Summer officially starts in two weeks, but it appeared in full swing last month — at the height of Short Term — when students moved around the Historic Quad on bikes and skates, others busting out dance moves.

While a celebration exploded at the steps of Coram Library with a toast and a hug to honor a thesis binding, students elsewhere lounged in the grass, against trees, in Adirondack chairs, one read in a hammock. Many worked away on laptops. Others were ready for some veg time.

As a small crowd enjoyed an impromptu dance rehearsal performed by two students it was clear: It’s Short Term at �ֲ���ý.

On the Quad

Text of the 2017 Convocation Welcome by �ֲ���ý College Student Government President Walter Washington ’19 delivered on Sept. 5:

Good morning, and welcome to the 2017—2018 academic year. Greetings to all faculty, staff, returning students, and, most importantly, to the Class of 2021! Congratulations, you are all officially Bobcats!

It was not too long ago, two years specifically, that I sat in the very seats you all are sitting in right now. I remember it was a pretty hot day ,and as I sat there in the heat, listening to all the speakers tell us how life-changing these next four years would be, I somehow could not keep my mind off how much I missed my mom and her home cooking. What was also running through my mind was, how in the world was I supposed to navigate these next four years: manage to get straight A’s, make friends, play football, sleep, and find time to get involved, all while trying to make my law school application more compelling than the next? I’ll be honest, I had no idea how, but what became apparent to me was that not knowing was okay, and that it would take time to adjust.

How in the world was I supposed to navigate these next four years: manage to get straight A’s, make friends, play football, sleep, and find time to get involved, all while trying to make my law school application more compelling than the next?

What I can spend time speaking to you about today is how my academic life somehow intertwined with my social life here at �ֲ���ý; how my First-Year Seminar, “Searching for the Good Life,” with Professor Michael Sargent, changed my overall outlook on life’s journey; and how Constitutional Law with my adviser, Professor Stephen Engel, reinforced my desire to continue a career immersing myself in law and politics. But what I want to talk to you about today places �ֲ���ý somewhat in the background.

Let’s go back to the summer of 2014, when I was a rising senior in high school. I was ecstatic not only because I was on my way to becoming a senior, but also because I was transferring to a beautiful boarding school in Readfield, Maine. I spent the summer training, getting ready for football season, when my family’s life took an unexpected turn. I found out that my mother was diagnosed with cancer.

I have five siblings. I am the youngest, and with such a close-knit family, you could imagine the heartbreak that this brought upon us. I watched my mother, my entire life, give so much of herself to ensure that everyone else was taken care of. And to be completely honest, I was angry that, out of all people, this had to happen to my mother, someone so genuine and kind. I immediately told my parents that I wasn’t going to transfer, and they told me in no uncertain terms that I was given an opportunity and that I was going to take it.

Walter Washington ’19 of Fleetwood, N.Y., president of the �ֲ���ý College Student Government, gives the welcome address to the Class of 2021 during Convocation. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ���ý College)

I went through my senior year trying to focus on school as much as I possibly could, but everything in me just wanted to be back home with my mom. With cancer, there comes chemotherapy, radiation, hospital stays, doctor visits, and all of that costs a pretty penny, and meanwhile, I have a $52,000 boarding school education to worry about.

There were times when I got called into the business office, and they told me if my parents couldn’t keep up with the payments, that I would be kicked out of school, and for a senior applying to colleges, you could imagine how difficult that would be. Back home, my mother’s health was deteriorating, and the one thing I wanted was for her to see me graduate. She did and was able to watch me go through my freshman year of college.

Fast forward to sophomore year, and her good days were off and on. Luckily, she was able to string together a few good days during the fall to come up during Parents Weekend. In that weekend, she watched her son sing a solo in his newly-joined a cappella group and the next day watch him register his first college sack against Williams. That was a pretty awesome weekend.

