In reality, only the writing of this articlehas forced me to think about the HarvardExperience. Piano lessons stopped after freshmanyear, my addiction to the Crimson and work inChinatown grew, and next year I'll head to WallStreet, again for something different from myself.My story is typical in its self-discovery, ups,downs, and tribute to father Harvard. In words,most can make complex assessments of what the "it"is. Watered down, this experience differs littlefrom life itself. The admissions office's duty isto gather approximately 1500 accomplished youngpeople to form each of Harvard's classes. Nomatter how deliberately we were selected to becomea part of the diversity of the Class of 1986, thisselection was based on achievement. Tangibleachievements won us places here, and expectedly,many of us continued in the quest for such successonce we arrived.
What Harvard couldn't control, was the naturalprocess of our growth outside of achievement. Itprovided stimulants almost at random; the coursecatalog, posters announcing speeches and events,and assigned rooming groups freshman year wereamong Harvard's provision of organizedopportunity. But no one could influence whoultimately became our confidants, what we saw inthe city, or where our bodies decided to take ourminds. Nothing can define our experiences atHarvard except the lives which will become ours.For now, it is almost excessive to try to assesswhy we came, and why we came to what we are.
"So, Ms. Shaw, what do you think investmentbanking really is?"
Who knows? Who could honestly say? Will you belike the people who never quite believed I had theauthority to make decisions at the Crimson andcalled me "dear"? My next two years havestructure. Then what? Something different. Whosays? Harvard says I can, that's who. I thinkabout New York, I think about Seattle. I thinkabout romance. I think good fortune. I think aboutracism. I think about food. I think aboutreligion. I think about feminism. I think aboutgraduation. I think about the Russians. I thinkabout my cat. I think about sexism. I think aboutmusic. I think about my friends. I think about itall, I think.
I have no idea what "it" was, but I wouldn'thave missed it for anything, I wouldn't want tohave been any different. I'm less sure now of whatmy greatest dream is than when I arrived, but I'vegathered many smaller dreams during my stay.Harvard has allowed me to cultivate my love of andability to perform, though now there is no audibleapplause.
"And, Ms. Hsiao, what can you tell me aboutthe Harvard Experience?"
Nothing. Nothing at all. See for yourself.