Every so often, like the sting of a bad dream, seniors are hit with the realization that this is our last year here. The e-mails from Career Services are noticeably more persistent than before, listing job after job and beckoning us with the promises of meeting alumni in the nauseating process of “networking.” Our worlds change before us as we watch our friends meeting in Java Zone with men in suits who represent some presumably integral piece of the “outside world.” Deadlines for fellowships and grants near and pass, but stake their place inexorably in our thoughts as we hear of friends frantically writing proposals to discuss with reputable professors and fretting about the next week’s deadline.

Here we are, still in Oberlin, OH, bottling ourselves up for hour after hour in our off-campus rooms and library carrels, researching theory upon theory to incorporate into honors projects. And the rest of our time, we are consumed with doing all the things we have never done before and we realize regretfully that we will probably never have the chance to do again. So on we go, nodding to our best friends in Wilder Bowl and hurrying to the next meeting.

Then another deadline passes, another e-mail from Career Services, another wave of anxiety about the future. In no time we will be graduating, leaving behind the comfort of Oberlin and we will have reached the inevitable: face-to-face with finding a job in the (real) world of jobs. But even this is not for sure. There is the immediate choice of joining the workforce or going to grad school and we find ourselves superficially pondering which will take less work, updating and sending out resumes or signing up for and taking the GREs.

We begin to contemplate the value of our Oberlin education. Would the prestige we associate with our expensively-unique Oberlin education be similarly recognized by the outside world? If not Oberlin’s longstanding traditions and avant-garde social choices, would our potential employers even recognize the school’s name? Would employers be banging down our doors with job offers and if so, would those jobs be at once well-paid while being socially conscious and spiritually fulfilling? The simple response to the worth of our Oberlin education would be to expand on the experiences we receive here, which, like anywhere, depend on how much we put into it. Many of us, however, continually struggle to find a balance between doing too little and too much.

For some of us, it has been weeks since we’ve seen the light of day and we wonder if we are making the best of our time here. Being completely academically-focused is not necessarily congruous with being a well-rounded, social human being. But after this year is over we will never have to work this hard in our lives again, right? For others, days go by when it seems that absolutely nothing has gotten done, while time is passed napping or sitting in the Feve. But after this year we will never have another chance to waste so much time slacking off, right?

And then we remember that our future grows out of our experiences here. So everything we have done (or not) these past years has readied us (or not) for what is to come next. We need to make sure that we are not already living in the future and meanwhile missing out on the experiences that will shape it.

We get scattered bits of news from last year’s class as they make distance from the college trough and establish themselves among the ranks of the not-so-sympathetic outside world. They suggest that finding a job that parallels our desire to be both socially active and also well-paid is not as easy as we would hope. Many of our older friends reminisce about their days at Oberlin, visiting every chance they can get.

Here we are, physically living in the land of their memory, but mentally jumping all over the place. Any conception we have of the way it will be for each of us individually after Oberlin is hypothetical and not worth squandering bits of our last precious college year at Oberlin.

Are we currently balancing being successful with successfully slacking? Are we remembering to care about our campus jobs while not caring too much? Are we maintaining our friendships with those who help us define who we are? This year, when all these conflicting pressures are leaving us emotionally unstable, or at least very, very busy, we need to take the time to put each day into perspective and consistently incorporate balance into our lives.

Editorials are the responsibility of the Review editorial board—the Editors-in-Chief, Managing Editor and Commentary Editor—and do not necessarily reflect the views of the staff of the Review.