A little more than two years ago, I was one of the eager travelers standing at the foot of this Orange Mountain. There were 1,243 other explorers gathered at the base, peering up toward the cloud-shrouded summit, surreptitiously eyeing the competition, ready to claim a path as their own. We were the new Class of 2011, come from all over the country and the world to accomplish a common goal: Climb the mountain few others have climbed, and reap the rewards of our toils at the base on the other side. Excitement radiated from the crowd as we broke off into smaller groups: AB, BSE, then Rocky, Mathey, Wilson, Butler, Whitman, Forbes, each assigned a set of experienced leaders to point us in the right direction as we embarked upon our four-year hike.
At the beginning of the climb, everything I came across was thrilling. To a group of people who were fresh and full of energy, every challenge was something fantastic and novel, every wrong turn was an adventure, and there seemed to be an endless number of trails leading to the top. It was hard, then, to understand why the more seasoned travelers complained about the stresses of the journey. From my perspective, this place was amazing! Every path led to something spectacular, the views were dazzling, and, best of all, it was all available to me. Even though I had to follow a trail that was already marked to some extent, all the while my guides encouraged me to forge my own path. I surged into the terra incognita confident that each step brought me to somewhere I’d never been before, and that that place was exactly where I needed to be. The most important part of this leg of my journey is that it was the first time that I saw my home from that altitude; from up there, home was just a speck in the middle of a wide world, and it was then that I realized that I was part of a much bigger picture.
By the second leg of the hike I felt confident in my sense of direction, but the rosy glow was beginning to wear off. By then some of the other travelers had become familiar, and our daily hikes were routine. The excitement with which I began my hike gave way to a determination to get to where I was going, sometimes at the expense of appreciating where I was. Every gust of wind or rocky stretch of terrain made me wonder why I had chosen to tackle this challenge in the first place, and the trails became rougher and the days felt longer. This period was the first time in which the thought of actually reaching the summit even crossed my mind. My focus finally shifted away from my familiar base camp to the distant peak and to the possibilities on the other side of the mountain. The point at which I might see what was waiting for me after Princeton seemed so far away, up until suddenly this summer it was right in front of me.
And this is where I find myself right now: standing at the summit, able to see both where I came from and where I’m going. And like everyone who has reached this point, I’ll begin my descent, moving rapidly away from familiar places while gaining a greater understanding of where I’ve been and a broader vision of where I can go. To all the travelers that feel lost at this point, I say fear not. Though the idea of pitching headlong into the unkown is scary, remember that many people have climbed this mountain before us, with great success. Have faith that your rickety sign is pointing you in the direction you’re meant to go, and follow it.
Sophia LeMaire is a mechanical and aerospace engineering major from Longmeadow, Mass. She can be reached at slemaire@princeton.edu.
Read More
Why can’t lecturers win the President’s Award for Distinguished Teaching?
Jerry ZhuLet’s acknowledge those who make “boutique teaching” possible, those who work tirelessly to make our rigorous curricula more accessible, and those who dedicate their time to advising and guiding us through all the challenges we face at this University. Lecturers should be eligible for the President’s Award for Distinguished Teaching.
Let’s acknowledge those who make “boutique teaching” possible, those who work tirelessly to make our rigorous curricula more accessible, and those who dedicate their time to advising and guiding us through all the challenges we face at this University. Lecturers should be eligible for the President’s Award for Distinguished Teaching.
Princeton’s administration of justice is Trumpian
Frances BroganThe disparity between the University’s approach to Giberson and its approach to pro-Palestinian protestors reflects a concerning trend of appeasing an increasingly emboldened right rather than resisting the threat it poses to academic freedom and the wellbeing of Princeton students.
Secular Opening Exercises? Don’t throw out the baby with the bath water
Frank StrasburgerThe secular makes no room for the spiritual. What Opening Exercises are meant to convey is the spirit of the institution so that it may be kept alive from generation to generation.
The secular makes no room for the spiritual. What Opening Exercises are meant to convey is the spirit of the institution so that it may be kept alive from generation to generation.
