Reflections from a Second-Year MBA Candidate
By Jacob Ashley
Many of us, whether from across seas or simply over a river or two, count on classmates, cohorts, or extracurriculars for a sense of belonging or even being. There’s something about sharing ideas, space, or even trials and tribulations that brings us together in a sense of oneness. Nothing feels quite so remarkable as congratulating each other on success or perseverance—except perhaps crying it out together over an impending deadline. I mean, if sharing is caring, I’ve got enough stress to go around, and it’s just now reaching the dreaded realm of midterms, and that’s not even the final boss. Regardless of the situation, it just hits differently, surrounded by those we can vibe with.
Every single day this term has felt alive. Individuals and groups dedicated to their work fill every corner of The School of Business in the Karl Miller Center. For once, it takes me some minutes to find a comfortable spot, forcing me to explore new places on floors I’ve rarely visited. And that’s a good thing. Rarely do I pass the Bloomberg Lab during day hours and not see someone in it, and I can see from here a study room with a group video conferencing a remote member. The rows feel fuller every evening in my MBA classes. I’ve been fortunate to meet new transfers, affording me even greater diversity in groups and teams—a priceless currency, learning from others and sharing in their stories.
Voices again ring through the atrium as inquisitive minds hustle and bustle to and fro. Today, fall’s rain races down the windows of offices and classrooms so often found empty these last few years, and, at last, I finally feel a form of togetherness. One I’ve yet been able to find in our village of a city wrought by cabin fever. Here, I feel a form of magic as multiple languages fill the air. Working on this very writing piece, I find there is so much to be inspired by.
I consider myself an ambivert. These last several years of solitude weren’t the worst for me. Still, the slow reawakening of this sleepy city and its usual vibrancy in arts and community have been difficult indeed. And it’s always made worse during the routinely rain-driven drudgery and the hibernatory nature of our seemingly endless months of grey. But honestly, I’ve learned to find comfort in my aloneness, at least when necessary. Who knew you could find so much room for activities when trapped in perpetual quarantines? Am I right? I digress.
Summer is great. Even though we grown-ups rarely get a “summer break,” there often comes a sense of relaxation. The city seems so vast when the perfect Pacific Northwest weather enters the chat those few months out of the year. But fall forever holds my heart. There’s something about the crisp air, golden leaves, perennial blooms, apple cider, and the Halloween-themed spooky nature of everything. Yes, I’ve even been known to partake in a pumpkin-spiced something or other in my time. I think I could reside in fall forever if only it didn’t take away the longing and, thus, the special feeling every single time I rescue my parkas and sweaters from the deepest recesses of my hall closet.
Fall term brings its own wonder as new students from everywhere move in and find comfort. Little bits of excitement with a dose of anxiety are just enough to forge a life’s worth of memories. We’re only here a few short years, but we’ll never forget the friends we made during first impressions, the professors who first welcomed us here, and countless events where we networked ourselves to free coffee or pizza. This term, we’ve already had career fairs, visits from employers like Nike and the City of Portland, the Fall Community Forum, a First-Generation Professionals Panel, a host of meet and greets, and so much more—a wholly packed calendar, and one that gives me so much hope for this upcoming year.
I write this love letter to fall, not only to share my mushy feelings for scary movies or the smell of fresh rain. Nor is it to admit my distracted people-watching when I should be studying (though my deficit of attention is sometimes embarrassing). With all our hard work getting to and remaining here, sometimes it’s necessary to take a deep breath and reflect on all the wonder around us. We live in uncertain times. Tomorrow may look nothing like today, and to be perfectly honest, I barely recognize yesterday. But right now, where we are, what we’re all doing, we’re doing it together. And that in itself is truly something special.
Happy Fall Term 2023, everyone.
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