Polling Precinct 6 at Parkes Hall expected crowds. But at around 2:00 p.m. the large, high-ceilinged room serving South Campus voters echoed with only the voices of the volunteer election judges seated behind the table by the entrance. The scene stood in stark contrast to the commotion going on elsewhere around campus, such as in Norris, where all afternoon long lines of students waited for free cake batter and cookie dough ice cream being handed out by Ben & Jerry’s.

At Patten Hall, Precinct 9, there were no lines at all. By 3:00 p.m., only 103 students had voted at the precinct, which served North Campus voters though campus voting stations remained open until 7 p.m. The Precinct’s election judges said there had been a slow but steady trickle throughout the day, and suggested that most students had probably already voted by absentee ballot or utilized early voting opportunities. All together, 779,000 people voted early in Chicago and the collar counties, according to the Chicago Tribune.

Voting early and voting absentee didn’t necessarily mean less complications for voters.

“I know someone who just got their absentee ballot yesterday,” said Communication freshman Rachel Berger, who wasn’t able to vote because she is only 17.

“I know someone who had to overnight his absentee ballot because it came so late,” said Weinberg sophomore Mike Goldstein. He is worried his absentee ballot, which he mailed in about two weeks ago, won’t be counted because of a small difference between the name he wrote on the ballot and the name he registered with. He registered without a middle initial, but included one on his ballot.

Weinberg junior Jonathon Rosenblatt, voting in his second election, couldn’t vote absentee because he lives in Cook County. He chose to vote early instead, but said he was frustrated with how long he had to wait in line and described a chaotic scene in which allegedly incompetent volunteers were unhelpful to voters having trouble using the voting machines.

Then sometimes, even when absentee ballot requests were sent in, the ballot itself never arrived. Weinberg freshman Andrew Duble registered for his New York absentee ballot but didn’t receive it. He eventually had his parents pick one up in person and mail it to him. “If it hadn’t come in time, there is not much I could have done,” Duble said.

Some students registered in Illinois who never received their absentee ballot could vote with a provisional ballot, according to the election judges of Precinct 9. This required two forms of ID, proof of residence and a Social Security number. The validity of votes cast provisionally is determined only after election day, at which point the vote may not be counted, according to Illinois’ Provisional Voting Rights and Limitations.

“The absentee ballot system isn’t perfect,” said Duble, suggesting that there should be a system to check the mailing status online. “But it felt good to vote. It felt like I was making a difference.”

“Life’s a journey, not a destination,” says Dr. Michael Smutko, who teaches the popular science course Modern Cosmology. Smutko has seen a steady 10 percent drop rate in the class over the past five years. He is concerned that students sometimes have the wrong attitude about college, causing them to drop out of classes at the first hint of difficulty. “Being at a school like NU is a privilege that should be savored as much as possible,” he says. “It’s not about extra credit and strategizing the path of least resistance to graduation.”

But every quarter, students are still abuzz with the best stress strategy of all: dropping a class entirely. The number of drops processed on CAESAR between the add and drop deadline gives an estimate of how many students drop classes every quarter. In Fall Quarter of 2007, there were 228 instances of dropped classes, 59 percent of which were processed in the week before the last day to drop a class. The numbers increased to 319 last winter, 78 percent of which were processed in the last week, and decreased to 184 last spring, with 57 percent occurring in the last week. Evidently, students like to wait until the last moment to drop if they do decide to do so.

Weinberg sophomore Jason Catanese dropped Introduction to the Solar System on the drop deadline of Fall Quarter his freshman year, citing dissatisfaction with his grade as the major reason. “I was passing the class, but if I would’ve stayed with it, there was a chance I wouldn’t have passed, and it would’ve brought my GPA down,” Catanese said.

“Since then, I’ve grown and adapted to what college is like — I’ve learned that even if you think you are doing poorly in a class, if you go in and talk to your professor, and go to office hours, you can really improve your grade,” Catanese said. “I don’t see myself dropping any classes for the rest of my time here.”

