Freshmen, I just want to say one word to you — just one word: ‘two-year plans.’ There’s a great future in two-year plans. Think about it. I will concede that ‘two-year plans’ is in fact three words, but the point is still there.
Albeit less exciting than “plastics” (if the above reference is not clear, I have a tendency to cite life advice from The Graduate), two-year plans are a healthy alternative to Cornell’s all-too-common ten-year plan syndrome.
I all too frequently find myself in discussions that revolve around the painfully careful execution of post-collegiate decisions. Cornellians have bowed to an omnipresent pressure to conquer our 20s in order to live a fruitful 30s.
Conversations between friends can include discussions of careful planning for law school, graduate school, fellowships, internships — the list is endless — and address the same question: how am I going to best set myself up for what I actually want to do with my life? Whether the planning is subconscious or entirely deliberate, the result for many is an overwhelming sense or responsibility to vigilantly follow a pre-determined path towards a specific destination. So, what I will call ten-year plan syndrome creates an undue amount of stress for those students so earnestly dedicated to the trajectory of their early adult life.
Ten-year plan syndrome tends to infect students on a sliding scale. Sure, there are some students who come to Cornell knowing exactly where they want to take their lives. There are others who revel in the exhilarating unknown. Yet the majority of us fall somewhere in between: committed to a certain goal and confident that a sequence of decisions will ultimately bring us to that destination.
Such planning and preoccupation with post graduate degrees and “previous work experience” comes at the expense of many other aspects of our lives. How often do we consider ten-year plans for our personal relationships? Do we ever take into account the health and longevity of our friendships as drivers for our long-term goals? These days, interpersonal fundamentals take a back seat when it comes to many initial life decisions.
Perhaps ten-year plans fit into the broader pattern of Americans “starting life later.” According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the average age for women to marry in New York State has reached 27. Such a statistic could suggest that many are focusing on living a more individualistic 20s in order to ‘better frame’ their 30s.
Someone once told me to look at my life in terms of intervals, and I would recommend that you, freshmen, frame each interval in the narrowest way possible. Consider, what can I do with the next two years? Enter: Temel’s Theory on Two-Year Plans. Reducing the frame of measurement increases the likeliness of encountering an opportunity entirely unforeseen yet no less extraordinary. Taking a step back to evaluate the possibilities within two years compared to those within a decade can hopefully shed light on the unnecessary pressure to live up to disproportionately self-created expectations. As young adults we should continuously be asking ourselves how we can use our current strengths to challenge ourselves in the immediate future. And more importantly, how can we get involved in what actually matters to us now?
As someone who has devoted much of my undergraduate career to planning ahead, I have only recently recognized the importance of taking my 20s one step at a time. In college, our generation’s quest for professional and personal fulfillment in any capacity can become a vortex of human emotions, and it is quite difficult to avoid being sucked in. The majority of this incoming freshman class probably has some version of a ten-year plan, too —whether want to become the next Thomas Friedman or the next Tom Ford.
Long term goals are good. They give you things to look forward to that often align with your true passion. Within my lifetime, I would like to work in the Executive Branch, and perhaps finally learn to snap my fingers. But my hope is that a shift in focus away from ten-year plans will relieve the burden of plentiful 20s and simply leave me with a more satisfying 2009.
Laura Temel is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be reached at let9@cornell.edu [1]. Her column will appear biweekly this semester.
Links:
[1] mailto:let9@cornell.edu