Isaiah Poritz, former Wheel Editor-in-Chief
I’m writing this far away from the campus I called home for the past four years. In February, I packed my bags and moved from Atlanta to Washington, D.C., to start a new job after graduating in December.
On my second night in the city, I sat down to reflect on what the sudden change meant. Here’s what I wrote:
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I drove for 11 hours yesterday with my dad up the east coast to a new city. We left my apartment near the Emory campus just as the sun was rising and arrived just as it finished setting.
I remember the sun cast a looming, orange warmth across the horizon as we crossed the Potomac river and into the nation’s capital. I was so cold, which was a surprise because I had the misconception that D.C. was part of the South, so it couldn’t be much colder than Atlanta. Wrong there.
I’m not sure if there was ever really a single moment that really hit me. A moment that made me realize that I was leaving my home in Atlanta and starting a new chapter in my life. A completely new chapter.
Sure, leaving high school is a big step. Emory is far from the mountain west where I grew up, and I gained a semblance of independence that I’d never had before. But graduating college and entering the workforce is entirely different. I knew I was going to be at Emory for four years. I have no idea where I’ll be in four years.
I wanted this post-collegiate life. I wanted the hustle and bustle of doing a job I love, meeting new people, exploring a new city. I’m so, so excited to get started.
But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intimidated unpacking last night. Because damn if I don’t miss my friends.
The pandemic stripped the class of 2022 of a real college experience. March 11, 2020 will be seared in my memory for the rest of my life as the day we were told to leave the community we had just found our place in as sophomores.
Since that day, I often felt as though I was in a hurry to move on from college. I know many of you have had similar thoughts. Virtual classes were so exhausting.
I missed that exciting buzz in the basement of the library. I miss meeting friends to study all night knowing full well we were just going to talk for hours and eat overpriced snacks from Peet’s (Remember when it was Peet’s?). I missed standing in line for office hours where you could bounce ideas off of new classmates and find study buddies.
We did our best, but an online community just can’t replicate that feeling of togetherness that defines the college experience.
I’m realizing now that even with that hardship and the hollowed out community, I grew closer to the people that mattered most to me. The pandemic has made us reconsider what we care about and it drove us to hold onto the values that were so often painted over in the past.
I miss my friends because over the past four years, we relished the best of times and somehow, some way, we made it through the worst of times together as well.
Isaiah Poritz is from Salt Lake City, Utah, and served as editor-in-chief of The Emory Wheel. He is currently a legal reporter at Bloomberg Law in Washington, D.C.