The winter came, and it was pretty tough, as she was again great for a few days and then back in the hospital days later. We spent Christmas in the hospital as she had another surgery. The new year arrives, and I hear a lot from my parents in the month of January, telling me that things are looking great after my mom’s second surgery, and she’s stringing together consistent good days.

To make a very long story short, February comes along, and on a random Wednesday, I get a call from my mother asking me if I was sitting down. She tells me that she had a visit to her doctor, they ran all of these tests, and they couldn’t find any more cancer in her body.

There is no way, absolutely no way, that I could have persevered through such an ordeal without being a part of the community that is �ֲ���ý.

An amazing miracle, but I’m sure you are truly wondering, how does �ֲ���ý fit into that story? I’ll tell you. There is no way, absolutely no way, that I could have persevered through such an ordeal without being a part of the community that is �ֲ���ý.

My coaches became more than just coaches, but a supportive resource for me outside of my academics, Jessica Perez, my student support advisor, was always willing to talk and made herself available for whatever I needed, and I couldn’t forget my two best friends, Nolan Burgos and Brandon Galloway, who quickly became my brothers, always around — not only for conversation and a good laugh, but they constantly challenged me to be the best possible person and not let such a situation define my time here. �ֲ���ý is more than just a college. It’s an accepting, strong, encouraging community and filled with people that you will someday call your family.

On a larger scale, the true moral of that story is that in the midst of all of the success, joy, and accomplishments you will have here at �ֲ���ý, I guarantee you that there will also be times where you feel like you cannot keep going. When that problem set becomes too difficult to complete, when each of your professors are all assigning homework as if theirs  is the only class you have, or when it’s finals week and your nights sleeping in Pettingill Hall are still not long enough to help you retain all the material for that terrifying cumulative exam. But take a moment, and look at the people to your left and to your right. This place, the people sitting right next to you, the relationships, friendships and extended family you will make during your next four years here — it is that that makes this place so special.

�ֲ���ý is more than just a college, it’s an accepting, strong, encouraging community and filled with people that you will someday call your family.

My freshman year, I knew this kid who was a shell of himself; he was quiet, he joined no clubs, didn’t go to Gala, and he was terrified to walk into the jungle that is Commons. I say that for all of you to understand that where you are right now, captivated by those feelings of excitement, anxiousness, and probably a pinch of fear, are all perfectly okay. More importantly, I guarantee you that those feelings will someday fade, because that same terrified, uninvolved, quiet freshman, joined an a capella group, got involved within a few committees, became student body president, and now has the fortuitous opportunity to begin his junior year, speaking to all of you.

It was Mark Twain who said, “Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do rather than the things you did do.” So, as you go through this four-year journey, I challenge you all to explore, travel, take that class, dance with your Commons crush at Gala, and do the very thing that even your wildest of dreams cannot have you do, because this is the place for it.

Walter Washington ’19 of Fleetwood, N.Y., president of the �ֲ���ý College Student Government, talks with President Clayton Spencer before processing on the Historic Quad for Convocation 2017 (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ���ý College)

As you experience all of the great things that this place has to offer, I leave you will three final tips. One: call the people you love. They are worried about you and are expecting a call. Two: do your laundry on Mondays. Everyone does it during the weekend. You will have to wait forever for a dryer. And lastly, make sure you actually go to class. There is often no more than 30 students in each, so trust me, your professors will know when you aren’t there.

Your next four years here are not just the clichéd learning experience, opportunity, or a time for you to carry out the liberal arts mission. Your next four years here are the definition of a truly unique journey. As you go through this journey, allow �ֲ���ý to help you define yourself, and take the time to not only use �ֲ���ý to catapult you into your future, but as a fundamental cornerstone of your right now. Explore, dream, go out change the world, because this is the place for it. Once again, welcome to �ֲ���ý, and we are so proud to welcome you into your new family. Thank you.

As winter becomes spring, and as snowbanks melt, grass grows, and flowers bloom, �ֲ���ý buildings  are our constant companions.

Here’s an interactive look comparing the look of 10 �ֲ���ý places in the depths of winter and again this week. (The images may take a moment to load.)

