Letter to the Class of 2028

Dear Class of 2028,

Welcome to Minerva.

Welcome home.

I remember my first week in San Francisco. It felt smelly, strange, even strangling, and nothing like home. To this day, I still play with the memory of meeting up with all the M27 Romanians and walking around Pier 39. Looking back now, I think I was unconsciously looking to find a piece of home in their company. Wandering around in one of the overpriced souvenir shops, I noticed a postcard that said:

‍“One day, if I go to heaven

I’ll look around and say,

‘It isn’t bad, but it isn’t

San Francisco’”

– Herb Caen

Heaven and San Francisco? San Francisco, back then, felt like everything but heaven.

I remember spotting the Golden Gate Bridge for the first time. Daydreaming while gazing at the Painted Ladies. The ticklish sensation of the chilly breeze at Ocean Beach. Experiencing all of these wonders but still not quite feeling at home. Even though I had been to the US before, it felt different this time. It felt like I had grown up and been thrown into the real world, and I somehow had to try to make something out of it. Now I see I had been ripped out of my comfort zone for a reason. I had to make myself at home and prepare for the next generation of Minervans to come. I decided to take on the challenge of creating my own comfort. Was it buying utensils, making food similar to what I was used to from home but not quite, or perhaps the outings spent with my roommates that slowly made me feel more comfortable? Was it just the passing of time, the submission of new assignments, the growing number of classes taken? Was it merely the relieving feeling that everyone, in some way, was struggling to feel at home? I do not know the answers to these questions right now. Perhaps one day, as I reflect on my Minerva journey, I will realize how I found comfort in discomfort and what I learned on the way.

Dear Class of 2028, please make yourself at home. It is going to feel like a lot, but you will grow beautifully on the way. So subtly you do not even notice. So gracefully that rather others will take notice of your progress. You will certainly meet the most inspiring bunch of people you have ever seen. You will be able to take advantage of professional events you have never dreamed of before. You can easily get lost in the grind, but please remember to stop and look around for wonders. The rosy sky that can be spotted from the Turk residence hall rarely shows itself, and you may miss fascinating conversations with people from all around the world for the sake of academic validation.

Having been on this journey for a couple of months, I learned a few things I would like to share with you. I learned that even though I strive to study hard, I still want to take my time wandering around Dolores Park eating fresh donuts. I learned that more people than I thought spend time comparing themselves with others and that is okay. I learned that it gets easier. It always does. I learned that you will not get along with everyone in your cohort, which is also okay. You will find the people you do get along with and it will feel magical. I learned that the most fascinating conversations about religion, the universe, and languages can happen on the residence hall floor at midnight after submitting an assignment together. I learned that unexpected trips, movie nights, and spontaneous decisions can turn out to be fantastic. I learned that, with sufficient effort, I am more than able to create my own custom heaven out of San Francisco. And lastly, if you put yourself out there, you can achieve real positive change in the Minerva community.

Dear Class of 2028, I can’t wait to see how you add to the Minerva magic. How you create your own heaven.

With every cohort, we become richer, more diverse, and perhaps more humane than ever. We are richer, more diverse, and more humane because of you. Go out and make some noise. And most importantly, make yourself at home.

‍

Warmly,

Ani

Class of 2027