I'd love to take this whole column and expound on Elton Brand's and Will Avery's early departures for the NBA, but I doubt there's anything that hasn't been said already. I can't say I'm exactly happy about that, but at the same time, it would be rather quixotic of me to expect Duke basketball to remain a static entity when in the course of the past four years, Duke itself, my friends, my family, and the rest of the world-not to mention yours truly-have all moved on.
In the past four years, I've seen two new varsity teams created, one of which has entered the national elite, not to mention a new athletic director, a new football coach and a handful of new assistant basketball coaches. In my many walks toward Cameron Indoor Stadium, I've watched part of a parking lot slowly turn into what will hopefully be a top-notch athletic facility someday.
Outside our athletic venues, I've seen three different eateries in the lower level of the Bryan Center where the Burger King used to be. The campus housing policy has changed every year, for no other apparent reason than to confuse the people who live here. And I'm not even going to count how many various efforts to implement-or circumvent-the alcohol policy I've witnessed.
More importantly, I've seen the university community address vital questions of equity, both between races and between other social groups on campus. There are more events designed to bring all of Duke together, more things for independents to do on a Friday night, and that's a good thing. I've seen passionate students bend the will of not only the university but also of a major national corporation, and even though I never did more than sign a few petitions here and there, I'm damn proud of them.
And then there's the rest of the world. The past four years have brought a harrowing, seemingly never-ending ethnic conflict in Yugoslavia, a tobacco industry that caused innumerable wrongful deaths and fostered addiction and illness brought to justice, a computer giant struggling to hold onto its reign and a financial crisis half a world away. In the fall of my freshman year, a retired football player was acquitted of murder. During the spring of my senior year, it was the President of the United States who was acquitted, on charges of perjury and obstruction of justice.
Michael Jordan, the only former UNC basketball player I don't hate, retired after a storied basketball career. After a 41-year drought, the Detroit Red Wings, my home team, won not one but two Stanley Cups. Grunge gave way to Lilith Fair, and teen movies resurfaced in pop culture.
I'm not the same person I was four years ago either. When I arrived on campus two weeks before freshman move-in to go backpacking with a bunch of other incoming freshmen, some of whom I'm proud to call my friends today, I was shy and nervous yet simultaneously eager to start a new life in a new part of the country and drop the "nerd" and "goody-two-shoes" labels I had been saddled with throughout my childhood. I think-and hope-I've succeeded.
Since then, I've learned a lot about myself, and most of that learning has not taken place in any classroom. I discovered the joy of conquering a fear, the rush that comes from truly challenging myself, the kind of happiness that can't come from any quantity of money or material things. I figured out what I wanted to do with my life, too. Somewhere along the way, the little girl who wanted to be the best surgeon ever decided she'd rather work to cure the ills that plague society.
But I think the most important lesson I've learned is that no matter what seems to be going wrong, there's always some reason to be happy. I have too many good things in my life-a loving family, supportive friends, a place in one of our nations' best universities and a promising future-to spend that life complaining.
I did a good portion of that learning right where I'm sitting as I type this column, in the Chronicle office. Coming in as a rookie sportswriter my sophomore year, with no journalism experience whatsoever, I barely had the courage to say "boo" to coaches, athletes and even my senior reporters. Three years later I leave this office unafraid to say anything to anyone.
Writing played a huge role in teaching me that I was more interested in people and societies than in molecules, and that I wanted to pursue a career more verbally oriented than one which consisted largely of operating on unconscious patients. In 301 Flowers I found a place where I could always express my opinions without having them discounted and where at almost any hour of the day, I could find someone with a smile, a friendly conversation, and, if I needed it, a sympathetic ear for me.
Now that I'm leaving The Chronicle behind to head for law school, I'm realizing just how much I'm going to miss it, and how much I'm going to miss journalism in general. This place has made me who I am, and when I go, I'll leave a part of me behind. Wherever my life takes me, whatever I do, a part of me will always be a writer. But at the same time, a new world, a more exciting city than Durham, a career in law and, ultimately, my ambitions for political office call me. The world's moved on, and so have I.
Yvonne Krywyj is a Trinity senior and assistant sports editor of The Chronicle.
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