Cakes and candles to 2026!
Wow, just like that we are staring at another clean slate. A whole new year full of memories, stories and experiences waiting for us. As for Tufts, I know Tisch is ready for us students to return to the forever-stinky bathroom stalls on the first floor and that the JCC is thrilled for us to continue our never-ending search for tissues.
I’m so excited to be back … wait … I’m not going back to Tufts.
My loyal readers who have been with me since day one know this. But if you are just joining this journey, I will be spending the spring 2026 semester in Barcelona (hence this column’s name change).
I debated a bit on when I wanted to write this piece. I could have waited until I got to Barcelona and written my first column of 2026 after orienting myself in this new world. Instead, I chose to write this before my arrival. I’m currently in O’Hare airport experiencing a three-hour delay (God, I love flying.)
I made this decision after reflecting on this column’s main purpose: to document my (relatively normal) journey experiencing life as a college student at Tufts. Studying abroad is a pretty popular choice for Tufts students, and there are a ton of emotions that come with it. In my opinion, it would be a disservice to this column if I did not write about how I feel before leaving everything I’ve ever known.
Obviously, I am very excited. Ever since I was in high school, people have told me how ‘studying abroad was the best semester of college’ and how it is a ‘once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.’ Studying abroad has been on my mind for more than half a decade. My decision to leave Tufts and go to Barcelona was made almost a year ago. It is very exciting to think that I will be there in a matter of hours — if this airplane ever gets there. (Oh God, here is another announcement over the speakers.)
However, my excitement doesn’t overshadow everything else I am feeling. The anxiety and nervousness are very real. I’m staring at my upcoming semester and have no idea what to expect. I don’t know what my living situation will be, what my academics will look like and I have never experienced the culture, the food or even the weather. It’s very anxiety-provoking to have no idea what my life will be like for the next few months. I haven’t felt this way since my freshman year at Tufts.
With that, I spent some time looking back over my first-year year publications, particularly the yearly reflection and my first article of 2024 (holy unc behavior). Normally, I don’t like to read my past columns because of all the cringe, but this time I made an exception. Maybe reading the words of my freshman year self could give me, a second-semester junior, some advice. And you know what? It did.
At the end of my first year, I talked about how, no matter how stressful or anxious something may seem, everything will be okay. Even though at the beginning of my freshman year I was staring at a mysterious, unknown semester ahead (wondering the same things I am wondering right now in O’Hare), everything turned out okay.
That piece also talked about the beauty of the blank page before us (an “Unwritten” reference). My freshman year self wrote: “Even though the next page is blank, I know that it will be filled with unforgettable, wonderful memories.”
What’s strange is that even though I have changed so much since my freshman year, the feeling is exactly the same. That same mix of excitement and fear. That same pit in my stomach when I don’t have a map for what’s ahead. Back then, I didn’t know what being a college student was like. Now, I don’t know how to be a student halfway across the world. And yet, both versions of me have stood in this place: on the edge of something unfamiliar, hoping that growth and unforgettable memories live on the other side of uncertainty.
Not everyone is studying abroad this semester, but you don’t need to be halfway across the world to have this feeling or be standing on the edge of something new. Blank pages exist everywhere: a new class, a new role, a new version of yourself. As we step into 2026, let’s allow ourselves to feel uncomfortable in the unknown instead of fearing it. To ultimately trust that uncertainty doesn’t mean that we’re lost — it means we’re growing, no matter how old we are. Whether your semester takes place abroad or back in those stinky Tisch bathrooms, our goal shouldn’t be to have everything figured out, but to step forward anyway and trust that the empty page ahead will fill itself in.
Feeling the rain on my skin,
Ben Rachel
