Aanum Khan ’30
Staff Writer
Stepping off the bus to Brimfield, Massachusetts on a Sunday was not easy for me. With about 15 of my peers, I ventured into rural New England on an Interdisciplinary Science Program (ISP) field trip, a bit annoyed and sleep-deprived. Why were we one of the only classes to meet on a Sunday? Why must we go to a farm, of all places? How was that even related to our Gateway program on science and society? What even was this filler activity nonsense?
Somewhere between the bus ride spent gazing at the picturesque landscape and the small moments watching a classmate play with chickens, my frustration gave way to joy. A Sunday previously regarded as “wasted” became a Sunday of storytelling and scientific inspiration. All this from a short weekend trip spent walking, eating baked potatoes and laughing with my friends.
At Trinity, it is easy to become a creature of habit—and that’s a good thing. It’s good for your academic world to be manageable. It’s good to have a predictable, enjoyable schedule. As a first-year, I strived to create a routine, one that fostered good grades and quality time with friends.
Thus far it has looked something like this: class, food, clubs, hangout, sleep (sleep has become a frequently compromised part of this routine, though, that’s another opinion article). Such a routine was infinitely reproducible and infinitely easy. Stick to the routine, and one will thrive. It becomes second nature. Robotic, even.
But what happens when you break a routine? What happens when a Sunday of unorthodox learning reignites motivation, forms deeper connections with your classmates and serves as an opportunity to appreciate the wonderful world waiting for us after Trinity? Is such an exploration—even if it doesn’t seem perfectly related—a waste of time?
I say it absolutely is not. Trinity College is a liberal arts institution, which means that we thrive when asking the unorthodox questions and nurturing curiosity in any way possible. That curiosity does not only exist in a classroom. That world of learning is not confined only to PowerPoints. Field trips disrupt the monotony of college life and force us out of our comfort zones. They force us to connect with our peers—one of the main perks of going to a small liberal arts institution—and learn from each other’s diverse experiences. Some of us had never seen the leaves change in autumn, and some of us would have never learnt such facts about our peers. Leaving campus and entering a hands-on world fosters student interpersonal growth along with intellectual curiosity.
From Professor Alison Draper, my Gateway professor, I learned that Trinity Days used to be Trinity Week, where students went on immersive field trips for their classes, allowing for students to connect with material beyond the textbook. These moments served as an opportunity not to leave Trinity’s community but to better connect with it. In its current iteration, Trinity Days serve as an escape from campus. Our peers venture off to big cities and beach towns, napping well past the AM hours. While Trinity Days do serve as an opportunity to recharge, they also splinter our community in those times. Dorms are emptier. Dining hall booths are finally available. The work of re-motivation occurs off-campus, away from peers, with respite predicated on being away from your on-campus support systems.
To fuse the fun of no sit-down lecture-style classes with the intellectual curiosity of a liberal arts education, we must go all-in on co-curricular activities. Bringing back Trinity Week would serve as an opportunity to reconnect with our peers, recommit ourselves to intellectualism and create new memories. Trinity Week would not be another vacation but an opportunity to break habits that stifle our passions. Broadening the scope of learning to be beyond the classroom during Trinity Week does not sacrifice academics or restfulness. It means making room for the unexpected. After all, the best memories are the ones you would have never seen coming.