Junior year is weird. For the class of 2023, it’s especially so, given how disjointed our first half of college has been. I keep running into people I haven’t seen since first year and thinking of folks I haven’t seen on campus yet this semester.
Because I’m a junior. And many of my classmates are abroad.
Caroline’s in England. Daniela’s in Mexico. Bethany is—well, I’m not entirely sure where Bethany is. Twitter friends brag about their poolside air-conditioned rooms in their study abroad programs or post pictures in front of Barcelona landmarks. Without them, the grind at Wellesley rolls on. Right now, I’m sitting in an Adirondack chair on the Quint, and folks are studying at picnic tables, on picnic blankets, and in hammocks all around me. It’s Sunday afternoon. The vibes are subdued.
I’m studying abroad in the Galápagos next semester. While the ground thaws on campus, I’ll be photographing marine iguanas and taking field trips to the Amazon. I’m so excited, but I’m in no hurry to leave Wellesley again. Last year—with students all over the world—was practice for junior year. Sometimes you don’t know if you just haven’t run into someone yet or if they’re in another hemisphere.
Luckily, texting is easy. Calling is doable, too. I just got off a two-hour WhatsApp call with Caroline, who reports that her flat has a very nice kitchen and she’s excited to start classes tomorrow.
I’ve spent a lot of time this weekend on schoolwork, but instead of having a pity party about how much work I have, I’m focusing on the fun. Last night, I watched a Bollywood movie with friends at French House, and today I had a bagel in the sukkah with Hillel and chatted with a friend for two hours while editing photos of yesterday’s soccer game.
Things have been busy, and they’re only going to get busier—I’m starting my internship this week (more on that later!). I’m hoping to settle into a rhythm of how to use pockets of free time during the day. October is coming up fast.