community. The seasons are changing but people's interest in the United States welfare system seems to be clouded by where they’ll get their next high.
I want a school that nurtures, challenges, and supports me. I want a sense of camaraderie as well as an intellectual environment. I want to learn for learning’s sake. Creative Thought Matters may be engrained in Skidmore’s vernacular, but I have yet to see it in action.
Everything feels different. “School” and “home” are now conflated. Gone are the days of curfew, being nagged by your parents to do your homework, and being the smartest person in the room. I can’t say I don’t like this newfound freedom or adulthood. But the puzzle piece doesn’t fit yet.
I’m hoping it will soon.