A Separate Year

There is a world out there, beyond the ivy-covered professors in ivy-covered halls. A world many college students instinctively fear. A world which we have practically no exposure to before being thrust headfirst into it after graduation. Even those who dodge its grasp by retreating into the haven of grad school cannot elude it forever. I discovered this world last year by forcibly inserting myself into it. Yes, I am one of those who voluntarily burst my Harvard bubble and sought what lay beyond: the real world.

The Harvard College admissions website currently boasts that, “60 percent of Harvard students integrate international experience into their undergraduate careers.” While this is more than Yale, it is only about the same percentage as Dartmouth and other schools. Indeed, Harvard has only recently begun actively encouraging students to step outside Johnston gate and generally only encourages time off before one’s freshman year. Luckily, the Office of International Programs has been expanding its resources (the $100 million gift from David Rockefeller ’36 has been a great help), and now even has a special link on its website with resources for those interested in gap years. This expansion reflects a huge shift in dogma from years past, when the prevailing view of study abroad was, “You’re at Harvard. Why would you want to be anywhere else?”

I wanted to be somewhere else to see if I could survive somewhere else; to gain some perspective on Harvard and life. Being immersed in an institution full of incredible people, you can easily forget that you are also a smart, capable person who probably has a bright future ahead of them.

I had lost this perspective. I needed to regain it. Yes, I would be behind my class and would graduate a year late. Yes, I would miss all my activities and friends. But after experiencing repeated depressive episodes and existential crises, I decided it was useless to wonder what I was doing with my life. I needed to decide what I was doing with my life.

When the plane touched down at Malpensa airport outside Milan, I froze in my seat. I was spending a year here? In a country where I barely spoke the language and didn’t know anyone? And not even getting credit for it? What did I think I was doing?

The answers to these questions soon became clear. I was there, in the cheesiest but truest of terms, to find myself. I had adventures that one can’t replicate and met people that I never would have on this side of Massachusetts Ave. I saw Europe rejoice more fervently than America at the election of President Obama. I learned a new language more efficiently than any intensive course could have taught me. I learned to cook. I ate too much gelato. In the end, one year was just not enough.

Milan was my fairy godmother. She taught me independence, resourcefulness, and how to not feel inferior to the person in my section who won Jeopardy at age 15, is a concertizing pianist, and speaks seven languages. So, countless irreplaceable and life-changing experiences later, I decided that I was ready to be a college student again.

Taking time off is something Harvard does not easily let you do. Given the Sisyphean stress-cycle on which this college keeps us pedaling, it’s hard to do anything but focus but on the next midterm and to try not to get sick. Even once you make the difficult decision to leave, jumping through all the relevant bureaucratic hoops is an Olympic feat. I was still getting emails deep into October from various offices telling me that I still owed some amount on my term bill.

And taking time off is not for everyone. There is a definite stigma associated with gap years in the middle of college. People look at you thinking “Was there something wrong with her?” or “Couldn’t handle the pressure, huh?” Then when you clarify the reasons for your decision, you immediately become “gutsy” and “impressive” and they are “so jealous of such a wonderful opportunity.” Potential employers will look at you differently as well. This is not a bad thing—you may also look differently at potential employers.

Even if you don’t want to be out of step with your class, there is no Foreign Cultures class at Harvard that can match living in an actual foreign culture. It’s okay to go outside the Harvard bubble. My time away from Harvard gave me an invaluable perspective on how Harvard, the world, and my life fit together. It changed me as a person and left me better able to face the real world when it comes. It could do the same for you.

Maya E. Shwayder ’10-’11, a Crimson editorial writer, is a psychology concentrator in Pforzheimer House.