By now all Hopkins students have returned from break. Most would probably agree that break was a relief: TV all day, friends from high school, free food in the kitchen you can take whenever, no deadlines. It's great ... for a while.
Our breaks during the winter tend to be very long, and believe you me, I'm the last guy you'll find complaining about that. But then one must consider our mental state during winter break's hedonistic ordeal of nothingness: It's an unbearably frustrating experience.
In school, the savvy International Studies major writes about nuclear terrorism and the Middle East. The econ major makes sense of what the future holds after the sub-prime meltdown. The pre-med is probably shadowing physicians at the hospital, looking at weird and bizarre things.
All that intellectual activity stops when we return home. Those feelings of excitement and academic curiosity, although can be stressful, are replaced by those enchanting words we haven't heard since we left for school, "Sweetie, can you help me with the groceries?"
Or better yet, you sit down at the dinner table and the banal conversation arises, "So, how's school?" This is magnified by family friends coming over who know nothing about you, really, so the questions start flying. What's your major? What do you want to do? Where are you living? How do you like it? (I hate that question.) Someone asks you the inevitable questions. So, how's school? Then you start in about your travels abroad, the cancer you saw removed, the book you helped to co-author, the political campaign you're involved in, the readings you have done. Your parents' eyes go wide, and you think to yourself, "Ah! A response, an interesting comment is coming!" But no, "Wow ... (pause) ... so, we just got a new refrigerator!"
There you have it. This is what is termed the New Refrigerator Syndrome. You now get the updates on everything from the dog's bowel movements to your third cousin's orthodontist appointment. You are back to domestic life. This life does not include foreign languages or engineering, but mortgages and routines. This life is essential, and if done correctly, bliss, but for a 21-year-old who wants nothing more than make a meager contribution based on his experience, it can be hell.
So, here comes February and with it a bittersweet return back to school.
