Peter Pan Syndrome

I’m not sure how this is possible, but the summer has already come to an end…and we are going back to St Andrews to start our final year of undergraduate studies. It’s thrilling, yet what is this feeling of dread/anticipation/excitement/happiness/fear/and just pure, nerve-wrecking, soul-shacking sense of time passing by too quickly? Is the horizontal rain hitting me too hard on the head as I step off the airplane at Edinburgh airport, or is everyone else feeling it too? Yep, I thought so.

Of all the St Andrews syndromes I’ve experienced during the past three years, I have to say Peter Pan syndrome is perhaps the one that I suffer from the most. As the time for graduation approaches, an alluring, yet slightly ominous, stretch of water extends before us, an ocean called ‘reality’, in which we have shyly been dipping our toes, but which we are definitely not prepared to dive into. At least, I feel rather unprepared.

It is also the idea that once we’re done here we need to pack up and start all over again somewhere else. To me, that is reasonable grounds to feel slightly apprehensive, especially when I have friends that come from more countries that I can count on both of my hands. And yes, it is exciting, we have all had our fair share of the bubble for four or five years, and we are e-ager to cut the cord. After all, growing up means learning to be by yourself—but that is the beauty of Peter Pan syndrome, you know what you should be doing, as a grown up, but you just let the knowledge be and go back to the comfort of divine immaturity.

Coming to university was, to me, the moment of truth, the threshold one crosses before walking into the realm of adulthood. Why haven’t they taught me how to do this in four years? I feel as unprepared as a deer, drinking from a pond, about to be eaten by an alligator. Not a great feeling, agreed?

The truth of the matter is, nevertheless, that we all do have plans, we just can’t measure how achievable or unachievable these are. It is safe to say that St Andrews has the effect of distorting many of our perceptions: of course we think we can afford the Masters in Oxford, and that London will have all the answers, and that while travelling the world or teaching English in Burundi we will find our true calling. I think I am not alone in feeling fortunate for attending a university that opens so many doors to its students, but I often wonder what the real prospects for the graduating class of 2013 everywhere else is…is it actually safe to assume things will just work out, somehow?

I guess right now it is a bit too early to be worrying about the future: after all we still have a few months ahead of us before taking the big plunge. Not before sprinkling our clothes with some fairy dust, that is…