Ladd Library

The unmistakable lines of Ladd Library, opened in 1973, are said to evoke the steeply pitched roof of a New England saltbox.

Hedge Hall

Hedge Hall has seen more 500 winters, springs, summers, and falls since it was constructed in 1890. It’s now an academic building for environmental studies, religious studies, and philosophy, plus classroom space.

Roger Williams Hall

Dedicated in 1895, Roger Williams Hall initially housed the Cobb Divinity School. Later a longtime residence hall, “the Bill” was renovated in 2010 for the college’s language programs and Off-Campus Study Office.

Hathorn Hall

Placed on the National Register of Historic Sites in 1970, Hathorn Hall is �ֲ���ý’ first building, opening for use on Sept. 1, 1857, for the brand-new Maine State Seminary, forerunner of �ֲ���ý College.

Alumni Gymnasium

Roger Williams Hall (left) and Ladd Library (right) frame the path that ends at the red door of Alumni Gym, completed 100 years ago.

Pettengill Hall

Falling snow gives Pettengill Hall, dedicated in 1999, a bold, almost stern look. At left is Hedge Hall.

Hathorn Hall, redux

This wider view of Hathorn Hall shows the tree canopy on the Historic Quad closing in.

Class of 1906 Gate

The oft-photographed Class of 1906 Gate handles both a mantle of snow and leafy vines with equal grace.

Coram Library

Did you know that some paths on the Historic Quad, like the one from Coram Library (1902) to Hathorn, go unplowed in the winter?

The Gomes Chapel

Built in 1914, the chapel is made of distinctive seam-faced granite, quarried near Hingham, Mass., which has a different tone and hue depending on the light…and season.

April showers — plus a lot of help from a student work crew during Short Term — make May’s flowers look their best at �ֲ���ý.

Getting ready for Commencement weekend, �ֲ���ý landscape architect Bill Bergevin hires students to help with the springtime cleanup: field work, gardening, and laying mulch — 60 cubic yards’ worth — around campus.

Besides getting some extra paid help from his crew of four women and four men, “it’s a great opportunity for me to get to know the students on campus,” Bergevin says.

After digging into rigorous academic courses, workers like Max Millslagle ’17 of Bend, Ore., enjoy digging into the dirt during Short Term.

Max Millslagle ’17 of Bend, Ore., works on shrub beds next to the Kenison Gate on Campus Avenue. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ���ý College)

“I definitely notice where we have worked, and it’s always rewarding to see that we are making progress,” says Millslagle, who has done yard work as a summer job. “It’s nice being outside and playing around in some dirt.”

Millslagle isn’t taking a Short Term course this spring (students need to complete just two during their �ֲ���ý career), so he’s free to focus on this landscaping work, plus having fun with his soon-to-graduate classmates.

Two years younger, Jamie Kelleher ’19 from Redondo Beach, Calif., balances grounds work with fieldwork: Her Short Term anthropology course, “Encountering Community,” involves research in Lewiston-Auburn.

“One of the good things about this job is that there are structured times,” Kelleher explains. “My Short Term is mostly independent research, so this job gives me an opportunity to be outside, meet some new students, and make money at the same time. It also keeps me in very good shape!”

This is Bergevin’s 35th year at �ֲ���ý. Starting as a member of the Facility Services grounds crew, he has maintained a passion for planting, gardening, and making the campus look its best during prime time, Commencement weekend.

Bill Bergevin sweeps the sidewalk after a mulching session near Carnegie Science Hall. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ���ý College)

“It’s nice, hopefully, at the end of Short Term to take a breath, look at the campus, and feel a little bit of satisfaction that we played a part in how good it looks,” he says. “Because it almost always does look impressive for Commencement.”

“It’s cool to have a part in how campus is going to look when I graduate in a few weeks,” says Clarke Shipley ’17 of Andover, Mass.