If there’s no chance you can pass a class, dropping might be your best option, but first, “go in and talk to your professor,” Catanese recommended. Most professors are willing to help instead of telling you to drop the class.

Smutko said he feels no “schadenfreude” from the fact that people drop Cosmology. “I’ve just accepted that 1 out of 10 people will drop,” Smutko said.

But the reasons students have for dropping a class are sometimes questionable. “Students have all kinds of reasons for dropping classes, some of them good and some of them less so,” Philosophy Assistant Professor Kyla Ebels-Duggan said.

Ebels-Duggan taught a 200-level course called Classics of Ethical Theory last Spring, and saw the enrollment drop from 110 students to 100 students over the course of the quarter.

Students often seem to have an expectation that distribution classes should be graded easily and require little work, Ebels-Duggan said. “Some students have a legitimate interest in finding classes that will meet their distro requirements without demanding too much work, but I don’t pitch this class at those students,” Ebels-Duggan said. “I tell people up front that the class is demanding, not to scare them off, but to give them the information that they need to make a reasonable decision about whether the class is what they are looking for.”

Smutko has similar concerns. One of the most common reasons for dropping, he thinks, was the class being more difficult than anticipated — a pattern that worries him. “In the five years that I’ve been at NU,” he said, “I’ve found it troubling that more and more students are signing up for classes based largely on how easy they think that the classes will be. The only thing that seems to be important is a 4.0 at the end of four years so that they can get into the right med school, law school, or business school. Whether or not they learned anything along the way seems to be irrelevant.”

Perhaps Smutko is right — maybe the quarterly dropping frenzy is an indication of a larger problem. Are we really so focused on a string of letters on our transcripts that we are willing to just throw four weeks’ worth of work out the window? It can often seem like Northwestern, with its bounty of career-hungry Medill journalists and McCormick engineers, plus a slew of Weinberg students stuck in the rut of the pre-med route, is too pre-professional. People sometimes forget that we’re here to learn.

Dropping classes should be a last resort, not a quick fix to prevent a blemish on your transcript. The pass/no credit option is also available for most classes. Taking a class P/N can be very rewarding, relieving the stress of making the grade without sacrificing the learning experience. Jaci Rivera, the assistant registrar, hypothesized that “the significantly lower number of drops in the fall could indicate that the extra three months of registration over the summer allows students more opportunity to arrange their schedules, making dropping less necessary.”

So perhaps this quarter, put more thought into registration, and don’t expect all your distros to be easy next quarter. After all, “college is supposed to be about trying new things,” as Smutko said. “This includes failing sometimes, but becoming wiser—not just smarter—in the process.”

More than thirty restaurants, including favorites like Sashimi Sashimi, Flat Top, and Cosi, are participating this year. All you have to do is check in between 4:00 and 5:30 pm outside of Norris, at Whole Foods, or the Fountain Square at 1603 Orrington.

All Northwestern students are welcome to join in the feast– it’s something you definitely don’t want to miss.

The other day, I was cleaning out a supply closet for Project Wildcat when I stumbled upon a small stack of forgotten, enveloped letters sitting among a messy tangle of ropes. As soon as I picked them up, I could tell they were the kind you wrote to yourself to be opened at a later date. Silently, I slipped the abandoned envelopes into my bag, imagining they were better read by someone than by no one at all.

Leaving Norris, letters in tow, I had the strange sensation that the world had turned a bright, grassy green, and I hadn’t even noticed. In a sudden rush, I tore the envelopes open and began to read. Dated May 2002, the words were strangely familiar. One letter closed with a last-minute reminder: “Cherish these next few years. Freshman year went by fast, and the next three will go by faster. Don’t waste it.” I wrote almost the exact same phrases several weeks ago, when I was instructed to write one of these letters, and again before that, four years earlier as a freshman in high school.

