what Harvard taught me, what it can teach you
Move Out is almost like a dirty word on campus. No one really likes to talk about moving/schlepping their queen-sized bed down 4 flights of stairs to storage. Few enjoy the awkward goodbye-acquaintance hugs? handshakes? (But thank god, no one asks, where are you going to be this summer? [That question was long hashed out two-three months ago, leading more people to know where you're going to be rather than where you are from.])
So what is Move Out actually like?
Yes sir, that is my lovely lovely moleskine. Yes ma’am, that is indeed a binder-clip pen holder.
The moleskine is effortlessly classy, slightly pretentious and absolutely necessary. It keeps me sane. It gets me to do things. It makes me almost feel like a math genius — almost. (I say that because I do in fact know of two math geniuses who carry around moleskines to sketch the mathematical equivalent of doodling.)
What is an Ivy League School to do when it dares not offer any majors that could be of immediate practical/professional use to anyone?
What Harvard does not have as “concentrations:” advertising, public relations, political science, business, marketing, graphic design, education, so on and so on.
What is an over-achiever to do?
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