In order to get his students squared away and ready to work by 8 a.m., Bergevin starts as early as 6:30 in the morning, rain or shine. He sets out and dries out (as needed) all of his equipment, consisting of several rakes, shovels, mulching forks, hoes, buckets, bins, tarps, dump truck, and a Bobcat skid-steer loader.

A big focus of the work is to clean up the shrub and flower beds, raking and removing leaves left over from the fall cleanup and removing winter debris.

“I try to look at the campus through other people’s eyes and see what I think they see,” Bergevin says. “I try to do everything that I can to make sure that the place looks good for everybody.”

Max Millslagle ’17 of Bend, Ore., JD Chow ’17 of Montclair, N.J., and Diego Marcogliese ’17 of Los Angeles take a brief break from work to pose for a photograph. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ���ý College)

Once all the beds are cleaned up all around campus, Bergevin and his students go through and lay down black mulch, delivered earlier in the spring by a company in nearby Poland.

The 60 yards of mulch is delivered to the Cutten Maintenance Center. Bergevin uses a college dump truck to haul large loads to where he and his students are working — dumping them on a large tarp — then uses the Bobcat to bring smaller loads closer to the beds.

Once all the mulching is done, the next project is to plant annuals and perennials around campus.

Diego Marcogliese ’17 of Los Angeles stretches himself to spread mulch near Carnegie Science Hall. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ���ý College)

Bergevin grows his own flowers in the campus greenhouse located next to Cutten Maintenance Center. This year, be on the lookout for Bill’s very own begonias and cleomes.

The Historic Quad, �ֲ���ý’ oasis, is one of Bergevin’s favorite �ֲ���ý places. As old trees come down, he’s selected and planted more than a few new trees over the years.

“It is rewarding to know that I played a role in how the campus is going to look for the next 50 to 100 years,” says Bergevin, with just a hint of a smile as he works, on his hands and knees, mulching beds near Carnegie Science Building.

With the maple now gone, there's a hole in the canopy where the sun comes in. (Jay Burns / �ֲ���ý College)

Lead groundskeeper Mike Adams takes a minute to watch the tree removal on July 29. (Jay Burns / �ֲ���ý College)

The northern tooth fungus likely created the sugar maple's craggy "hobbit-ness." (Jay Burns / �ֲ���ý College)

Bill Bergevin, the college's landscape architect, takes a look at the final, 20-foot section of trunk that was felled on July 29. (Jay Burns / �ֲ���ý College)

After sawing through its base, workers from Whitney Tree Service push over the final 20 feet of the sugar maple that toppled on the evening of July 28, 2016. (Josh Kuckens / �ֲ���ý College)

“The hobbit-ness of it — so gorgeous,” said Professor Emerita of Biology Sharon Kinsman as she watched a local tree service remove a huge, old sugar maple that had toppled over the previous evening, July 28, during a thundershower.

The tree, about 20 feet of which was left standing, was famously gnarled and craggy, with a crack up its side “that you could put your hand all the way into,” said Kinsman, explaining its hobbit quality.

It stood tall about 40 paces from the Quad-side door of Carnegie Science Hall and was about a century old, give or take 20 years, judging from a ring count, though counting was hard due to the aforementioned cragginess.

Call the kids and your inner kid: Log loader, chipper, and chain saws in action, plus a final “TIMBER!”

“That tree had a life…and it supported a lot of life,” Kinsman said. One responder to a called the tree an “owl condo.” And when workers toppled the final 20-foot section, not hobbits but bumblebees emerged from its craggy interior.

The bees were “Bombus impatiens, the common Eastern bumblebee, the kind we have in my lab,” says Assistant Professor of Biology Carla Essenberg, who studies the mutually beneficial relationship between  plants and bee pollinators.

So in this relationship, the bees have probably lost a good friend.

The northern tooth fungus likely created the sugar maple’s craggy “hobbit-ness.” (Jay Burns / �ֲ���ý College)

Any number of fungi can rot and weaken a tree, explains Assistant Professor of Biology Brett Huggett, whose research looks at how trees respond to stress.

