Regis College - Mount Regis Yearbook (Weston, MA)

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It was early Spring 1982; the young girl hurriedly searched through the stack of envelopes she had pulled from the mailbox. As she turned the key and let herself into the kitchen, her eyes fell on the return address made distinct by a small tower. Dropping the rest of the mail on the table, she concentrated on the one small envelope which pronounced her name in bold black. She tried to remember the warning she had been given; did a thick envelope mean acceptance, and a thin rejection, or was it the other way around? She breathed deeply, opened the envelope and silently read. Carefully placing the letter on the table she breathed a quivering sigh of relief. Acceptance: the word spoke volumes. Gazing out the window she mused; how appropriate that her first step on the uncertain path of her future be taken in Spring. Jus t as Winter’s icy breath seems to have frozen the earth forever. Spring’s warm smile coaxes life anew. This was her Spring: one of many in life’s recurring year. She thought how cruel it all seemed. After four years of struggle, she had constructed a foundation of academic and social security only to be thrown back into the depths of insecurity. The comforting sigh of relief gradually gave way to a torrent of doubt. Did she really want to go to college? Was it merely a cornerstone to which she clung in fear of the unknown? Or had she struck a spark in high school which she sincerely wanted to stir to flame? Doubt and fear sizzled from the pavement as her summer disappeared in a haze. Her apprehension was only intensified by September’s chill. She attempted to warm herself with the knowledge that she had been accepted; that’s what the letter had said. So many smiling faces and helpful hands, even after orientation, there was always a friendly hello, but the letter had said acceptance. She had felt acceptance at home in the security of friends and family; separated from them she felt fragmented. Where she had once stood as part of a group, she was now only apart. All around her were others equally unsure: she could see it in their eyes. So, tightly wrapped in the coat of her own beliefs and expectations, she huddled in with this crowd of strangers, feeling alone yet glad for their sheltering warmth. As some of the faces took on names, her fear and loneliness began to subside. Helping one another struggle with advisors over pre-registration, limited enrollment, and requirements, the crowd drew in, realizing that together their insecure whispers could be heard as one voice. Their individual goals seemed to spring from a common base. The lunch table discussions and after hours debates strengthened the voice growing among them. Dreams were exposed and fears dispelled, and the young girl found that among these strangers, even without the supports of the familiar, she was heard. While the doubts did return at times, she learned to answer them, and she realized that something was growing within her. In May of 1983, Spring’s warm smile again shone on her face and, waving goodbye, she turned away confidently, for she had found her voice. O Right photo. Kim Livingstone 6 Fragmentation

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September of 1983 saw the young woman return to many warm greetings; the crowd once so foreign and cold was now a welcoming alliance. The helpful hands and smiling faces re- mained, but they were now turned toward a new crowd of bright eyes and unsure smiles. The young woman looked over the sea of faces, and then at the mirrored reflection of her own. A year ago she could have been any one of them, but some- thing had changed. At home they said she had grown indepen- dent; she wondered at the word. She certainly didn’t feel that she could stand completely alone, yet the violent need to be surrounded by familiar faces no longer surged within her. She laughed absentmindedly and turned from the mirror. Shout- ing, she enlisted some friends to help with her refrigerator. The scheduling procedure, which a year earlier had seemed infinitely complicated, now seemed fairly simple, except that this year her choices had to be patterned around a major. The familiar surge of fear resurfaced at the thought of selecting a major, and again her future and very life seemed to rest on this one choice. The possibilities were endless, and her abilities vanished at the thought of them. After reading all the class information, checking the requirements, and seeking the ad- vice of the all-knowing upperclasswomen, she valiantly select- ed a major. Almost immediately she feared that she had made a grievous mistake; but again the strength that was growing within her surfaced and verified her choice. Decisions that she previously would have handed to others she now took upon herself, and she found that she could bear their weight as well as their consequences. Joining the procession which leads the graduating seniors to the tower, the young woman realized that her Summer was ending. She shivered at the thought of her fast approaching Autumn but stood firm, fortified by the ever increasing strength within her. The brisk air of September, 1 984 welcomed the young wom- an into her Autumn, and while the crisp air often hurt her lungs, it was also fresh and exhilarating. Having made the decision of a major, she found correlations among subjects between which previously she had seen no connection. She also began an internship which soon became a testing ground for the theories that she had learned in the classroom. Other friends had gone for a semester to study abroad where the foreign cities, rich with culture, added a new dimension to their classroom learning. And, as the class, once a crowd of strang- ers, began to develop diverse interests, they also grew closer to one another by sharing those varied experiences. The young woman laughed at the irony and understood; people are not bound only by similarities, but by the sharing of differences and the integration of those differences into themselves. 8 lntegration