How can we make any sense of this advice, when we’re all writing it to ourselves as we watch the years fly behind us in a colorful, indistinct ribbon? As this year winds down, it seems like the common sentiment among students — freshmen and seniors alike — is shock at how fast the year has gone. But hardly anyone appears to have time to reflect about it.

I’ve started to wonder if it’s even possible to be a sentimentalist in college, when you don’t live in the same place for more than nine months, when friends can seem more transient than permanent, and when you hardly have time to wash your dirty laundry, let alone fondly ponder yesteryear. Looking around my room, it’s easy to see that I’ve tried. My desk is cluttered with Sharpie-dated champagne corks and Sponge Bob toys from BK kid’s meals. Next to the snapshots of my best friend and little brothers, I’ve hung an Iron & Wine ticket stub, a bar night wristband, and a dog-eared map I used to navigate a Pwild camping trip.

I’ve always had an unquenchable desire to record. I may have moved on from the spiral notebooks of sixth grade, filled with looping purple jelly pen, but the sentimentality persists — only now it’s recorded in a haphazard collection of spurious Gmails sent to myself and dear-diarys mashed between philosophy notes. I just want to capture each patch and quilt it together into that bundly blanket of experience that makes up our lives: the silly and the dark, the bad and the happy. But there comes a point when you get so swept up in this that you miss out on the flow of spontaneity and beauty of the present.

As the conclusion of yet another school year looms, there is still the persistent fear that the days are slipping away fast and unnumbered — my mind running over the things I aspired to do, measuring it up to what I did, and counting the many disparities — but it’s silly to dwell. Spring at college seems a strange paradox. While the world wakes up from winter and comes alive, students think about peeling their posters down from their wall and boxing up their books, bombarded with solicitations from shipping and storage companies that serve as a constant reminder of our temporariness.

Spring shouldn’t be about endings, though. Earlier this month, the Chicago Tribune ran a column by Garrison Keillor, titled “This Spring, Let’s All Be Ourselves.” The subtitle of the article declares that “the beauty of May is that the whole country is more or less on the same page, called Spring, in Minnesota or California or Georgia or Vermont”. And it’s true. Here we are. Keillor advises that, despite our entrenchment in this individualist culture, we “enjoy this brief period of consanguinity.”

Keillor knows what he’s talking about. In the wake of Facebook egotism and all the lines we draw amongst ourselves, you have to realize it’s a day-to-day life and remember that the details we think define us aren’t as important as we believe. It’s easy to be overly sentimental, holding on tightly to everything that makes you special and letting it accumulate, cluttering your desk. But at its extreme, sentimentality accomplishes nothing. What really defines us, after all, isn’t what makes us unique, but what we have in common with each other, despite how alone we might feel. “Here we are,” writes Keillor, “in a green paradise, stomachs churning, eyeballs flickering…feeling alienated from the people around us who feel similarly alienated from us.”

We all just end up writing the same things in our letters to ourselves anyhow — take comfort in that.

Update, 3:57 p.m.: Facebook seems to have closed off the down-arrow thing, but try entering “.” in your search box. The results seem to be the same.

Since it was posted around 1 p.m., the post has received more than 200 comments and counting.

Here’s what popped up on my account, in order:

1. A random boy who I briefly had a crush on back in Winter Quarter. I’d forgotten about him until now… but it appears he might not have forgotten about me. If this whole hullaballoo is true, that is. The appearance of this name is the most convincing evidence for me that these are people searching for you, since I haven’t searched this name frequently or recently.
2. My BFF and future roommate. This could go either way, since we both probably search for each other somewhat frequently.
3. My current roomie. Since she’s awesome, I know I search for her occasionally, and I’d guess she does the same for me. Again, inconclusive.
4. My editor…hmm. This is interesting. I wouldn’t have picked her out as someone I search for often on Facebook, or as someone who searches for me on Facebook. But it’s plausible, and could go either way.
5. Another boy…sigh! Someone who I search for with some frequency, probably too much frequency, but would be surprised if he was searching for me. Surprised, but delighted, I might add.

