The Crimson has published many an op-ed urging students to venture outside the infamous Harvard Bubble. Go into Boston and walk the Freedom Trail or stretch out on the lawn of the Common. Maybe simply stroll a mile up Massachusetts Avenue into Central Square or a few blocks farther to grab some Toscanini’s burnt caramel gelato. But how often do we follow up on those suggestions? Time is money, especially during recruiting season, and it’s tough to carve out three hours for a movie at Lowe’s.
Living in the Quad, my Harvard escape hatch comes without T charge. The oft-decried distance between the Quad and the Yard is emotional as well as physical: The Quad represents a separate sphere from the rest of school, a relaxing one filled with food, and friendship—two of my favorite things. Heading to my room at the end of the day feels like going home. It feels like leaving behind a stressful day and returning to a dorm of my own.
The neighborhood surrounding the Quad, too, gives me a taste of the real Cambridge. Not a single house on my walk up Huron Avenue toward Fresh Pond doubles as the Office of Student Something. And when I meander nearby streets, I cross paths with native Cantabrigians, most of whom—believe it or not—have no affiliation with Harvard at all. A little break from the Harvardians I see in lecture halls and trekking up Plympton Street, as much as I love them, certainly does not hurt.
Even the walk from Cabot to the Crimson building comes as a boon rather than a burden. It’s often hard to remember every busy day—as we rush from class to the dining hall to class again to meeting after meeting—to stop, breathe, and think. A quiet, solitary 15 minutes can allow one’s mind a break from problem sets or essays or columns due tomorrow, a chance to muse on how the trees look and how air feels and life goes. That chance comes built into my schedule.
I’m sure people will scorn the Quad as long as I’m here at Harvard. I’d urge everyone to trek out here and see the truth for him or herself, but I don’t expect many visitors till next Housing Day forces a few our way. And maybe that’s for the best. Maybe it wouldn’t be as special if everyone coveted it. As it is, however, I’m happy here. If you see a tree, polar bear, or—best of all—a cod in your room next week, I think you will be, too.
Semper cor, and Semper Quad.
Molly L. Roberts, a Crimson editorial executive, is an English concentrator in Cabot House. Her column appears on alternate Fridays.