Making every second of Penn count

Pssst. Hey kid. Yeah you. The freshman. From New Jersey. Or Long Island. Or maybe even California (the weather sucks here get used to it). Hey.

Welcome to Penn. I'm counting on you.

Seriously. You've got to help me out here. Look at me. I'm a senior. I'm old. Disheveled. Obsolete even. Would you believe that when I came to college there was no (or at least, very little) wireless Internet? Shoot, the world was practically in black and white.

But you kids, I've heard all about you. How your SAT scores blow ours out of the water. How some of you have already cured cancer, or delivered babies in Guatemala, or delivered cancerous babies in Guatemala. Or you speak a dozen languages. Hell, why are you even in college in the first place? I should be taking notes from you, not making fun of you at parties and giving you the wrong directions to places on campus.

I kid, I kid. As if I went to parties.

Anyway, I'm serious about us all relying on you. You're the future. You'll be here when we're gone. You're going to make us look good.

Your forefreshmen have already done their part, lo these many years. Behold, Penn's new ranking: fourth in the nation! For once, we are unblemished by the indignity of sharing our position with the likes of Duke or Stanford (that'll show Stanford for rejecting you!). It's up to you to carry on the awesome.

The more you do, the better we'll look. When you make peace in the Middle East, we'll get to say "Yeah, I went to her school." We will glow with pride and make up stories about how we met you at parties.

And when you make your 17th million in the stock market, we'll also glow with pride. Either that, or envy.

In truth, Penn already has a ton of great alumni (hear that, guys? Anyone wanna give me a job? Anyone? C'mon, I'm housebroken!). Every time you take a class with someone who is the so and so professor of this and that, it means so and so (or the so and so family) gave a lot of money to make that learning happen.

Sadly, our more recent alums are more of a mixed bag. Former Wharton tool turned generic tool Aaron Karo has made a sort of career out of offering "advice" based on his collegiate observations (example: "Yes I did really throw up in my shoes." Or, "How come when you hear the Nelly song 'Hot in Herre' on the radio you're like 'oh man, I'm so sick of this song' but when it comes on in a bar you go wild?") Gee Aaron, I don't know, but I'm sure glad you ask the tough questions. Please, dazzle me with more of your post-collegiate wisdom.

One of the things I remember about being a freshman is that I'd heard so much damn advice about college, I wanted to punch the next advice peddler in the face. But I really do envy you. I don't recall much from my freshman year, but what I do remember is so vivid and so real to me that I'm pretty sure it'll stay with me for the rest of my life (and no, that midterm you're going to ace isn't one of those things).

Because, in case you haven't figured it out yet, the reason I'm so bitter is that for me it's all coming to an end. Much to my own disgust, I've become a walking, talking cliche. I'm taking more time going down Locust Walk. I'm realizing that I probably slept in one too many times (perhaps the understatement of the year). I might as well trade in my guitar for a cane and call it quits. Maybe you all know from the first day that college won't last forever, but I distinctly remember feeling like it would.

And, worst of all, I know for certain that Penn will get on just fine without me. That, one or two years removed from my departure, no one will remember my name. That institutions endure, while individuals fade quietly into the background.

And one day, not too far from now, one of you will sit at a computer with a stiff drink, trying to figure out how to sum up everything you're feeling and whether or not it's even worth it to do so.

So I'll leave you with just one piece of advice, the only thing I can tell you with a straight face.

Welcome to Penn. Don't waste a minute of it.

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