I will miss spring at Georgetown. I won’t miss the afternoon drunks or the “bros” sitting on couches outside and playing Frisbee on Healy Beach, but I’ll miss the carefree leisure of napping on the grass under the sun. I might miss being a student. I’ll certainly miss not being an adult.

I’ve spent much of my life at Georgetown wishing I were in a better mood. The spring often lifts my spirits, but this time around it’s somewhat disheartening. I look around and realize that I’ll never live like this again. I often resent the frivolity of it all, but I do appreciate the retreat.

I’m eager to leave, or anxious to leave – or maybe both. This is it for me, and for the class of 2009. We’re drawing closer to what we’ve all worked and waited for: a chance to be taken seriously. Is it glorious? I can’t really say. But it’s all much more daunting when you read between the lines, and I’m just now scanning the fine print.

Launching oneself into adulthood is an exercise in sobriety. Speeches fall silent, editorials fade, the parliamentary procedure unravels and we’re left with a simple task – to do right and do well and do good. But we’ve got to pay the rent while we’re at it, and inevitable burdens will invariably frustrate our ambitions.

What about the job market? What about this economy? Aren’t we all better off in law school? If you’re an aspiring lawyer, I suppose so, but if you aspire otherwise you may as well start toiling now. Maybe you won’t find a great job, but you’ll never know until you earn at least a few rejection letters. (I’ve been earning quite a few as of late.) I personally cannot afford to take on any more student debt, and I imagine that many others face the same predicament.

Here’s a thought: We will survive. Whatever you choose to do, do it knowing that you will survive. That slight suspicion of imminent death is only anxiety. If you manage to descend into real poverty with a bachelor’s degree from Georgetown, I’d be impressed. But discomfort and a few disappointments never killed anyone in America.

Besides, I think we’ve all been educated enough at this point. Like any youth, I know too much. I know where Borodino is and why Orwell wrote and when Plato died. What else is there? Rather, what else do I need to know that I won’t learn along the way?

Law school was tempting until I realized that I’d have to pay for it. It became even less tempting when I realized that I’d have to sit in classrooms for three more years, parsing thoughts. We’ve spent four years in retreat already – for better or worse, it’s time to leave. The world at present terrifies me, but contract law is just so boring.

The world you wanted to save when you wrote that first admissions essay is in more disrepair than ever. Depressing, isn’t it? It’s frightening, but it was always going to be frightening. 2009 is no different – it just comes with a few more rejection letters, is all.

Let’s be terrified tomorrow; in the meantime, pour me a drink. By June we’ll all be sitting at our desks, in our cubicles, at the office. But today, we’ll lie barefoot on the lawn and soak in the supreme dawn. Contrary to popular pronouncements, we’ve got plenty of time to save the world. I, for one, am off to an uneasy start, but I maintain my own vague confidence that we will do great things.

Justin Charity is a senior in the College.

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