From this list, I can say somewhat conclusively that these are not the five people you search for most often. The evidence? My best friend from home, who I know I search more often than most if not all of these people, is markedly absent from the list. And someone who I search for hardly or never is present. The mystery thickens..what significance do these five people have? One commenter hypothesized that it is “matching the frequency of times that you search for someone with the frequency of times that people search for you,” which may in fact be the most plausible theory.

Another commenter corroborated this, citing a supposed “canned response” from a Facebook employee, which stated that the five names are the people Facebook assumes you would be most interested in, taking various factors into account.

Whether you’re an ex-cross-country star looking to regain your stride or a self-proclaimed bum who has never run in your life (except to lunch and to catch the bus), there’s still time to table your excuses and revive yourself from the winter slump you’ve been lulled into for the past five months. With a campus like this and a town like Evanston, there really is a run for everyone.

Why run?

Besides being a great cardiovascular workout, running can be its own form of therapy. It won’t take long for you to discover or rediscover the joys of the mythical “runner’s high.” A recent scientific study done in Germany corroborated this often-cited, rarely supported claim: It showed evidence of the “opioid theory,” which creates a feeling of euphoria after running. Running is like a legal drug — with health benefits.

Additionally, there have been numerous studies that show physical fitness is correlated to mental fitness. Getting in shape might counteract all of that heavy drinking that purportedly kills your brain cells.

For most people who run, however, the benefits far exceed these quantifiable ones. Something about getting out and getting into the rhythm makes running something certain people can’t imagine living without — a way to clear your mind, center yourself and see the world in a different light.

“The simplicity of running is refreshing,” McCormick Junior Kyle Holmberg said. “You just put your shoes on and go. It’s an escape. Just you, your mind and the world around you — for 30 minutes, an hour.”

Holmberg, co-president of the Northwestern Running Club, started running in eighth grade. “Running is a good way to set goals and work towards accomplishments,” he added. Holmberg has certainly put this philosophy into practice: He is a veteran of two Chicago Marathons and is training for the one coming up this October.

“It’s definitely a stress reliever,” he said.

Getting Started

Carol Krochmal, a master personal trainer at SPAC, has run more than 48 marathons since she took up running at age 17. So, I ask her, what’s the first thing to think about when you’re starting from scratch? Well, your feet.

“One of the most important things is to have decent shoes,” Krochmal said. She attributed the aches and pains that sometimes plague and discourage new runners to bad running shoes. If you don’t already own a pair of shoes designed for running, “go to a good running store and have them evaluate what kind of shoe is best for you.”

The closest running specialty store to campus is Murphy’s Fit, located on Dempster St. and Hinman Ave. You can also purchase running shoes at Williams Shoes, at 710 Church St., and Famous Footwear, at 817 Church St.

Once your feet are fitted up, don’t forget to stretch! Do it after you warm up for a couple of blocks and when you finish your run. The extra couple of minutes you spend doing this will pay off, so don’t skip it. Make sure to focus on your calves and hamstrings, the first places you’ll get sore when you are starting up.

When you’re first starting out, “run at a comfortable pace — don’t try to run full-out. When you get tired, walk a block and run again,” Krochmal advised. This way, you won’t tire yourself out before you complete a decent distance, and will be able to run for longer.

“Increase your distance by 10 to 20 percent per week,” Krochmal recommended. If you are starting out with one mile, don’t just jump to two miles the next day. Along with good shoes, this will prevent injuries like shin splints and blisters.

“If you need to and walk for part of it, or take a day off, you have to listen to your body and do that,” advised Holmberg for first time runners. “It’s important not to push yourself too hard when you’re first starting,” he said. Doing so will just cause you to get discouraged and give up before you can appreciate all the benefits of being a runner.

