Authorship Over Our College Experience: Choosing to Reflect Positively Despite Hardships

Chancellor Schwartz, Members of the Board, Faculty, Family, Friends, and of course, The Class of 2024,

Sholem Aleichem, author of the most enduring works of modern Jewish fiction, wrote of a town called Kasrilevke, which has been described as “an idealized town of ‘little Jews’ who met their misfortunes with humor and the ultimate belief in justice.” Today, Kasrilevke has become the archetype of the shtetl that we know in popular culture—those funky, old-world places where Jews faced indescribable hardships, but, somehow, maintained an intense commitment to Jewish practice and a just-as-intense commitment to town gossip.

In a way—I’ve realized that our college experience is Kasrilevke.

For those of you who aren’t aware, this is possibly the first—and only—time the List College Class of 2024 will ever be in the same room all at once. Our student journeys began behind computer cameras from across the globe. Most of our college “firsts” came in the form of emails and Zoom meetings as substitutes for the college experiences we were supposed to have. And now, as we look back at our final days on campus, we saw our last class meetings moved to Zoom and our final-final exams turned remote. For the past couple of months, we saw division and distrust weaken the campus community we’ve worked so hard to build. In short, we have had anything but the college experience we grew up dreaming about.

And yet, when I look back at my time here in JTS and Columbia, I don’t intend to dwell on the parts of it that weren’t ideal. I intend to look back on the incredible classes and professors I learned from; the Jewish plays I read; the formals, picnics, and popups I attended; the three a.m. mozzarella sticks from dining halls; and the lifelong friendships I made with my peers. And, you know, the whole getting-two-degree-at-once thing.

If Jewish literature has taught me anything, it’s that life doesn’t wait for the ugly chapters to end before transitioning into the happy ones—it tasks the authors with choosing what parts of the story are worth highlighting. Kasrilevke was a town where people couldn’t afford to eat, and regular pogroms would decimate the population. And yet, we remember it for its joy, lighthearted mischief, and rumor mill.

To the List College Class of 2024, I charge you to always commit yourself to see the world for its positivity, despite circumstances that might arise. We are not “The-Covid-Class” or “The-Israel-Hamas-War-Class” unless we allow ourselves to be. We are some of the best and brightest people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, and our resiliency is a testament to our potential. Congratulations to the Class of 2024: (somehow) we did it!