Laura Hegarty | Contributing Writer
Remember when the beauty of summertime was doing nothing? At the age of 8 years old, when that final bell rang at 12.30pm on May 30th, we walked out of our establishment of first-level education with the pride that comes only from being the masters of our own time for the infinite ‘summer’. The idea of having total freedom was nothing less than thrilling. No plans were made. Each morning a different mission was undertaken and each evening its successes and failures evaluated. Mine generally comprised the capturing of insects for pets leading to their death from asphyxiation.* I wasn’t allowed a dog.
That is a freedom which we left at the (however damaged) front arch in our first freshers’ week at Trinity College Dublin, or Trinity Dublin City University Belfield, or whatever name it is currently operating under.
I remember the first time it happened to me. I wasn’t prepared. I was foolish and reeked of fresher. Sitting unsuspecting in KC Peaches when the bomb landed, the offensive camp being a fellow first year law student.
“What are you doing with your summer?”
Her eyes narrowed in what clearly a challenge. They met mine and searched for weakness. I hesitated, before answering ‘I… I am not sure’. She leant back in victory.
I had shown my soft belly, and had learnt a valuable life lesson. One must always do something with one’s summer. In truth, I had intended to spend it doing laps of Navan shopping centre and going to the social haven that is the Palace in Navan at weekends. I didn’t realise that my summer should have a purpose. But that it should. A summer without another notch on the CV was not a summer at all. Long gone were the days of insect-hunting and (non) preservation.
I should have gone for something along the lines of “I’m thinking of volunteering in Asia maybe, or backpacking around South America”. These are valuable life experiences. They show ‘an interest in new cultures’, ‘a thirst for discovery’, that one is a ‘well-rounded individual’. A J1 is always a good bet: it shows one’s ability to squash the equivalent of a football team into one small box room.
This is a question that my friends from home cannot understand: in Navan, such is the delay in social evolution, that we are still enjoying the freedom of summer, albeit minus the insect farming. “What are you doing with your summer?” I asked my Navan friends tentatively that weekend. They looked at each other in confusion, and I realised I was not the only one in the dark.
Worst of all are the months leading up to the summer before final year. Our last chance. Our last hope. If we did not pick up some ‘Skills and Interests’, and some vital work experience, we would almost certainly find ourselves destitute and unemployed after the degree.
Internship application period begins, and needless to say, friendships are lost. Applying to various internships, feasible or otherwise, becomes a sport, the aim being to have as many interviews as possible on a weekly basis.
Only in Trinity is ‘to summer’ still a verb. Only here does the idea of summer cause panic. After all, our summers are precious; once we start working we will no longer have our long free summers. Provided we have gathered enough skills and interests to get a job, that is.
*Some insects were harmed in the research for this article.