The �ֲ���ý hobbit tree, he says, was likely infected with the northern tooth fungus. “Its days were numbered.”

Another sign of fungus was the large burls on its trunk, “very sought-after by bowl turners because they have beautiful wood grain,” says Huggett, who recalls in Jamaica Plain, Mass., a few years ago.

Lead groundskeeper Mike Adams takes a minute to watch the tree removal on July 29. (Jay Burns / �ֲ���ý College)

While a wood chipper chewed up the smaller branches (and even some of the larger ones — wow!) right there on the Quad, the huge trunk and branches went away with Whitney Tree Service of New Gloucester.

Some trees that Whitney Tree takes away can be used for lumber, explains company owner David MacDonald, but the poor quality of the fungus-infected tree meant that it will likely be broken up into a biomass product that can be used for erosion control, among other purposes.

Now there’s a big hole in the tree canopy over the Historic Quad, and if the Quad were the deep woods, one tree falling would open the door for new growth.

Bill Bergevin, the college’s landscape architect, takes a look at the final, 20-foot section of trunk that was felled on July 29. (Jay Burns / �ֲ���ý College)

“That’s forest succession,” explains Huggett, who created, with his students, the �ֲ���ý Canopy tree resource, featuring a clickable map of the Quad’s trees.

“A fallen tree allows seedlings that couldn’t grow in dense shade to get a foothold and possibly rise up. Or smaller, suppressed trees might have rapid growth when exposed to light and rise up to fill the spot.”

The Quad canopy, however, is a human creation, dating to when founder Oren Cheney and others would plant saplings on the open field that was the early Quad.

With the maple now gone, there’s a hole in the canopy where the sun comes in. (Jay Burns / �ֲ���ý College)

And the Quad’s tree succession remains in human hands, mostly those of Bill Bergevin, the college’s landscape architect, who chooses a tree for the annual ceremony, right after Convocation, to honor faculty and staff who died the prior year.

Tree succession is about the cycle of life, as is the post-Convocation memorial, which partly explains why Bergevin said what he said as he watched the Whitney guys do their thing. “I know where the memorial tree will go this year.”

Somerville is an incubator for young alums adjusting to the real world, says Swita Charansomboon '04, standing in Davis Square near a familiar mass-transit symbol. Photograph by Phyllis Graber Jensen.

It’s 8:15, and I’m on the MBTA’s Red Line doing the morning-commute thing into Boston from Somerville, Mass. Half-asleep in my wrinkled business-casual clothes, I’m on autopilot, mouthing the conductor’s words: “Daaavis”…”Porter”…”Hahvahd”…”Doors open on the right.” I plug into my iPod, and the Deansmen’s “Fliptop Twister” transports me back to �ֲ���ý, to my fourth-floor room in Adams where I can hear the Deansmen singing on Olin’s terrace.

Suddenly, one face among the morning commuters strikes a clear note in my head. The Patagonia jacket, the messy bun, the glasses — she was in one of my psychology classes. Jacky? Janet? Our eyes meet across the heads of other riders, and after two seconds of recognition we both look away.

I didn’t feel much like a �ֲ���ýie that morning. Neither did she, apparently.

But why not? I always miss �ֲ���ý during my morning commute. It starts with the small wish to enjoy just one more long breakfast in Commons with friends. That starts a domino effect, as I recall when the guy upstairs ate seven hot peppers on a dare during Junk Food Night at Commons, walks to Dairy Joy during Short Term with all my hallmates, and the happy feeling of finding a slip for a package in my mailbox.

When the �ֲ���ý campus tips at graduation and spills 450 or so graduates into the real world, many young alums (not to mention grads from other NESCAC schools) end up about in and around Somerville. According to College records, around 150 so-called BOLD alums (Bobcats of the Last Decade) live in the three Somerville zip codes — probably more if you count the usual number of “undocumented” young �ֲ���ýies.

