Courtesy of Grace Jin

Dear First-Year Grace,

I once read an essay, or perhaps it was a tumblr post: “I don’t dress up for me, or men, or friends, but for the 13-year old girl who passes me on the street. I hope she thinks I’m cool.” 

I think of this post often. I wonder, how would you — bright-eyed, 17-year old me — would think of 21-year old me if you passed by? Would you recognize me? Would you think I’m cool?

I definitely look a bit older. A bit heavier too — thanks Yale Dining. I think I dress a bit differently — better, I hope. I think I am recognizable. 

You carry yourself around New Haven with the frenetic energy of a baby deer, searching for your footing — sorry to break it to you. Maybe take off the lanyard (you lose your key this year, anyway), and you don’t have to eat every dinner in Pierson. You don’t have to Instagram Story every guest speaker. Don’t take Math 120. If I passed you, I would know instantly you’re a first year. Would you know that I am graduating? 

You walk, no, you skip around campus. You tackle Yale like the world is your oyster and you just found a pearl. Your FroCo — oh yeah, you will become a FroCo yourself — tells you that although Yale is not all sunshine and rainbows, it is a magical castle where dreams come true. He is right, believe him. I won’t spoil it, but you can’t even imagine what lies ahead.

In high school, your identity is intrinsic — yeah, you also use words like intrinsic now — to what you do; what you do is who you are. Pretty soon, you’ll be thrown into a space where everything is bigger and better, and you will no longer be doing what was once intrinsic to you. You’ll stop doing debate. You’ll never take another Physics class. But you struggle to find your new self. You’ll feel disoriented and not-special, and it takes the pep out of your step for a little bit. But being lost, both on your way to classes — Google Maps works, trust it — and in the world — wish Google Maps could help with this one — forces you to find new things that excite you. It guides you to the new you.

You’ll find those things! When you go to the extracurricular fair and are drawn to that booth with the matching t-shirts that look really comfy, follow your instinct. You’ll work there someday, and the t-shirts are even comfier than they look. A professor you admired takes you under her wing. You solo-travel a foreign country where you can’t speak the language and you take classes from people you read about in history books. Eventually, this whirlwind of a place sets you stumbling down the path to finding yourself, and you get that pep back. 

I wish that I, passing you on the street, could tell you that I have it figured out. Four years down the road you still don’t know everything, and honestly, you don’t even know that much. You’re not very cool, but you’re so much cooler — you may not have your path mapped out, but you found a compass. You know how to follow it to the next step, and the next, and you have thoughts and ambitions and dreams that feel a little less cloudy and confusing. 

I think, if you pass me now, you’ll think I’m pretty cool. And that’s enough for me.

Love,

Grace 

Courtesy of Grace Jin

GRACE JIN