Tuesday nights were Fenwick nights. My friends and I packed up our bags and headed over to the library from our freshman residence hall in the Honors College Living Learning Community, stopped for some Argo Tea on the first floor, and settled in for the evening. Some of the time we’d get our homework done in silence, but usually we would only make it ten or fifteen minutes before one of us got so excited about what we were doing that we looked up, flipped our laptop screen around, and whispered, “Did you know…?!” One of my best friends was studying Russian and global affairs; another was a conflict major; another was a pre-med biology major—so, in addition to my own economics homework, I learned Russian words and conflict theories and chemical compounds in hushed whispers from across the library table.
At midnight, when the library staff told us to go home, we’d pack up our bags again and head to Southside for late night. Over mac-and-cheese wedges and vanilla soft serve topped with Cinnamon Toast Crunch, we talked about our class projects, asked big philosophical questions, and planned weekend trips in practically the same breath.
Living with other freshmen who were passionate about learning gave me the freedom to be passionate about it, too, even though our shared love of learning often ran into the difficulty of differing opinions. I came to Mason from a small high school where most of my friends thought like me. When I first met one of my now-best friends at the Honors College Celebration of Excellence event, it took us about ten minutes to hit significant areas of disagreement—I’m talking religion-and-politics significant. Six months later, when the two of us moved onto the same floor with twenty-two other freshmen, our floor quickly found that we had twenty-four different opinions. If we weren’t careful, our late-night discussions would turn into heated debates. We had to learn how to disagree without offense, how to balance conviction and compassion.
It wasn’t easy. But as it turns out, the kind of friends who are willing to challenge you are also the friends who know your parents by name, help you move, and take care of you when you’re sick. In sophomore year, after we’d moved to different residence halls, my friends and I met for dinner in the dining hall almost every night. Over paninis and salads and pizza, we asked “Guess what I learned today?!”, celebrated our wins, and shared our disappointments. In junior year, we not only continued to proofread each other’s papers but also hung out at each other’s apartments, visited each other’s hometowns, and went on road trips.
Now we’re seniors halfway through our last semester. Though Tuesday nights are no longer Fenwick nights, we still make tea at midnight and stay up late to discuss big questions. We’re still celebrating each other’s wins, which now look like job offers and graduate school acceptances, and we’re still sharing each other’s losses—graduate school rejections, hard classes, and the ins and outs of pandemic life. Despite our debates, discussions, and disagreements, living in the Honors LLC didn’t primarily give me intellectual opponents or allies. It gave me friends.
When you’re choosing where to go to college, you should look for a university with interesting classes and accomplished professors that will prepare you for graduate school or your career. I’ve certainly found those at Mason. I’ve also found, though, that it’s important to choose a university where you’ll learn from your peers. Inside Mason’s classrooms, I learned programming languages, the mechanics of writing a research paper, and the major schools of macroeconomic thought, all of which are valuable lessons that I’ll apply to my career post-graduation. But outside Mason’s classrooms, in Fenwick and Southside and my own living room, I learned to love learning and to discuss big questions with respect, compassion, and love—and those are lessons I’ll carry with me wherever I go.