Your 20s have to be your most haunted years, not just because of the young-adulthood purgatory of being an almost-adult who tries to accept the realities of death and taxes, but also the need to put the naiveties of childhood to rest (I’m floored to think we’re closer to the year 2030 than 2020) so we can take on the burden of becoming.
Posts published in “Senioritis”
Senioritis is an Opinion column written by one or two Stevens student(s) in their last year of study to discuss life experiences during their final year at Stevens, and other related subject matter.
There is an unspoken campus hierarchy that every college student internalizes within their first 24 hours on campus. Freshmen move in tight, slightly anxious clusters, clutching their phones with a PDF of a campus map.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what learning looks like beyond the classroom. I’m not sure what I’m looking to equip myself with going into young adulthood that hasn’t been modeled in academics.
For the past three years, my fall weekends followed a rigidly responsible script. Spontaneity had to be penciled into my calendar at least two weeks in advance.
I used to bring books to sleepovers and birthday parties when I was younger, sometimes not to read, but to hold in case some social catastrophe happened, like a lucky charm hidden in my sleeping bag that I didn’t want to reveal.
Earlier this week, sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by markers, crayons, and colored pencils, my roommate and I took part in, what some would call, a sacred college tradition — drafting the Senior Year Bucket List.
I started playing soccer in the elementary recreational league, where Saturday mornings became hair ribbons, cleats, and the smell of detergent on the grass stains smeared into my jersey.
There is a distinct, unwritten ritual to the first day of classes. You wake up five minutes before your alarm, agonizing over an outfit that says “effortlessly put together” rather than “I just finished track and field lift five minutes ago.”
Dear Freshman Year Abby,
Hey. It’s you… from the future. I wanted to use my last Senioritis article to write to you and give some spoiler alerts for your next three years.
It’s the last thirty seconds of senior year, many find the overwhelming sense of nostalgia nauseating, a constant muggy feeling in the background of every final class, club meeting, or late-night side quest.