The Slump

“You’re having the worst year of your life too? That’s awesome!”

I found these words leaving my mouth during yet another conversation about second-year life at Harvard. And over the past year, I’ve had more than a few of these humdrum chats, and I’ve seen enough going on with my fellow second-years that I can state confidently: The Sophomore Slump is real and, trust me, those of you feeling it are not alone. But take heart—a cure is closer than you think.

Something changes dramatically in the second year of college. Easy introductory lectures turn into intense tutorials where reading is actually required. Teams and clubs no longer welcome you as a newcomer at a friendly comp meeting; instead, they work to push you as far as possible from upperclass leadership positions. Failed internship applications—last year remedied by a summer job at the pool—now become serious impediments to all future career advances. Sleep appears as often as a sunny Cambridge day; roommates actually make you wish you were still living with your parents; weekly love life extends no further than a Wednesday viewing of “The O.C.”; and the dining hall food (which, by the way, was supposed to get better in the Houses) leads to one grilled cheese sandwich after another. Maybe all this was here last year and we just didn’t notice it, but I doubt it. It’s the unmistakable mark of The Slump.

Of course, there are plenty of sophomores who seem happy (although, as any Slumper will tell you, anyone who seems to enjoy themselves must certainly be crumbling beneath their façade, or be completely naïve in their irrational bliss). I don’t intend to make light of those who suffer serious depression or personal problems. But for many sophomores, in a very real way, The Slump has got them.

While there’s no foolproof cure for The Slump, there are some promising home remedies. Beer is one treatment. And drinking with other people is even better. Dialogue with other sophomores about shared frustrations often produces a striking common ground. Results are best with a group discussion, kind of like a Sophomore Slump section. A typical session contains several sentences by each sophomore beginning with the phrase “I hate…” and ending with a chorus of the rest: “Me too!”

It is in the course of these conversations that I’ve come to realize that it is those around us, with whom we share these experiences, who really make our life worthwhile. It is the “who,” not the “what,” that matters in our Harvard existence. Sometimes it’s easy to find someone to talk with us; more often, it’s not. For those harder times, fellow Slumpers, look out for each other—together we just might pull ourselves out of this depressing state of doldrums. Until then, if anyone needs a “Me too!” I’ll be around here somewhere. Just follow the grumbling.

Chris J. Catizone ’06, a Crimson editorial comper, is a government concentrator in Dunster House.