Like many other Stanford students, once you get me started, I have a strong opinion about many things. Yet, in everyday life, there are several questions to which my answer can be unexpectedly impartial. What do you feel like eating? Which movie do you want to see? What do you want to do now? Any of the above. No preference. I don’t know, and I don’t care.
During the last week, I had one of those glorious spring-quarter days that reminded me all over again why I love being at Stanford. The sky shone a brilliant blue, I felt myself surrounded by great people, I biked across campus after class feeling exuberant about what I had learned and what I had yet to do. Why would I ever want to leave this place?
I’m going to begin this column with a confession. Since coming to Stanford, I think that only a handful of days have gone by in which I haven’t talked to some member of my family. Okay, so from my standpoint that wasn’t a confession. It was more of a declaration of fact. Simply put, my family is important to me -- yet I’ve traveled through my time at Stanford observing a range of complex attitudes that college students can have toward their families, particularly parents or parental units.