Where to go

One of the greatest joys of running is discovering your own favorite route, a secret path or hidden beach. Sometimes it’s great to just explore, running wherever your legs take you and stopping to rest and appreciate the beauty from the top of a lifeguard tower or beneath an ancient tree. The best routes are ones that you want to go on again and again. Here are four favorites:

For the novice: Ideal for beginners who want a shorter, familiar run, or for the expert who just can’t get enough of the Northwestern campus. Start at The Arch going southeast on Sheridan toward South Beach, and cut across to the path that runs along the beach, past the sailboats and left along the lake. Circle the Lakefill, stopping if you’re tired to revel in the beauty of the Chicago skyline, or for a quick pick-me-up at Willie’s Food Court. Just stay away from the chili dogs… at least until you’re out of your sneakers. It’s 1.84 miles; add 1.54 miles if starting from Patten. (Contributed by Kelsi Lindus)

For the child at heart: Start at the Arch and run toward the lake until you hit the paved path following the shore. Run south, following the path, past tennis courts and a playground. Turn around when the road you’re running around dead ends at the end of the second beach. Make sure to stop by the playground (marked in red) on the way back to play on the swings and slides. It’s 2.5 miles round trip; add 1.54 miles if starting from Patten.

For the spiritualist: Start at Patten Gymnasium and follow Sheridan Rd. north for a simple run that will take you past the lighthouse just north of campus, through the beautiful neighborhoods along the lake and, finally, to the breathtaking destination: the Bahai Temple. If you’re quiet and there’s no service in session, check out the amazing interior of this structure; it’s one of only seven of its kind in the entire world. It’s 2.41 miles round trip; add 1.54 miles if starting from the Arch.

For the ex-cross-country legend: Start at the Arch and run north on Sheridan Rd., turning left down Central Street (a block past the big field by Elder). Central Street is home to Ryan Field as well as numerous shops and bakeries, and running along the sidewalk can serve as a refreshing reminder of life outside the Northwestern bubble and its tidy 18 to 22 age range. Resist the urge to stop by every bakery you see, and keep running until you hit Great Harvest Bread Company on the corner of Central and Hartrey Ave. Slip into this friendly bakery for some free samples and a cool drink before embarking on your journey back to campus. It’s 4.44 miles round trip; subtract 1.54 miles if starting from Patten. (Contributed by Kelsi Lindus)

Staying strong

Sticking to a new exercise regime can be tough, especially when you’re not so in shape. But with the right tools, virtually anyone can work past the “pant gasp I give up” stage of running.

Khashayar Sarrafi, a master personal trainer at SPAC, recommends investing in a log book. “When you decide to get involved, log all your training from day one,” he said. “When you go back and look at it, you can see all you’ve done and how far you’ve come. It’s a really good tool to motivate you.”

Many free online tools can facilitate your progress. MapMyRun.com is a comprehensive online community for runners that abounds with useful tools, such as those that calculate the distance when you trace your path on a satellite map. Monitoring your progress can give you a greater feeling of accomplishment and a stronger commitment to keep at it.

Perhaps the best way to motivate yourself, as suggested by Sarrafi, is by signing up for a race, whether it’s a 5K fundraiser or, if you’re feeling ambitious, the Chicago Marathon. There is always something coming up; look for signs in Norris or in Evanston, or check the Northwestern Running Club’s Web site.

Most 5Ks are fundraisers for charitable causes too, which is another reason to keep on running. “When you’re involved in a race, there is something to motivate you,” Sarrafi said. “And when you finish your first 5K, you’ll feel great.”

Don’t get in a rut

Even veteran runners sometimes get stuck in a mundane, repetitious cycle, running the same two miles, at the same pace, on the same route, day after day. “Garbage miles — that’s what marathon runners refer to those as,” Krochmal said. So how do you break the routine and start actually getting something out of your workout? Speed intervals, tempo runs and hill runs.

