One of the great things about Tufts is how worldly the students are, so I apologize if I'm preaching to the choir about this, but I think it bears mention. To set the scene, I've spent the last month traveling all over New Zealand on the supercheap. That means I've been splitting my nights between hostels and campgrounds. While backpacking like this certainly has its thorns, it has allowed me to meet tons of interesting (mostly savory) people. Two things in particular struck me about the travelers that I have met: first, the relatively small number of Americans — especially those my age — and second, the duration of my bunkmates' travels.
Take my new Israeli friends for instance. Most of them have finished their compulsory army tours and are traveling for a full year before going to college. And I thought I was roughing it with my measly month! I asked them how long they'd been travelling for, and they offhandedly mentioned that they had been out for three months — in New Zealand alone. Taking that much time off of "real life" is really foreign to me.
Take the German girl in the tent next to me at a campground outside of Christchurch. She had already spent two months in New Zealand, and this was only one stop of many for her.
These are not isolated cases. Most of those I met weren't working or studying abroad — they were just seeing the world with a backpack and a decent bankroll. Now I'm not talking about adults here, although there were plenty of those, too — I'm talking about people my age with no plans other than to see the world in all its glory.
And now it has finally occurred to me why there were almost no young Americans anywhere I traveled: They were too busy fulfilling the so−called "American Dream." Shunted directly from high school into college with summers full of internships and jobs, the American way of doing things doesn't leave a lot of room for gap years — especially not if you want to be competitive in such a tight job market. And if you're lucky, four rigorous years in college might earn you the privilege of being hired directly into a top−notch job where you will spend your days (and nights) working hard to achieve your career goals.
For many, this is the American ideal of success. But at what cost?
OK, I exaggerate a little. First of all, this doesn't describe all students, and most corporations aren't evil entities out to devour college graduates. In fact, I'll be the first to admit that my goals fall somewhere along these lines. I want to be successful; I'm prepared to work hard for it, and that is the same mindset I see among most of my friends. But even my short time traveling has opened my eyes to the fact that there are other ways than the American way. The American version of success is great, but it's also very limiting. Many are afraid to take a year off before or after college to explore the globe for fear of becoming obsolete. Traveling like that just isn't done by Americans with the same frequency as many other cultures, and I think we, as a society, miss out on a lot because of it.
Don't get me wrong — I'm not suggesting that everyone should drop everything and book a one−way ticket to Tuvalu. But before we all get cast into our careers and life endows us with even more responsibilities and obligations, it's worth taking a moment to stop and think. It's a big world out there, and as apple pie as the American Dream may be, you're cheating yourself if you think it's the only way.
So take that trip. See the world. Even if you can't take a year, take a month or even just a week and simply explore. They say youth is wasted on the young, so don't let that be you! You're only young once, so make the best of it.
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