With my junior year behind me, the end of college suddenly feels right around the corner. It seems like just yesterday I was grabbing meals with strangers in Annenberg, writing Expos 20 essays, and making my frequent treks to and from Pennypacker 27. I always knew my time at Harvard would fly by—everyone told me it would—but I always thought that maybe, if I kept a close enough eye on the clock, I could slow it down. I remember finishing freshman fall and thinking, “Wow, that’s 1/8th of the way done,” hoping that keeping a tally might help me hold on to time a little longer. But time well spent inevitably slips away.
So, rather than wasting energy on a futile fight against Father Time, we should focus instead on making the most of the moments we have here. I want to offer my thoughts on a question that’s always on my mind: how can we make the most of our time at Harvard? Of course, there’s no single answer—everyone’s life and goals differ. But if we aim to maximize our overall satisfaction, we can start to build a framework for making decisions about how to spend our time here.
One common strategy is to pursue whatever makes us happiest in the moment. While this idea sounds appealing, it offers little real guidance—and doesn’t necessarily lead to a satisfying life. For example, I could scroll on Instagram Reels for the rest of my life and feel content in the moment—only to experience deep regret during a final moment of reflection. True satisfaction comes not just from present choices, but from how those choices hold up over time.
A better method, then, is to minimize regret. Make decisions that your future self will be thankful for. While it is difficult to predict your future feelings, you can identify the past decisions that evoke a sense of regret and then make the opposite decision in the future. One primary source of regret for me is missed opportunities. For example, I wish I had continued my soccer career through high school. I quit in 9th grade and didn’t realize my mistake until my junior year, when I rejoined the team (this time from the bench). I remember being unwilling to wake up early in the summer for practice. But I don’t remember the extra sleep, and I missed my last opportunity to play a key role in a team sport for my school. So, what opportunities does college offer that we might not have again? In other words, what makes this time—and this place—so special? If we can figure that out, we’ll be better able to take advantage of those things before they disappear.
Maybe it’s the location. Cambridge is a beautiful, vibrant, storied city. So yes, we should row on the Charles, run the river path, lounge in the Yard, grab drinks on Felipe’s rooftop—and on Wednesdays, bring some friends and ride the Grendel’s to Charlie’s Trivia Night pipeline. These are all great things to do; however, they ultimately are not what make Harvard memorable. The river and the activities in our Square will still be here when we return.
If not the place, then perhaps it’s the academics. Harvard is renowned for its diverse courses and broad liberal arts education. To take advantage of this opportunity, then, we should step outside of our comfort zones, explore classes in unfamiliar fields, and commit time to study and reflection. Learning, however, is a lifelong pursuit. Textbooks can be bought, lectures found online, YouTube is free, and the local library is open Monday through Saturday.
Maybe, then, it’s the freedom college gives us. Freshman year is a crash course in independence: suddenly, your choices are entirely your own. The training wheels are off—no one tells you when to sleep, when to study, or how to spend your time. So stay up late, make dumb decisions, and have fun. But freedom isn’t unique to college—in fact, our independence will only grow as we take more responsibility after graduation.
So if it’s not the place, not the academics, and not the independence—what is it?
You probably saw this coming, but it’s the people: the proximity, the community, and the shared values. One of the things that makes Harvard truly special is the housing system. While I may grumble about paying for HUDS, I think that it’s incredible that for four years, we get to live within walking distance of nearly everyone we know. That kind of proximity is rare—and it won’t last forever.
Of course, access to people isn’t enough on its own. What makes this proximity meaningful is that the people who are close to us are part of a shared journey. We all worked hard to get here. We all made the same decision to spend four years of our lives at this place, yet everyone has such a unique story and perspective. We’re all working toward graduation—and trying to figure out what comes next. Yes, we’re a diverse student body. But we’re also a community, united by curiosity, ambition, and the desire to make the most of our time.
So say hello. Smile and wave at someone on your way to class. Spend time getting to know people, and cherish time with your friends. Go to office hours and talk with your professors. Learn the names of your house’s dining hall staff. Have those philosophical, argumentative, and vulnerable conversations, and be open to learning from those around you. Go out of your way to make memories with the people you love, who are living this shared life with you—for only four very short years.
Congratulations to the seniors on your graduation. Hopefully I’ll be where you are in just one year—but I can’t say I envy you right now. I’ll be holding onto my final year as tightly as I can, and I can’t wait to spend it with this amazing community.
Andrew Morrissey ‘26 ([email protected]) is ready for the beach.