“Once every week or every two weeks, do some speed work,” Krochmal said. “Warm up for a mile or so, and then start doing pickups. Run — really run — at 80-90 percent of your maximum speed for a block. Rest for a block, run for a block and continue this for about 10 blocks. At the end, you’ll feel absolutely exhausted, but you’ll have burned so much more fat and calories, and what you’re really doing is increasing your VO2 max,” or the maximum amount of oxygen that your body can transport and utilize during incremental exercise. It’s a reflection of how physically fit you are.

As for hills, Illinois is lacking, but you can take advantage of the man-made inclines in Evanston. The small slope on the Lakefill or Whole Foods’ parking ramp (watch for cars!) both work fine. Break up your routine by doing some repeats up any incline you can find. You’ll definitely feel an improvement in your workout.

It won’t take long to realize why so many people run. It’s so much more than just a way to stay in shape, as Krochmal said: “I’ll tell you — it’s the best exercise in the planet.”

I don’t remember much about the generic, winding tour I took when I first set foot on campus, but I do remember scoffing at what appeared to be a hybrid of the sidewalk and Megatron from Transformers: What was this behemoth of cement bulging out of the ground?

I asked the tour guide when Northwestern would finish the construction on this building. Surprisingly, he looked thrilled that he could share his snappy, pre-packaged remark, following the “clever joke + historical trivia + personal story = aww” formula: Basically, during the cementophilic 1960s, the library’s staggered anatomy was built to look like books being pulled from a shelf. Though it can be intimidating, he said, he had great memories studying late with his friends, and soon I would grow to love it too.

I hated the library from the start, but it only got worse when classes began. Bullying the library is a pastime at Northwestern. I found out that its architecture is classified as Brutalist—from the French for raw concrete, béton brut. For all of Fall Quarter, I avoided its single entrance like it was contagious with something nasty.

But by Reading Week, overrun with papers and exams, I conformed. Now I couldn’t admit to having never set foot in the library before. There was no excuse for being perplexed by the turnstiles. It was too late to ask how to escape the gloomy basement, so I wandered for 30 minutes until I found elevators that whisked me to the fifth floor. And then I saw the library in a new light.

The Evanston campus is often criticized for its cluttered architecture. Much of the campus looks far older than it is, thanks to the neo-Gothic work of James Gamble Rogers, who was hired as the university’s architect in 1921 and takes credit for Deering Library, Scott Hall and Lutkin Hall. His work contrasts with the ‘60s Brutalist architecture fashioned by the university’s most famous builder, the concrete-obsessed Walter Netsch, who designed Regenstein Hall, the clock tower and the library.

Maybe the contrast suits us. The buildings on campus range from the ancient-looking structures typical of an elite college to the modern and limit-pushing—an eclecticism that’s mirrored in the student body itself. “What really gives Northwestern’s campus its coherence is the landscaping,” former associate provost, Jeremy Wilson, said in a 2001 issue of Northwestern magazine. And that’s a beautiful thing: a mess of buildings dissimilar in age and architecture but tied together by a common landscape.

The university library is sort of like a maze, with its three, five-floored towers welded to the neo-Gothic, ivy-covered Deering Library next door. Netsch intended to devote each tower to a different discipline: humanities, social sciences and history. Today each one houses a variety of collections but retains its unique charm.

Who knew there was a beanbag nook in Core? A seminar room plastered with maps of the worlds? A hidden lounge between the main library and Deering? When I walk by the shelves, it’s like being caught inside the graph of a complex multivariable function. Everything moves away from me with elegance and symmetry—it’s a circular, graceful library.

The author surfing off of Kauai.

Wherever we went, there was one thing we all had in common: we were away from Northwestern. It’s not that campus is some evil, poisonous place — to me, it feels like home — but sometimes, you can’t really see your surroundings with any clarity when you’ve stared at them too long. The cliché you’ve heard so often about Northwestern being a bubble in fact has a lot of truth to it. (It’s pretty evident when you see students flocking to babies and dogs, as if they were strange alien creatures.) Without even noticing, we become enmeshed in the wash-rinse-repeat cycle of classes, cramming, complaining and going out one too many nights a week.

