The end of my first year in college has arrived amidst so much craziness that I haven’t even had time to realize that in just three days I will be returning home. The last few nights have been work-intensive. I usually head to the library after dinner and stay there until the early hours of the morning, finishing written assignments and going over my notes for the final exams. It’s amazing seeing so many people powering through the night in the library rooms, as if this routine were completely natural. The library café serves lattes and croissants until very late, and many of us gather there for mini breaks and mutual encouragement.

However, it probably would have been wiser not to invert my sleeping schedule so drastically. After all, I will be taking my finals in the morning, and I will need to have adjusted myself to be the most energized and efficient at that time. I guess I’m going to have to stop drinking so much coffee. I’ve associated its taste with study time, and now I can’t have one without the other.
At Harvard, finals consist of exams or papers, depending on the course. For Macroeconomics, I again will have to sit through three hours of stress answering multiple-choice questions and short essay prompts. I already have reread all the chapters and articles with material that this exam will test.
The day before, I’ll be completing the take-home exam for my literature course on Jorge Luis Borges and Julio Cortázar. My professor has asked us to sign a document expressing our compliance with the academic honor code. This basically states that the students will not consult any class material or classmate for reference while taking the test. When I first arrived in college, this proof of trust really affected me, since I never was exposed to it in high school. It really forces students to reflect on the maturity and discipline that are expected from them.
There are no final exams for my Speech-Making or Expository Writing classes. For the first I instead had to deliver an original speech before a large audience. It was an amazing experience, despite the nervousness I had. Now I’m much more comfortable addressing large crowds and distinguishing the right volume, pace, and tone to convey my messages more effectively. In many of the interviews and presentations I had this year, I really appreciated having strengthened this skill. For Expos, I had to submit today a 10-page research paper on the topic of women, politics, and authority. Although the assignments were very challenging, this probably was my favorite class. I’d never taken a course that focused solely on writing, and I was even skeptical about whether writing could be taught effectively without a literature analysis component, as is often the case in English classes. But not only did my writing improve tremendously, even my voice and style became more academic. I remember that in high school the prompts on tests awakened much more floweriness and metaphorical writing in me, allowing me to focus on the creative and not the expository aspect of my work. Academic papers, however, are entirely different, and the process of selecting and citing sources effectively requires much practice.
As I share my current end-of-the-year experiences, I remember that around this same time a year ago, I was a completely different person. The Maria I was in high school was much more fast-paced, always feeling stressed, and worrying about the least detail. I had not even graduated and I already was picking the courses for the fall in college, and thinking that living away from Cuban food and a warm climate would be unbearable.
It is incredible how much change I have undergone. I still am driven, and always busy, and definitely fast-paced, especially when I speak, as my friends would tell you. But during this year, far away from my parents, adjusting to independence, I have realized that most of the time the worries and stress are not worth it. This year I finally came to understand what being a “scholar” means. It has nothing to do with anxiety. In high school, I never had time to read a good book, to exercise, to hang out on the weekends with friends and enjoy their conversation. I deprived myself of much entertainment, thinking that it would obstruct my academic goals, but now I realize that the true scholar, the true Renaissance woman, values much more than pure academics.
It is not even about extracurriculars, community service, and the typical recipes for high-school success. I am talking about picking up a good book, doing gardening, researching on the most bizarre topics just to satisfy curiosity, reading the daily newspaper, and exercising a bit. I am talking about sleeping at least eight hours a night, and maintaining a healthy diet, and watching a good movie on Friday night with parents instead of going out to a club or staying awake all night reading for an American History quiz.
I’m certainly not pretending to write my own “How to…” list, or to play the part of the experienced college girl, but I just wish that someone in high school had spoken to me frankly and opened my eyes to all that I was missing, limiting my learning to what class curricula demanded.
Next year I will return much more prepared to face the challenges of sophomore year. Working in New York all summer, I expect to make new friendships and acquire a new professional perspective, both of which will be valuable assets. Not being home for the summer will be very sad, and this is why many of my freshman friends have decided to go back to their hometowns and study or work there. But I had to take advantage of the job opportunity, and my parents support me.
The only thing separating me from summer now is finals. On Saturday, after finishing Econ at last, four big FedEx boxes will be awaiting in my room, ready for winter coats, books, and school supplies for storage. When I move into the upper-class houses next year, I will miss my little room with its high skylight and view. After all, it was the first room that I was able to maintain surprisingly organized without my mom’s help. It was also the witness to a few sleepless nights, and my refuge in the cold days of winter. I guess that my attachment to it just shows that Harvard really has become a second home.