Leaving Oberlin

Leaving Oberlin is strange. When you’ve been in Oberlin for a while, it starts to feel like a bubble. Leaving that bubble can be hard, especially when returning to one’s hometown. It feels like I’m being slingshot from college to high school. I come home, and my siblings grill me on my semester. What’s my GPA? How well did I perform in school? Do I have a job after graduation, and remember, graduation is only five months away. Five months until graduation. Five months. After a while, it feels like someone is going to take me out back and shoot me after five months, like my life ends after five more months.

So, leaving college is weird. It’s the conclusion to something. I’ve been trying to think about how to sum it up. It’s probably been my worst semester academically––but not for lack of trying. (Who knew Theory of Computation would be so hard?) I quit a few of my campus jobs and took on others. I made new friends; I lived in an off-campus house; I started seeing this guy, and then I stopped seeing this guy. I joined a new co-op (Tank) and completely messed up spicy chocolate cookies I was trying to make for gluten-free co-opers. I learned how to bake vegan and gluten-free. I’m still learning. I relearned how to crochet. I organized a pole dance show. I joined a dance group led by one of my friends, and when it was over, I swore to do it again next semester.

In short, I lived, as many other college students did. I don’t think I could sum it up if I tried, and I think I did a pretty poor summary of my semester above. The only way to truly sum up a semester, in my opinion, is to assess how I feel when it ends. 

I mean, I’m relieved, of course. No more problem sets. No more labs. No more trudging through snow to work at 7pm on a Wednesday night. I won’t have to see the inside of Mudd Library until January––that in and of itself is a blessing. I’m a bit sad, and come on, who wouldn’t be? I’m leaving my friends for a few weeks. I’ll miss my king-sized bed, my kitchen, and my old, creaky, falling-apart house. There’s nowhere else I’d rather despair. 

I’m excited. Every step forward means something new. I’m scared, obviously, but I like to imagine my life as a city. I’ve been walking this block for a while. I know this block better than the back of my own hand. I’m going to have to turn soon, and when I do, I will not be able to revisit this same city block. But isn’t that exciting? I will discover new streets, new landmarks, and new places I will one day call home.

But mostly, in leaving Oberlin, I’m grateful. In saying a difficult good-bye to something, I know it’s only because I’ve grown to truly love it. I wouldn’t have a difficult time saying good-bye if I only felt so-so about Oberlin. If I didn’t have amazing friends or fulfilling jobs or a life worth writing about, I’d feel perfectly ambivalent about coming home. So, in feeling sad and relieved and excited, I am grateful. My life at Oberlin is one worth living. It is one worth missing. I cannot wait to return in a couple weeks for my last semester.