No, I am not graduating at the end of this year. No, I am not walking. And no, I don’t feel bad about it. To answer any and every question that inevitably accompanies these preliminary questions: No, no, no. No.

“Do you feel like a failure?” No. I made a choice to dive in, swim hard and explore every nook and cranny of this University. I feel far more secure in my decision than some other people I know, people who will be going to top law schools next year, people who will be working at top consulting firms because they didn’t know what else to do with themselves. I feel far more secure in my decision than some other people I know who spent four years drudging from one econ class to another, hating every minute of their undergraduate experience.

I have majored in public policy, German studies, urban studies, civil and environmental engineering, interdisciplinary studies in the humanities and architectural design. After all of that, I will be graduating with a BS in science, technology and society and a minor in German studies. After tasting the bounty of every school at Stanford, I am confident in my choice. It would have been nice to save some cash and figure out my life’s calling a bit sooner, but I’ll graduate supremely passionate about my area of study. How many people get to say that?

“But isn’t your family disappointed?” No. I come from a great family tradition of soul-searching path-finders. My father took eight years to graduate from college. When he did, he finished with a Masters, to boot. He then went on to get the highest grade in eight of his classes at the Stanford School of Medicine (they don’t actually rank their students). Today, 30 years later, my father still loves medicine.

My brother took seven years to graduate. But when he did, he was at the top of his field of study. He is also one of the most content and brilliant people that I know — two qualities that rarely go together. So, no. My family isn’t disappointed. They would have been disappointed if I had chosen a major my freshman year, and stayed blindly devoted to it for four years.

“Don’t you want to move on?” No. From what is there to move on? From Stanford? From the Bay Area? There are people who think that changing locations or jobs will change their lives. I am not one of those people. You change yourself. There is nothing about going to grad school or working at Yahoo! that inherently alters who you are as a person. It is the experiences we accumulate, the things we see and the people we meet, that challenge us to change. A drastic shift in vocation or location is one way for a person to confront things within themselves. But the funny thing about moving on is that you are always you, regardless of where you go or what you do.

The Stanford that I know today is not the Stanford of my freshman year. The fountains do not hold the same allure, nor does a raucous game of sloshball. My Stanford of today is exciting because of the intellect and innovation buzzing all around me. And, yes, perhaps the occasional rounding of the sloshball bases still appears attractive on a fine Saturday afternoon. But, in general, I have moved on from my freshman year self. And a change in location had nothing to do with it.

“So, you think that everyone else is a sucker?” No. I am envious of my friends who have known their life paths since they were 12. My freshman year roommate came to Stanford wanting to be a vet, and will be going to vet school at Penn next year. I feel only appreciative that I know someone who found her life ambition at an early age. The people who I do not understand are the ones who refuse to look for something that makes them happy, and instead settle for something that might make them money.

I understand the need to make money — boy, do I understand the need to make money. But life isn’t a zero-sum game where you’re either making profits or you’re happy. My mom needed a job when she graduated, but she picked nursing because of all the choices it offered her. She could have been a teacher, a lawyer, a...you get the point. Thirty years later, she still works in healthcare. And she also still stays up until 2am, working in her office on projects that she finds interesting. She describes her job as “working in an intellectual candy shop.”

“So, you have all the answers, huh?” No. Of course not. Just like everyone else, I am not sure where I’ll be ten years from now or what I’ll be up to. But, I do know that when I look back on my time at Stanford, I’ll be able to say, “I did it right. I seized every opportunity I could. I drank from the fire hydrant that is Stanford, and I held on until I had savored the very last drop.”

Jackie Bernstein can be contacted at jaber@stanford.edu.