I spent spring break in Kauai, a tiny island in the Hawaiian chain that, because of its size and temperamental weather, is less popular than Maui. I guess no one wants to vacation in a place where rain clouds briefly but unpredictably interrupt the lazy, equator sun. Personally, I sort of like that chaos and capriciousness.

Arriving at the tiny airport in a crowd of haole, Hawaiian for foreigners, I felt I was invading this land so steeped in its own ancient culture. The frenzy of a baggage claim seemed fundamentally incompatible with the rain-eroded mountains, ribboned with white waterfalls, that framed every outdoor scene in a misted, almost-too-Kodak fashion. As soon as I greeted my two younger brothers and parents, though, it was as if my internal rhythm suddenly switched, adopting without hesitation the sing-songy, strumming pace of this place.

I could have lain on my back, appreciating the feel of sand and warm breeze, the salty air and the turquoise kai, or sea, for days on end. On a bit of a whim, though, I decided to try something I’ve always wanted to do: surfing. I’ve always been a bit of a landshark, Hawaiian slang for someone who loves the idea of surfing but doesn’t actually partake in the sport. I don’t even know what “hang ten” actually means. I always assumed that it was “high five’s” big brother: twice the fingers, and hanging, not high. But I’m pretty sure my interpretation has absolutely no merit.

Accordingly, even though I managed to catch a few waves before tumbling face first into the water, I mostly looked like a baby sloth trying to swim, scraping my knees and elbows on the surfboard, and getting briny and sunburnt. But whatever. Sloths are cool.

I’ll probably never break into the Evanston Surfing Club (a tight-knit group of 8 to 10 men and so maybe not such a good idea). But the few hours I spent bobbing in the big ocean were entirely worth making a little bit of a fool of myself, even considering that time a giant wave snuck up on me, sucking me into its saline washing machine where I tumbled around for what felt like forever.

As I drove back from my surfing attempts with my family, we listened to Island Radio 89.9, playing old-school Hawaiian music influenced by Jamaican style reggae and middle-school era R&B (”ooh baby it’s just you and me, let’s make tonight a re-al-ity”). Reflection music for sure. So I thought about how easy it is to get caught up in disappointments and imperfections — yeah, I kind of suck at surfing, I tan unevenly no matter how valiant my efforts, and I’m still stuck spending my spring breaks with my family, getting lei’d and not laid (breaking all the MTV Spring Break standards). But away from Northwestern and its army of rulers that persistently measure and quantify everything imaginable, all of this falling short is — surprisingly, relievedly — irrelevant.

Northwestern teaches us, or perhaps we teach each other, to constantly strive for concrete achievements and accomplishments, the kind that look nice on your Facebook “employment” section or a real-person resume. If I am ever disappointed with Northwestern, it is when I see things like kids more concerned with how a class looks on their transcript that what they are learning, or obsessing over a particular problem on an exam that they might have accidentally done wrong — so caught up in details that they don’t appreciate how lovely the Lake Michigan is at sunset, or what good people their friends are. When you’re so focused on the small things, you miss the whole point. Yes, it’s easy to be oblivious to the big picture here, with our whirlwind storm of opportunities and obligations, but it’s the biggest mistake you can make.

For me, it took looking through the lens of the slow-paced, family-oriented beach culture of Kauai to see the superficiality of the numbers we attach to everything here. Think about it: you can’t write an essay without getting a grade assigned to it, go out to eat without mentally balancing your budget, or use your laptop without reflexively checking how many new notifications you have on Facebook. We might be past comparing our SAT and ACT scores, but we’re still more obsessed than we realize with the numbers and inconsequential details we’ll have forgotten in no time at all. Coming to this understanding was a lot more than I expected to get out of surfing.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter what you did over spring break. Everyone answers the same when asked how their vacation was, anyhow: “It was good, relaxing.” Where you went or what you did is about as irrelevant as all the other numbers and details in the long run. But what you get out of taking a break (or catching a wave) can make all the difference.