My advice to the Class of 2025 is this: Do not let the incline and distance stop you from spending time with friends. Responsibly take advantage of every in-person moment, even if it means traipsing the Hill. Relish the sense of belonging the Hill bestows upon you. As the maxim goes, I must practice what I preach. Let me grab my room key and a mask and get going. I’ll be down there in 10.
The intricacies of a room — the chosen color scheme, hung vinyl and sports posters, maps of a hometown city, shelves brimming with plants, the warm glow of waterfall string lights — allow a glimpse into a more private life. In these rooms, there is no pressure to contort yourself into someone you’re not and pretend to like the things you don’t. In my case, those pink dumbbells were a glimpse into a part of who I am that would never have been obvious in an in-person class.
Proponents of standardized tests tout them as the fairest way to measure merit, serving as an impartial assessment of how hard students work. But, in reality, standardized tests are epicenters for cruel optimism and self-fulfilling prophecies.