4 years, 4 lessons

IU wasn’t my first choice.

When I was in high school in Indianapolis, I wanted to get away. I don’t know why I thought I could afford it.

My father had been laid off and my mother was having trouble finding work, so any small amount of financial help they could have given me was needed to pay the mortgage and keep the electricity on.

So, with the help of an academic scholarship and some hefty student loans, I reluctantly ended up here.

My four years have been wonderful and awful and memorable.

Although my English degree is the butt of business majors’ jokes, I’m confident about my future.

I’ve worked my way through school as a lifeguard, bike shop employee, peewee soccer referee, editor and promo girl, among other odd jobs. If there’s anything I’ve developed at IU, it’s a strong work ethic.

But even with a degree (soon-to-be) under my belt, the most important knowledge that I’ve gained while here hasn’t been academic.

I’m thankful to IU for this knowledge.

I’m not thanking the institution or the administrators. I’m thanking the people here, good and bad and everyone in between, for teaching me some important stuff about how life works.

I definitely don’t have my proverbial shit together (do any of us, really?), so I have no right to lecture you on how to live.

But I will share the most significant lessons I’ve learned, in chronological order, in case you want to compare notes.


People want to be happy

When you’re young, things seem so black and white. People are either with you or against you.

This isn’t true. People are with themselves.

Every single person makes decisions based upon what they think will make them happiest. This doesn’t imply selfishness — some people are happy seeing others happy.

When you realize everyone is pursuing their own contentedness, just like you are, it makes it easier understand their motivations.

I don’t want to get too deep, but in a way, happiness is the meaning of life. This is poignantly obvious to me as I struggle with depression.

Everyone is chasing that happy feeling.

Sometimes we just get in one another’s way.


Mean isn’t funny

Let me be blunt: mean humor is the last defense of assholes.

And no matter what people say, at the end of the day, no one loves an asshole. Shit comes out of an asshole, and no one wants to be around a shitty person all the time.

Humor is great. But laughing at the cost of someone else taints it.

The defense that something is/was “all in good fun” is pretty synonymous with the stupid decisions we make in college, and I’m sure we’ve all used it — I know I have.

If something is truly funny, you shouldn’t have to justify your humor, or victimize someone else.

Whether it’s yelling at passerby, having terribly-themed parties or harassing your friends or peers, using humor as a weapon isn’t cool. We’re not in high school anymore, and no one actually likes a bully.

And here’s a sub-lesson. I used to think, if someone was obviously making fun of me in a way I didn’t quite understand, I was at fault for not “getting it.”

If someone has so much bile that they can’t even coherently express it, they’re the one with the problem, not you.


It’s bigger than you

In the grand scheme of life, I don’t matter. Neither do you.

We’re just some young kids getting decent degrees in a mid-sized Midwestern town.

I’m happy with the fact that my life isn’t that important.

It’s helped me in a lot of ways. It’s a lot easier to let go of the drama of being a young adult.

But we can matter.

I’ve found that the people who speak out most vocally against change are the ones afraid of it.

I’ve been told to stop writing, to stop trying, to shut up, time and time again.

I’m always astounded at these reactions — I’m just a columnist at a student paper. My writing isn’t that big of a deal.

But the reactions I’ve gotten, and that the strikers got for their efforts, and the incredibly amount of money IU Dance Marathon raises every year for Riley, and the huge effort to find Lauren Spierer, and all of the other incredible things students here have done, have all convinced me that, although life is so much bigger than our little IU bubble, we can matter.

If we choose to, and we work for it, we can begin to affect positive change.

Life is so much bigger than us, but good things start small. Whatever you’re doing, or supporting, you’re a small part of a bigger movement. And that’s OK.

If we all just gave in when people told us to pipe down, nothing would ever get done.


Kindness always wins

This is, by far, the most important thing I’ve learned.

People will argue with it. They’ll point out wars and terrible people in power and injustices all around the world.

Maybe kindness doesn’t gain you power, but it does gain you happiness. And if finding happiness is the general goal of most of humanity, then the kindest people are arguably the best off.

If given a choice, people will be kind, because being kind feels good. It feels cleaner, lighter, better than cruelty.

Even though I may have occasional doubts about the moral fiber of my generation (again, myself included), I’m firmly convinced humanity, as a whole, is good. Most people would rather not hurt other people.

I can’t count the acts of kindness that have helped me here.

There were understanding professors who cared about their students’ well-being, emails of support in response to my more difficult columns, doors held open, rides given, smiles from strangers and a million other little things that made the mundane difficulties of daily life better for me, and for all of us.

After four years and many mistakes, I’ve found being kind makes me the happiest and gets me the furthest.

I’m not encouraging letting people walk all over you.

I’m just saying my most rewarding experiences have always come from showing some compassion and being willing to just be nice, without expecting anything in return.

Your reward is feeling good about yourself, and about humanity, and about our future and capacity for good.  

For us Millennials adrift on a sea of uncertainty, growing up in an increasingly violent and desperate world, that reassurance is important.

Honestly, I can’t really remember a lot of the academic knowledge I’ve crammed into my skull while here.

But I’ll always remember these four lessons.

­— kelfritz@indiana.edu