I’ve been thinking a lot about the passing of time lately. Maybe it’s because it’s the first weeks of my final year in college, or perhaps it’s that time has lost its linear nature it once seemed to have. We spend so much of college being told to “make the most of it” or that “it goes by so quickly.” In some sense, I agree. The first year of college feels like three weeks ago, but memories I have of the people and places from that time feel so distant. What is it about time that can seem so familiar, yet simultaneously never touchable again?
The value of time isn’t measured by how efficiently we spend it or how much we do; for me, time can only really be appreciated when we slow down and recognize the time and space we’re in and everything before then that got us here. To avoid the risk of sounding like I fell out of a coconut tree, I will try to be more specific about what I mean when I say this — no promises, though.
As I’m sure we’ve all learned at this point in our lives, time is irreplaceable. Although in college we tend to spend it worrying about grades, achievements or money, that’s really more about ensuring that we can survive in a world built around success being how much money we make or how busy we appear. Isn’t it the mundane parts of life that really matter? Life would be so dull if all we ever did was work towards being the most productive version of ourselves, in a capital sense.
Value and success should be measured in the unplanned moments — late-night conversations with friends, wandering around aimlessly or even watching mindless sitcoms when you should be doing homework. When was the last time you noticed joy in something so simple, rather than letting joy be dictated by other people’s idea of success? These moments cannot be recreated, which is why time isn’t something that should be managed or maximized, but something that should be noticed and cherished before it becomes a memory.
Part of this challenge is that college prepares us for a world where time is measured by productivity. Grades, internships, networking and future career goals are constantly competing for our attention. Yet, in the middle of all this, we often forget how to spend time doing “nothing.” These moments aren’t flashy or impressive, but their impermanence makes them so powerful. College will end. Friendships will change. Our daily lives will continue to look different in every phase that follows. The places and people that define these years will never exist in the same way again, and if we let it, these moments will be blurred by the distraction of becoming adults, even though it seems like many people (including myself) don’t even know what that entails.
That’s why slowing down matters. Even in the phases of life that people tell us to “prepare for,” the truth is we rarely know exactly what we’re supposed to be doing, even when we are doing it. College is supposed to prepare us for the future. Still, even three years and some change later, I can tell you that I feel about the same level of preparedness for entering the adult world as I did walking in as a first-year, just with more hours of reading under my belt. I’m not saying that to be cynical; I think college has taught me a lot both academically and socially, but it has also reminded me that no amount of preparation or studying can take away the uncertainty of life.
Maybe the best way to prepare for life isn’t to obsess over what is supposed to come next, but to treasure all the confusion and unpredictability that makes this time worth remembering.
Mia Tero, FCRH’26, is a journalism and communications and culture studies double major from Eliot, Maine.
