David Hawkins (B.A. ’92, M.A. ’94) is Chief Education and Policy Officer at the National Association for College Admission Counseling in Arlington, Va. He preferred the Caf to the Marketplace while at the college. (There was no Sadler Center, though he did meet the actual Sam Sadler.) Feel free to connect with him on LinkedIn at https://www.linkedin.com/in/davidahawkinsedu/, as he’s happy to provide help to students to take their first steps toward gainful employment.
The views expressed in the article are the author’s own.
Mollie Shiflett’s ’26 staff column from Oct. 22 (“Homecoming is kind of weird, right?”) got me thinking. I remember Homecoming when I was a student at the College of William and Mary in the late ’80s and early ’90s. It was a little weird. Wistful alumni, clad in various flavors of green and gold, wandered about in their own dimension. Back then, I mostly ignored the influx of elders, secure in the knowledge that, at the time, campus was my home.
I got a chuckle reading that, at 56, I’m tugging on the median age at Paul’s Deli from the right side of the bell curve. I used to close down Paul’s regularly as a student, though you won’t find me there past 9 p.m. now. I also smiled at Mollie’s reference to what Boswell Hall used to be. As a government major, I took most of my classes in the unreconstructed version of that building, formerly known as Morton Hall, or Morton “Hell.”
Thirty-three years have passed since I graduated from the College, 31 since finishing graduate school. And Mollie’s column begged a question to which I had no answer when I was a student: Why do we come back?
Life since college has been full of demands associated with making a living, everyday tasks like procuring meals, caring for family members both young and old who depend on you, maintaining homes and automobiles, managing yourself/maintaining your sanity, saving for retirement and avoiding, as best you can, existential dread. I don’t want to scare you — life after college is also full of fulfillment, joy, excitement and accomplishment that will sustain you. But a life well lived is difficult. Fatigue tends to be cumulative, so the longer you live, the more you end up carrying with you. As the years go by, one’s days in college can feel like a haven, the time before you were thrown into the fire.
Relieving the burden of a working life is a powerful and essential thing to do. Returning to campus is one of the central ways I have found to restore my energy and my sense of who I am. But in 33 years, I’ve only come back to Homecoming once — in 1993, the year after I graduated. I’m an introvert, so being in town with thousands of others crowding hotels, parking lots, walkways, stores and buildings around campus holds no appeal. Instead, I prefer to drop in once or twice a year on a long weekend to be as unobtrusive as possible and to minimize human interaction.
But why is returning to campus powerful for me? I came to the College from Lynchburg, Va. Attending college here opened my eyes to a world I never knew existed. I made close friends, allowed my mind to expand and wander in search of the person who had heretofore been defined altogether differently and became a confident, independent, optimistic young adult.
The things that I cultivated and practiced here became the pillars of my life after college: critical and analytical thinking, intellectual honesty, curiosity and ethics, the contentment of immersing yourself in reflection and contemplation, open-mindedness, and a commitment to lifelong learning are properties that help me flourish and work with others in our increasingly diverse yet seemingly fragmented world. But I get busy, overwhelmed and stressed, and sometimes lose sight of these things among the millions of other thoughts that race through my mind each day. And that’s why coming back here is so essential for me. It reminds me of where I found these things and really learned who I was.
For some alumni, of course, it’s a lot simpler than this. They had a good time here and want to see their friends in situ, so to speak. Nostalgia has applications — some good, some not so good — for people’s psychological health. In cases like mine, it is restorative and a reminder that the person who walked these grounds so many years ago is still alive and kicking. In other cases, nostalgia can present an unhealthy or counterproductive attachment to a past that is no longer. Bruce Springsteen’s “Glory Days” is an effective illustration of this phenomenon. I would be hypocritical if I said I didn’t do a little of this, like listening to a playlist of songs from each of the four years I was here while I walk around the campus and have a couple of beers at Paul’s.
But my experience here, and the way the College served me in my unique circumstance, is something I will always cherish. And it makes me feel like when I come back, I belong.
If you can tolerate a few more words, I will leave you with these nuggets:
- I hope you enjoy your time here. If you have a good experience attending the College, remember what made it special and use that as a touchstone throughout your life.
- When you go out into the world, pace yourself. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.
- If you see an alumna or alumnus wandering campus, gazing off in their own dimension, give ‘em a smile. That might be you in 30 years.
Thank you, Mollie, and all current students, for tolerating us old folks when we come ‘home.’
