May 2014 Page 2
The Honors Herald
Farewell Dear Pace continued: Herald Staff Marianelli Agbulos Editor-In-Chief Leopoldo Orozco Associate Editor Sharmin Rahman Associate Editor Alvi Rashid Associate Editor Jessica Sutton Associate Editor Dr. Ida Dupont Director Dr. Bill Offutt Faculty Advisor Jaclyn Kopel Program Coordinator
Herald Contributors Briana Brown
April Benshosan Melissa Bowley Lindita Capric Sierra Chandler Dr. Ida Dupont Juan Castiblanco Garrison Hall Nancy Hoang Valerie Cayo Jackie Ignatowitz Jaclyn Kopel Sierra Chandler Dr. Bill Offutt Leopoldo Orozco Lili Feinberg Andrea Ragadio Jamie Saunders Darby Fulcher Erkinaz Shuminov Jessica Sutton Matthew Galletta Amandine Tristani Rachel Wandishin Victoria Gonzalez Catherine Weening Dr. Emily Welty
Desirae Hallstrom Kyla Korvne Maggie Metnick James Park Carolyn Phillips Jamie Saunders Anthony Del Signore Amandine Tristani Rachel Wandishin Catherine Weening
The Honors Herald is a student run newsletter circulated to the students of the Pforzheimer Honors College at Pace University on the New York City Campus. The members of the Herald Staff review all articles. The opinions of the articles do not necessarily reflect those of the staff or the Pforzheimer Honors College. Pforzheimer Honors College 1 Pace Plaza W208/W209 New York, NY 10038 www.pace.edu/honors-college
some amazing teachers over the years that have inspired and awed me, people I am proud to call mentors and friends. But before your ego gets too big, dearest Pace, I must remind you that it hasn’t all been perfect. I felt alone a lot. I had my moments of insecurity, depression, and apathy. I’ve had a few awful roommates and terrible teachers. And for the love of God, fix the heaters in Fulton! No, actually fix them. No student at a private school should have to sleep in wool socks and a sweater in the middle of December. I mean, I am less afraid of monsters grabbing at my feet because socks repel under-the-bed monsters, but it doesn’t feel great. Who am I kidding? I’ve had a blast. For every bad roommate I’ve had two awesome ones. I can count the bad teachers on one hand but not have nearly enough appendages for the good ones. My last four years have been full of learning experiences inside and outside the lecture hall. From the classroom, to the dorm rooms, to the streets of New York I have been growing because of you. At Pace I learned American Sign Language. I had my first (and only) fling. I marched across the Brooklyn Bridge for Marriage Equality. I paid rent. I’ve taken friends to the emergency room and sat with them while they hurt. I voted for the first time. I interned at badass companies. I both loved and hated Occupy Wall Street. I fell in love with a wonderful man. I have owned rats, a cat, and a puppy. I was evacuated during Hurricane Sandy. I cried a lot. I laughed a lot. I was pissed off at slow-walking tourists on a daily basis. I both broke rules and defended them. I amazed and disappointed myself in equal measure. Do you know what happened as I experienced all those things? I grew into an actual person. My opinions have transformed from something I inherited from my parents to values that I have cultivated and hold with pride. I have worked in the professional world, and not just any professional world but the one I want to join. Here I am, days from graduation and I am lucky to have a job waiting for me. I have a committed boyfriend who is planning to take me to Disney World for our third year anniversary (because we can’t be too grown up yet). My parents are proud of me. Most importantly, I cut my hair. For my whole life people knew me by my hair. My hair was the first thing people noticed about me and was my defining characteristic. I could hide behind it better than any pair of glasses or frumpy sweaters. It was my identity. If you need a visual image imagine Merida from Brave. But by the time I reached my junior year I had grown confident in myself. I knew I had worth and a personality that could shine for me. So I chopped it off to my chin and never looked back. My hair is distinctive, but it is not me.
In other words, I am ready to begin this next stage of my life. So, my dear Pace, here we stand at a fork in the road. You will continue on as I take this new road to that next step towards adulthood. Ahead of me, I have a job at BBC America and the first summer in 17 years where I won’t have school to look forward to. Some days I will hate the memory of you and other days I will cry to return. My diploma will hang on my wall and, honestly, most days I will forget it is there because I will have bills to pay, dogs to walk, and friends to drink with, but every once in a while I will look at it closely. Scrutinize it. Notice the look of ink stamped onto the expensive paper as though it is art. I will remember being sunburned and alone on the crowded Spruce Street sidewalk with my two bags and no clue where to go. I will remember the joy and the disgust and every other emotion I’ve ever experienced. And then I will look away and continue on with the life that you have helped lead me to and I will be happy that, for a time, our paths had crossed. Pace, what I am trying to say is thank you. Thank you for the new experiences and friendships. Thank you for teaching me that decisions are sacred and my life is mine to govern. Because of you that sunburned girl is now a moderately freckled woman, with commitments, dreams, and a future to see unfolded. I can’t ask for more than that. So I hope you enjoy the rest of your journey towards greatness. Because of you, I’m already there.
Affectionately yours, Sierra Chandler Class of 2014