On May 1, the final day of classes for all graduating seniors, I listened to professor Martha Olney deliver the “last lecture.” She discussed, among other things, the most important lesson of college: critical thinking. Teachers educate us, sometimes with great struggle, on the analytical methods and tools with which we can evaluate the world around us, and that gift they bestow upon us changes our lives.
It is that awesome power to change lives that made me, in elementary school, want to be a teacher. I remember feeling so certain, both that the dream would come true immediately and that I had an infinite amount of time ahead of me.
With these years I have accrued, my dreams have become more and more ill-defined, and my time seems to have become more and more limited. I remember when I graduated high school, freshman year felt like it was a whole lifetime ago. Now that I am to graduate college, I wonder how it went so quickly.
When we were writing college applications, my friends and I complained that 18 years was not enough to answer the question, “What will I do with my life?” It seems to me that 22 years is not enough, either. Perhaps there will never be enough time to answer this question. Perhaps this isn’t even the right question.
The only decisions we can make are ones about the present: “What will I do now?”
If there’s anything the vicissitudes of college have taught me, it’s that this place, this magical place, will lead you to countless unexpected twists and turns. For one, I walked into college thinking code was a language for an alien species, certainly not discernable to me, and I’m walking out quite fluent, if I do say so myself. For another, I learned how to sail in the Berkeley Marina, and I joined the Cal Sailing Team for a semester, having no prior experience in organized sports.
There have been a million and two surprises, not the least how this journey is ending, in my childhood home, away from new friends who have become old friends.
Professor Olney urged us, the class of 2020, to not let this moment become the defining feature of our college journeys — “Who you are, who you have become and who you are becoming has been influenced by all the time you’ve had at Berkeley, by the people you’ve met, by the thoughts that you’ve had, by the challenges you’ve faced.” The totality of this experience should vastly outweigh its premature end.
I’m grateful for UC Berkeley, for the people I’ve met, the thoughts I’ve had and the challenges I’ve faced. I’m grateful for my research professor, Clair Brown, who took a chance on a freshman and who took the time to offer me advice repeatedly over my college career. I’m grateful for my entrepreneurship fraternity, a group of people who gave me direction in my sophomore fall, who tested my limits, who inspires me often. I’m grateful for The Daily Californian Weekender department, where I’ve been fortunate enough to publish some thoughts and process the events of this final semester of college.
I regret not being more present. I know myself to be an over-committer, one who says yes to too many things at the beginning of the semester and ends up doing a haphazard job at all of them. If there’s any advice I’d give myself from 3 1/2 years ago, it would be to fully commit to one or two activities, going above and beyond what is normally required and changing those activities each semester or year. In that way, I could have done more, and I could have done it better.
I have been thinking about what comes next. I am faced, like many of my peers, with a myriad opportunities — of doors to explore. I can’t help but feel uncertain, and I fear I will be stuck ceaselessly pacing in front of this first set of decisions, like J. Alfred Prufrock, still having no impact on the world in middle age, asking himself, “Do I dare? Do I dare?”
Perhaps, we do have time, but the question is whether or not we can afford to spend that time, like Prufrock does, paralyzed by indecision.
This is a time of change; many of us have lost jobs, deferred fellowships, postponed travel or otherwise forcibly rethought the next few years. This is a time of reflection, too, especially since we’ll have a lot of time on our hands once finals are over.
After this crisis and this reflection, professor Olney reminds us, “No matter whether you stick to the life path you’ve been on (or not), you have gained so much in your time here at Berkeley. It may be a bit delayed, but nevertheless, you will go out into the world as a Berkeley grad. You will embody the ethos that is Berkeley — to use your skills, knowledge and passion to make the world a better place.”
Do I dare?
Yes, I dare.
To the class of 2020, there has been no greater pleasure than growing together with you all. Thank you for the adventure. There’s more to come of that, I’m certain.
Since this is my senior column and I get to do whatever I want, I’ll set an intention for myself and for whoever needs it. Let’s reframe the question everyday as, “What will I do now?” Let’s answer that question by acting on our plenitude of ideas and devoting ourselves fully and unequivocally to the present.
Shannon Hong joined The Daily Californian in spring 2020 as a Weekender staffer. She is graduating with bachelor’s degrees in development studies and in data science.