Thursday, April 26, 2012

A Trip to Neverland


College is like Wendy’s trip to Neverland. It’s a break from reality—a trip to a place entirely different from the life you’ve always known. But really, it’s preparing you for the reality you’re headed back to. In the midst of the crazy adventure you take on for 4 years (or 5, or 6), you learn how to handle real life. It’s a trip to Neverland.

One of my professors loves to say that college is not academic; it’s cultural. Often this is why employers don’t care so much what your degree is exactly—they just want to know you got one. A person who has spent 4 years focused so singularly on this one thing has had experiences that change him and mold him in a way others cannot replicate. I’m sorry, but community college while living at home, or getting a degree online by taking one or two classes at a time is not the same experience as living and breathing college for four years. That’s like reading Peter Pan, or seeing the play. It’s not a trip to Neverland.

College is that place we always wanted to go, but never thought we’d actually get to. It was always in the future, when we were grown up and prepared. What we didn’t realize is that college turns you into the grownup. You’re a child when you enter and an adult when you leave. Scary thought. But I’ve seen it more and more over the past few months. All these sophomores—and even juniors—in my classes seem so naïve and young. Oh, it’s not that they look so young. But they look like babies to me. They’re enjoying Neverland, living in the moment, running with Indians and fighting pirates like there’s no tomorrow. It’s exhilarating, really. Over the last four years I’ve gained a sense of freedom. I am an individual, with freedoms to do far more than I ever thought I could. I can break rules. I can speak my mind and hold my own. I can get a tattoo (and I did!). College is a place to do anything and everything, just to say you’ve done it. And to actually do it. Neverland.

But only Peter can stay in Neverland. Everyone else leaves. And when we leave, we are changed. We do not return to our reality unchanged by our experiences. In the wildness, we discovered responsibility. In the midst of our adventures, we learned to value the mundane. In doing everything, we found the few things we actually wanted to do. We entered as doe-eyed children, taking everything in. Now we’ve seen it all, and we are focused. We no longer walk down the street staring at everything around us. We walk with purpose, looking straight ahead.

We’ve grown up.