Dear Mount Holyoke,
I fear not enough people have a favorite window here on campus. If, when asked about you, we so ardently articulate that we find ourselves in a “pretty place,” why are we so unaware of the frames that encompass your beauty?
I know we all spend time gazing out windows — when homesick and thinking of the loved ones we left behind, when pulling an all-nighter and praying for strength, and especially when lonely and dreaming of anything other than the present despair of our existence. (We Mount Holyoke students embrace angst!)
In my final semester at Mount Holyoke (I’m graduating in December), I’m hit with waves of nostalgia as I see the places and people that have become important parts of my journey — that from a naive, timid first-year student to a pretty bold senior. But if you had asked 17-year-old me if I would get to this point of nostalgia, or even get through these four years, I’m pretty sure I would have scoffed. Loudly. That’s how unfathomable the idea once seemed.
I could fill 16 tabloid-size pages with all my thoughts about the Mount Holyoke News, and I could probably do it on a tight deadline. But who would read that?
What I will say is this: Joining the student newspaper was the best decision of my college career. Nowhere on campus feels more like home than Blanchard 324, the paper’s newsroom since 1988.
On May 7, 2018, at 7:55 pm, the sun set over the Connecticut River in Northampton, Massachusetts. For the past four years, my friend Sally Ma ’18 and I have been meaning to go to the Norwottuck Rail Trail bridge, and it was only until now that we made the trip over.
The sun’s rays hit the new foliage and the metal beams of the wooden bridge, casting shadows along the walkway. Sally asked why we hadn’t come here previously — it was only a 30-minute bus ride away — but I shrugged and said that we’d never made time for it.
What does a learning landscape that extends for nearly two centuries look like? What does it feel like? What does it promise? What does it invite? Watch the video.