As senior year begins, finding time to envy frosh

I swore this year would never come. I'll admit, at the beginning of freshman year, things were scary. I didn't know anyone; I had no idea where I was on campus practically the entire day, and I had no idea what my life at Princeton would be like. However, one thing I did know was that all those Seniors walking around lived in a completely different world from me. They lived in far out places on campus like Scully and Spellman (overrated), had plenty of regular friends on campus and quick and easy access to good meals and parties at their eating club (underrated). Freshman often see themselves as totally outclassed by Seniors, and in some specific aspects of the Princeton environment, they are certainly at a disadvantage. However, the one gigantic advantage that every freshman has over every Senior is easy to spot: freshman won't have to leave in only two more short semesters. It is scary to even think about, but after only one more year I'll be flung out into the "real world" and all of its "real problems." All of a sudden the problems of an average freshman seem so trivial as Senior theses, graduate school admissions tests and, worst of all, the job hunt loom. Several days ago my sister got back from Outdoor Action, after spending an entire week soaking wet and disgusting in the middle of nowhere. I was so envious.

One of the biggest problems with leaving Princeton is that I have seen the real world, and so far it has not impressed. I was lucky enough to get a reasonably "high profile" internship, something that I had been searching out for a long time. I was so excited about working at the Watergate, for an old and prestigious firm. However, the reality behind the glossy exterior was not as rosy, and it turned out to be a mixture of boredom and office politics. We at Princeton are lucky enough to spend our time being able to ask the same questions that thoughtful men (and women) have asked for ages — what is truth, who is God, which course of action is best for the nation — but those are exactly the type of things you cannot discuss in an office environment. Whenever I had the urge to say something backed by an opinion, especially when disagreeing with someone, I felt as though I ran the risk of becoming a pariah. By the end, it might have become true. While it did pay well and will look good on a resume, the intrinsic experience — what we all should look for in a life — left much to be desired. So it's with an even deeper sense of foreboding that I return for one last year, knowing that the office I left behind may be right around the corner again.

So, partially in jest, I propose the Princeton five-year plan. Princeton should recognize that the students who really try to take advantage of their time at Princeton should be able to stay, as four years isn't nearly enough time to do everything worthwhile on campus. There are so many classes I want but will never be able to take, so many lectures that I will never attend simply because of an arbitrary four-year limit. Why not allow kids who continue to add to the intellectual (and social) environment of the campus continue on indefinitely? It seems that the only students who are able to extend their time here are the ones who do not fulfill their responsibilities, as kids with failing grades are usually brought back year after year for one more chance to up the U.S. News graduation rate. Of course, I realize that my plan is entirely selfish, and that there would be many who might never leave the school simply because they wouldn't see a more attractive alternative in the real world. What I am truly hoping for is that I can live my last year here to the fullest, and graduate with no regrets.

At the beginning of my Senior year, I compare my situation to that of the character Brooks in "The Shawshank Redemption." He is devastated at the prospect of being paroled after so many years (now happily) spent in prison, and is terrified at having to leave. He is the prison librarian, an important man, and when he is patrolled he will instantly become a nobody once again. It's the same situation we face in the Senior class, although we might not be as "important" here or expect to be complete "nobodies" when we graduate. Brooks is terrified at leaving at the end of his sentence, and tries to commit a crime simply so he can stay. As I mentioned before, Princeton lets students who fail out come back over and over again, and that has gotten me thinking. Maybe if I fail a class here, neglect to write a thesis there, I could come back for another year. On second thought, I've been taught far too well to ever try anything like that. I've been institutionalized.

David Sillers is a politics major from Potomac, Md.