I will be walking through the gates of Harvard for the final time as an undergraduate student this December, passing beneath the words on Dexter Gate that fervently remind us to “Depart to serve better thy country and thy kind.”

At one point in my life, particularly while serving in the United States Army, the idea of “Harvard” remained a fictitious illusion that only appeared in the biographies of past American presidents or in movies such as Legally Blonde. However, over the last several years, I have had the honor of referring to Harvard as my home.

As a military veteran living amongst this inimitable community, here are five enduring truths I have come to understand:

1. Wearing the uniform may have made you into who you are, but the uniform doesn’t define who you are.

The military has an outlandish way of ridding yourself of your personal identity and remolding you in Uncle Sam’s image. Minutes after you arrive at basic training, Drill Sergeants herd you into a makeshift barbershop where your head is shaved to appear identical with everyone else – the piles of hair evoking a graveyard of individualism. Your favorite Nike shirt, still carrying the faint scent of your mother’s perfume from saying goodbye the day before, is exchanged for a set of green fatigues. I was no longer Quinn, but instead “Private Ewanchyna”. When I think back to who I was before I chose to serve, my past character is unrecognizable to who I am now. The military instilled a sense of fortitude, leadership, stoic discipline, and selflessness within me that I still carry to this day. However, even the trees which line Harvard Yard began as mere seeds. In other words, the military doesn’t create who you are today out of nothing, but rather accentuates intrinsic characteristics that already existed. While wearing the uniform may have served as the catalyst for the professional you see in the mirror today, it doesn’t determine who you are, or what you can be. Rather, the uniform is simply one shade of your identity’s palette.

2. It's only weird if you make it weird.

On the outside, I don’t necessarily align with the stereotypical Gen Z Harvard student. I’m covered in tattoos, and my back begins to spasm when I sit at a desk for too long. Most of the other students think that I’m the Head TF (Head Teaching Fellow) when I show up to office hours, leading me to believe that the youthful spark that once existed within my eyes has now faded to a subdued flicker. Thus, whenever I tell someone that I’m an undergraduate student at Harvard, the question that inevitably follows is, “Woah! Is that weird?” Not in the slightest. When I arrived on campus in the fall of 2022, my utmost priority was to immerse myself as much as possible within Harvard’s expansive extracurricular life, which makes it so unique. And because of this, I’ve learned that many of life’s opportunities stem from our willingness to step beyond the façade of the status quo that society places upon us. I once scored a “try” during my first rugby match, despite hardly knowing the rules of the sport. I have led tastings as President of the Wine Society. I once attended a debate competition and failed miserably. I produced an award-winning research project last year. So no – it’s not weird. But limiting yourself is.

3. Slow is smooth. Smooth is fast.

I often refer to Cambridge as the most densely populated enclave of the world’s brightest minds, and for good reason. You’re surrounded by students who can complete a PSET in a quarter of the time that it takes you. And as far as I’m concerned, that’s okay. For the overwhelming majority of veterans reentering the cryptic realm of higher education, the last time we heard the term “polynomial function” was probably when Obama was President. Slow down, take a deep breath as you sail upon uncharted waters, and focus on your own individual pace. Slow is smooth. And smooth is fast.

4. You will fall, and you will fail.

As a machine gunner in our platoon’s Weapons Squad, our motto was “The standard is perfection.” In other words, perfection isn’t the goal you strive to attain, but rather the bare minimum you expect to achieve. While I attribute the majority of my successes to this mantra – which I still hold dearly to this day – it’s a double-edged sword. When you hold yourself to such a level of perfection, you’ll quickly find yourself lying awake at 3:00 a.m., mentally replaying that time you courageously decided to speak up during section, and the words just didn’t quite flow the way you wanted. In reality, failure is a fact of life, but it’s also subjective. What truly matters is how you respond to it, and whether you use that experience to rise above your perceived potential or instead fall victim to the idea of “failure” that you have artificially created.

5. Just like those you served alongside, your greatest assets will be your peers.

I’ve sat in classrooms as the world’s leading economists stood before me, expanding upon theories which earned them Nobel Prizes. However, whenever someone asks what I feel to be the most valuable component of my Harvard education, I immediately respond with, “My peers.” Late-night conversations in Cabot Library debating the intersection of AI and consciousness, held over a lukewarm Jefe’s burrito, have imparted more knowledge than the walls of a lecture hall ever could. Their stories, ideas, and perspectives that have shaped who they are and the lens through which they view the world have inspired me to achieve more in this world. Whether I had the ability to speak with someone for five minutes or instead five hours working on a consulting case study, I remain certain that the memories I have created alongside my peers at Harvard will follow me for the remainder of my life.