Jasmine Fournier | One last goodbye

Hello. Some of you may know me as the zany former editor 'n chief of 34th Street magazine who woefully will soon be pushed, rather shoved, into that nebulous place commonly referred to as the real world, but some of you may not.

I would like to share some brief ruminations with you and I hope that you will be entertained. If not, you may fashion this paper into a boat or another origami shape of your choosing. I will not be offended.

If you are an undergraduate and you, for the most part, keep up with your studies you will sooner or later find yourself seated in a black, tent-like gown on a large field trying to make anagrams out of your fellow students' surnames as they flash on a large screen in front of you. E.g. Jasmine Fournier: junior fine smear. The gown, like a hospital gown, is not meant to flatter the curves. We are just glad it is not made out of paper. Like the sails of the Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria, this gown too will billow in the wind. It is true. Thankfully since the extra fabric affords extra space beneath, you can hide things inside so as to entertain yourself. Ex: Snacks, a small friend or child, a board game, the last shreds of your youth. You may choose what you wear underneath. Chances are nudity may be involved, also the Sudoku.

In short, you may find yourself head-to-toe in academic regalia and realize that whoops! You are about to graduate. It may go something like this (please note the date stamp: May 18, 2008).

Amy Gutmann: Congratulations Class of 2008!

Graduate: Oh shoot! That's me!

If this recently happened to you, let me tell you, I understand and sympathize. It certainly did creep up on us. Surprise! Who knew?

I have just completed the initial phases of my formal education, which is somewhat like a being on safari without the wild beasts and dangers of the bush. If differs in a few ways, but most notably the majority of the graduating class will not have the pleasure of mounting the head of said defeated beast on their mantle. They will, however, receive a piece of paper less decadent but easily frame-able: a diploma. It will cost roughly $160,000 and more or less four years spent in the prime of life give or take one year. There will be highs and lows, or to say, a roller coaster or wave-like pattern of emoting but, all in all, an enjoyable experience. Three things come out at the very end:

1. The bathrooms on the third floor of Van Pelt are nothing less than fantastic.

2. Carrying your belongings and books, like a pack-mule, is disheartening. Although it may seem like a grand idea, it is not possible to hire a Sherpa to carry them to the library.

3. Old people and children do exist, just not around campus.

So that is that. As this curtain rustles to the ground it will rise up again in a grand manner. Thanks for the memories. To end, one last haiku:

Fare thee well, good friends There's always graduate school Refrigerator.

Jasmine Fournier is a College senior and former 34th Street Editor-in-Chief.

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