Before coming to Yale, I thought of myself as a city-adjacent suburban girl. Sure, my hometown of Fresno, California, is best known for its agriculture, and driving 40 minutes out of any populated neighborhood lands you in empty brown fields, but I didn’t think it was that rural. After all, we had two Nordstrom Racks and a few bougie cafes selling $10 matcha. When the middle-tier malls and outdoor festivals got monotonous, I could always drive three hours in either direction and end up in San Francisco or Los Angeles.

New Haven is considered a micro-city by many East Coasters. To me, it’s proper urban living. Being able to walk two minutes from my room to G-Heav to buy overpriced grapes? Having cappuccinos ready to go downstairs in Pierson’s dining hall? Living within 15 minutes of all my friends? This might as well be Manhattan.

But more than walkability or convenience, the most jarring adjustment to urban life is the way people treat their time. I’m used to savoring time. I believe in extended morning routines, in saying your daily prayers and fixing your hair and eating a real breakfast. To discover that my fellow Yalies will jump out of bed to an alarm that sounds like a demolition warning, chug coffee on an empty stomach and run to their first morning class is a revelation.

A New Yorker on my floor said she considers a 10-minute shower “leisurely.” A 10-minute shower means I’m in a rush. When I sit to read at home, I like having a cup of tea at my side. A Yale workload means there’s no point in grabbing the tea because I’ll be done skimming my 40-page reading by the time two sips go by, and then it’s off to do whatever’s next on the GCal.

In some ways, this atmosphere is motivating. When I’m around people who are constantly hustling, I feel compelled to hustle too. But while I’ve never been surrounded by more ambitious people, I’ve also never seen anyone more exhausted. Here we are on the most beautiful campus in the world, surrounded by some of the most interesting people our age, and we can barely look up for five minutes to take it all in.

I must admit that Yale has changed me in some ways. I’ve pulled out my GCal to schedule a meal. I’ve fallen asleep with my contacts in more than once. I’ve listened to my assigned readings on Spotify because I couldn’t find time to sit down and open the book.

But despite how hectic my day might be, I refuse to let go of my slow mornings. I always wake up at least an hour and a half before I have to leave for my first class. Some students may find that extra 90 minutes of shut-eye essential, but what’s more critical for my own peace of mind is being able to breathe before the chaos sets in. I do my skincare routine. I listen to some music. If I’m feeling responsible, I take my vitamins. For a stretch of time, I’m a human being, not a Yalie.

I could choose to put off this humanness for post-grad life, as many of us resolve to do. Once we’re all grown up and don’t have to juggle intense courseloads with pre-professional extracurriculars, then we’ll finally be able to savor our time, right? But many of us were once high-powered high school students who told ourselves college would be a breather. And in 20 years’ time, we may find that full-time jobs and family obligations have us running from place to place just as much as we do now. 

Maybe the people in Fresno have it figured out. After all, if we do not choose the present moment to reclaim our time, and by extension our humanity, will we ever?