It seems like ages ago that I first arrived on campus. Overeager and excited, I took in the gothic architecture and constantly had to remind myself that "this is home." Despite what I told myself, however, the truth was that the University wasn't home quite yet. I still viewed it through a tourist's lens, admiring the superficial majesty of Princeton while at the same time remaining totally disconnected from it. I suddenly found myself identity-less.
I had left behind the vast majority of what defined me in high school - friends, family and, to a lesser extent, activities - and for the first couple of weeks I desperately sought to fill this void. Almost instinctually, I gravitated to the small patch of common ground I shared with other students - where we went on Outdoor Action (OA), where we were living and where we were from - and attempted to form relationships based on this meager pool of information. Countless names were heard and faces seen, almost all of which were quickly forgotten. We were all just freshmen, lacking distinctive personas.
Over time, however, Princeton has become much less a spectacle to get lost in and much more a home. I evolved from an anonymous tourist into a much more comfortably established member of the community. The gorgeous buildings are no longer simply there to have their pictures taken - they are now the places I eat, sleep, learn and hang out in, the settings for my everyday life. Walking through campus now involves less swiveling my head around trying to get a glimpse of every single pretty clock tower and more putting my head down in the daily struggle to beat that clock to my next class. Similarly, on an interpersonal level, the last six weeks have seen each of us begin to carve out our own little niche within the University. The roots of friendships have begun to develop, while OA and that rather odd question pertaining to one's "academic interests" have finally been cast aside as talking points, replaced with sports, gossip and complaints about nearly everything.
It took meandering around the campus with my parents, however, for me to recognize this fundamental shift. Only six weeks had passed, but the overwhelmed, wide-eyed pre-frosh had been replaced with a comparatively confident, comfortable freshman. During drop-off weekend, my parents had acted as the sure-headed leaders, drawing on their additional years of wisdom, but that role fell squarely on my shoulders this time around. As I began to explain to my genuinely curious family how this hall was where I ate and that building was where I had Spanish, the notion that this incredible place was actually where I lived my everyday life finally began to solidify. I hadn't felt this when I was only with my classmates; it took telling visitors about how much of a home this place had become for me to actually recognize this change.
Of course, there is a negative side to this process. On the night before leaving for OA, my group slept on Cannon Green, and I could only think of just how cool Nassau Hall was. Now I walk past this landmark daily without a second thought. The shiny coating of novelty and excitement that had covered my mental image of Princeton upon arrival has been worn away by the daily grind of class and homework, and instead an unconscious indifference to the grandeur of the University has set in. Parents weekend also made me realize how, as Princeton felt increasingly like a home, I was beginning to take for granted the privilege of being able to study at such an incredible place.
So even as the craziness of midterms reaches its peak, it is important to take a step back and appreciate that we can call this Orange Bubble and all its well-manicured splendor home. For most of my class, though, this realization will probably come some time over Fall Break.
Peter Schmidt is a freshman from Chevy Chase, Md. He can be reached at plschmid@princeton.edu.
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