It’s small wonder that the “�ֲ���ýies in Somerville” Facebook group says that you can’t go to a bar in Davis Square and not run into a �ֲ���ýie.”

If we chose to attend �ֲ���ý for high-minded reasons, we choose to live in Somerville and similar neighborhoods for more prosaic ones, like cheap rent or access to the T and I-93. Like college admissions, there’s a legacy effect, too. For example, Sherika Blevins ’05 moved to Somerville because a �ֲ���ý friend, now her current roommate, had preceded her, settling in Magoun Square.

Beyond convenience, Somerville is also an incubator, its comfortable, laid-back atmosphere helping young alums adjust to city life. “The typical �ֲ���ýie is usually not the city type,” suggests Mihoko Maru ’05. “So it makes sense for us to live in Somerville. It has an off-campus housing feel, which I appreciate since I always lived in houses at �ֲ���ý.”

Last night, as I walked down Holland Avenue toward Teele Square for a �ֲ���ý gathering, I moved among Tufts students with backpacks and young professionals toting logoed messenger bags. Even the pace felt the same as walking the Quad.

Somerville is also where new challenges accelerate our sense of personal change (which is part of the reason we might feel ambivalent about our �ֲ���ýie identity on the T). These common challenges are the same for everybody, says Blevins. “It’s hard to find a job, and the starting pay for college grads is pretty sad. It’s a hard, big dose of reality.”

The new post-�ֲ���ý reality can make us question choices we made at �ֲ���ý. A gathering at a friend’s house under the pretense of “catching up” might instead focus on feeling trapped in a job we took just to pay off student loans. Or we might envy business or engineering graduates from major universities who seem to have their entire careers mapped out. We fret about not choosing a job in our major field and losing touch with our passion — or we question whether it was our passion in the first place. We worry about running out of time to figure it all out. “Scared” is a word I hear a lot during our gatherings.

Katie Harris ’04 runs the Interlibrary Borrowing Office at MIT. “I had no idea what I wanted to do after �ֲ���ý,” she says. “I only knew that I wanted to avoid working in a corporate atmosphere.” After a short stint in a bookstore, she found the MIT job. Now with a better sense of her strengths, she hopes to go to graduate school. “I can take what was a practical career move and infuse it with something I love, like studying art, cultures, and history,” she says.

Real-world pressures get personal, too. A college romance fails the test of distance, or good friends drift apart. “Sadly, it’s been very hard to stay in touch with those who moved elsewhere,” says Harris. “Facebook helps, though.”

One recent grad talked about how his friendship with another grad tensed up after they shared an apartment. “We both needed to save money and we were friends at �ֲ���ý, so I thought it would be more of the same fun. But we were on very different schedules, so we couldn’t hang out after work. It was just completely different from �ֲ���ý.” They each found their own place after their lease expired.

Asked what they missed about �ֲ���ý, these young alums listed a number of specifics — like running into friends at the library on late nights or adventures in Maine — that complement my own memories. Taken together, they create both a wistful longing for �ֲ���ý community and a hope to find it in the real world.

“The �ֲ���ý community gives students emotional well-being,” Maru says. At BU, where she just completed a one-year master’s program in psychology, “I really had to plan if I wanted to see people.” This contradiction — missing �ֲ���ý, finding a bit of it in Somerville, yet needing to move on — fuels the conflicting emotions in recent grads who pass by each other in Somerville.

The future? The indie band Modest Mouse sings, “We’ll all float on OK.” And secretly, we suspect that when we eventually figure out what we really want to do, we will do better than OK.

By Swita Charanasomboon ’04
A summa cum laude major in French and psychology, Swita Charanasomboon ’04 was a research analyst for McKinsey and Co. after graduation and is now studying at the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania.

The early-spring campus look comes during Winter Carnival festivities, yet the 50-degree warmth promised to comfort one group of �ֲ���ýies: those prepping for the annual Winter Carnival Puddle Jump at Lake Andrews, scheduled for late afternoon.