Farewell Column by Emerson Brooking | My final paean to Penn

Farewell columns are invariably self-important and unavoidably pretentious. I’ve been looking forward to writing one for a very long time.

There is no uniform “Penn experience.” We all file in at Convocation and out at Commencement. But otherwise, our journeys are unique to each of us. They are defined by a handful of moments that will remain lucid five or 40 years from now. And they’re moments that could only happen here.

My real introduction to campus occurred halfway through New Student Orientation, when a late night conversation inexplicably turned into an argument over which American president had been most badass. For a couple of drunk kids at 2 a.m., it was a hilariously cerebral exchange. And it also showed, beyond all doubt, that I’d found a place at Penn.

Some moments have alternately taught and inspired. I’ll forever remember the first time I met my Little through Big Brothers Big Sisters, and the first time he asked me to visit more often. I’ll never forget how many people worked to put me on the Undergraduate Assembly, or how awesome it felt to win an election. And of course, I’ll always treasure the praise and controversy I managed to stoke with my four semesters of “Southern Comfort.”

Then there’s the personal stuff. In my time here, I’ve encountered a wider array of people than I’d imagined existed a few years ago. I’ve grabbed dinner with New York socialites and smoked cigars with Middle Eastern nobility. I’ve met folks from the worst parts of America and the craziest parts of overseas. I’ve done the usual college things in a very unusual setting, and forged the kinds of friendships that will last for the rest of my life. Coming from my tiny rural community, I couldn’t have asked for a more fulfilling adventure.

But our University is far from perfect. Just as I’ve experienced so many positive moments on this campus, I’ve also confronted other, altogether harsher lessons about the Ivy League and the entitlement it carries.

At Penn, I’ve discovered the special kind of pettiness that comes only with massive privilege. It’s an attitude marked by derision toward Penn employees and West Philadelphia, as well as apathy toward the population at large. While this self-anointed group has plenty in money, its members have little in heart and brains. It’s been interesting to meet them, but I’m glad to not number among them.

For this reason and others, although I’m happy for the time I’ve spent at this University, I’m not unhappy to leave it. Only so many years can be spent dodging flyers on Locust Walk and dozing in Rosengarten. There may still be unexplored areas and untapped connections, but that will be true of every stage of life. I’ve been here a long time — I don’t need to stick around much longer.

The truth is that Penn is a fairy tale. For most people, reality does not consist of a neatly delineated cycle of classes and parties. The learning is more practical; the drinking is more depressing. In the process, however, it holds open the kind of rewards that undergraduate life never will. Our college years remain the first act of an event wholly more complex and compelling. The real world may be scary, but it’s not as scary as many of us think.

These thoughts were buzzing through my head a few weeks ago as I struggled to finish the last dozen pages of my thesis. I was on my fourth coffee and had a fifth waiting for me on a nearby heat vent. Taking a break, I looked up to watch the sun rise slowly over Center City. And at that instant, despite aching fatigue, I realized I wouldn’t trade these moments at Penn for anything.

Yet it’s time to move on. And — after the best four years of my life — I’m ready to do exactly that.

Emerson Brooking is a College senior from Turnerville, Ga. He plans to retire after graduation.

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