One of the many Boarding School rules that I despised at the time but now look back at nostalgically was a 45-minute phone time. So with nothing else to do, our suitemates would gather together after “lights-out” and just talk. Sometimes it would be consoling a friend coming out of a bad break-up, and other times it’d be a serious debate on the merits of Latin honors. Whatever the topic, these conversations were always compassionate, spirited, and a source of familial support.
This camaraderie also made studying with friends profoundly different. My Indian family was always relentless in reminding me to “Forget joy for four years” because delaying gratification was the only way to find “permanent security.” Apparently, in our divine meritocracy, College is just one step on the continual stairway of advancement. I couldn’t disagree more with this notion that an education is simply a means to an end.
But, as I studied with my best friends in our hostel, learning and fun were never antithetical ideas. Nights reserved for calculus were always accompanied by ping-pong sessions, but we never intended to sabotage each other in a futile race to the top. Ours was a collaborative family, where instead of selfish opportunity costs, we were driven by brotherly love. No accolade could beat this feeling of security and finding a home — away from home.
At Rice, to build that sense of family, I want to create a discussion group—Night Owls—to gather at night and ponder both the grandiose and whimsical philosophical questions over hot chocolate. Think of these events as a modern version of the infamous Greek Symposia, just without the booze. This combination of conversation, whimsy, and intellectual inquiry is what I want from college. It doesn’t sound very prudential, but it’s surely poetic.