Senior Class Reflections

Kaleesha Rajamantri

In a few months we will all be stranded in our little corner of the world – in my case potentially as a result of being deported – so I think we need to face reality. No matter how many “Oh my God, I pinky swear to stay in touch” promises we make, less than 1 percent of us will still be friends when we are old and grey. This is why, when we sit in the sweltering heat June 13 waiting to graduate, we should take a moment to reflect on everything we did in college and in life as we know it.
Lawrence, at least for me, has been a paradoxical experience. It shielded me from reality – insert breaking news reference here – while simultaneously exposing me to it – insert pop culture reference here.
I’m not afraid to admit that I am really going to miss this place, but contrary to popular belief, I couldn’t be happier. It’s high time I got out into the real world and flexed my liberal arts major muscles. Sure, there’s a vein on my body that spells out “potentially unemployed” in the right angle but don’t get me wrong – it’s going to be a stellar adventure!
Inevitably, 20 years down the line, many of us will have lost contact with each other. But, wherever we head off to, we can all find some comfort and comic relief that at one point in our lives we have walked down “the boob path” – a pathway on campus that had “I heart boobs” spray painted on it – or know how it’s not seven minutes in heaven to walk from Trever to Colman in winter term.
The saddest part of the whole collegiate experience is that the best nights are the ones you can’t completely remember, or the ones that you pieced together via multiple Facebook albums the next day. And then there are those hilarious things that make you think, “Dude, only at Lawrence…” which I’m sure we won’t forget in a hurry.
Or will we?
I’m sure none of us will intentionally forget details, but over time they will get fuzzy and you will need a friend to remind you about the fact that your brain edited it out for your ego’s sake. So, do me a favor and meet me at our 50th class reunion. I’m going to need some help remembering the time a certain someone lost his or her pants and got them back through campus mail. Would you look at that? It’s barely been a year and the details are already starting to get fuzzy.

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