If you’re part of the Class of 2025, you’re likely no stranger to the emotional whiplash of dread, anger and anxiety, sometimes punctuated by flickers of hope and anticipation, that has characterized the last few months. Perhaps you’re part of a student research project whose funding was cut. Or, the jobs that once defined your dream career no longer exist. Maybe, like most of us, you’re facing a dauntingly high level of competitiveness for entry-level jobs. In short, the future does not feel bright. I, for one, do not feel limitless career potential. Regardless of what commencement speakers may say, it is objectively a terrible time to graduate from college. So, how can we, as a graduating class, cope with the fact that our plans are being forced to change due to factors beyond our control?
I am graduating with a double major in international relations and civic studies. From the onset, I felt drawn to the dual perspective the coursework offered: International relations focuses on how the world should interact to maximize international prosperity, and civic studies asks how we as a collective community should interact to maximize local prosperity. My concentration is international security, and as I’ve watched the U.S. government teeter between diplomacy and dysfunction, both my anxiety and sense of purpose have become heightened. Unfortunately, many of the jobs I expected to be a starting point for a career in international security have disappeared. The current administration of President Donald Trump has defunded, disbanded or placed hiring freezes on agencies like the United States Agency for International Development. They have derailed pathways to jobs in the State Department. When I subsequently tried to pivot towards a career in civic studies, I was met with a plethora of NGOs who informed me that they now lacked the funds for new hires. I know many of my peers are experiencing similar setbacks in other fields, creating a unique sense of camaraderie among the Class of 2025 over this shared difficult experience.
Over the past few months, my advising conversations with professors have revolved around perspective: How can I navigate the unpredictability of the present while still keeping sight of my long-term goals? Back in December 2024, I envisioned my post-grad self working in a new city, beginning my career. Now, I’ll be starting graduate school this fall. My plans have shifted dramatically, and yet, in the stressful whirlwind of figuring out what comes next, I’ve found joy in the communities I’ve built at Tufts. When job rejections stung and the future felt increasingly uncertain, the spaces I once considered extracurricular became essential. I found solace in rehearsals with the Tufts Symphony Orchestra, conviction in my hot takes for the Daily’s Opinion section and purpose in global conversations with Women in International Relations. These communities reminded me that my worth and potential aren’t measured by a job offer but by the relationships I’ve nurtured and the passions I’ve pursued at school. Graduating into a world of uncertainty has, paradoxically, given me a rare gift: permission to simply be present.
To my peers in the Class of 2025: We can do more than cope, survive or “wait it out.” We can continue to learn in or out of school, participate in civil disobedience, support local businesses, encourage scientific research and choose to be optimistic. I firmly believe we will make time and space for humanity, resistance and a respect for academics in our future. We will create opportunities to reinvent what others have dismantled, and we will be a vital part of that work. We’re graduating into a world that lacks many of the opportunities we awaited as undergraduates, but we can and will be a part of what comes next. Graduating in May 2025 is painfully disillusioning, but instead of taking this time to wallow in the existential dread and uncertainty of current events worldwide, we can use this time to invent our vision of the future that we will have a chance to carry out.
