Are we really a Bucknell community? That’s a question that pops up a lot, doesn’t it? On the surface, it seems like we’re all here for the same reason—higher education, great resources and the chance to pay for a degree that’s about to be slightly less impressive than we thought it would be. But if you really dig in, is Bucknell some kind of deep, unified utopia where we’re all here holding hands and discussing philosophy or—let’s be honest—are we just a bunch of people pretending to have it all together while stressing out about midterms?
It’s funny how we like to tell ourselves we’re this tight-knit community. There are the occasional speeches at orientation, all the messages about how we’re “a family,” and those weekly emails that remind us of the power of unity and empathy. But let’s not kid ourselves: at the heart of it, we’ve got more groups than a reality show reunion. Some of us are committed to studying for that big exam, while others are committed to pretending they’re doing something important while secretly wondering if there’s a better place to get coffee. You’ve got the engineering crowd, who can talk about algorithms for hours (and, no, they’re not talking about their feelings), and the artsy people who are probably out there discovering the meaning of life between art history and their latest Netflix binge. Then there are the people who just seem to be everywhere, bouncing between groups like they’re collecting frequent flyer miles. That’s the community we’ve got—one made of little cliques that occasionally share a moment of unplanned unity, like when we’re all crying about the cafeteria’s decision to serve yet another version of chicken fingers for the third time in one week.
It’s not that we don’t try to be inclusive. I mean, we do have a lot of clubs—let’s give ourselves credit where it’s due. But sometimes it feels more like an invitation to another “exclusive club” than an actual chance to build community. Like, sure, it’s great that there’s a book club that reads contemporary fiction, but there’s probably only a handful of us who are actually reading the books (hello, audiobook listeners). Or, there’s that one society where everyone talks about trying to be environmental, but the most sustainable thing they’ve done is talk about recycling while grabbing another disposable coffee cup. It’s all very well-meaning, but sometimes it feels like we’re just creating more labels and spaces to call ourselves “inclusive” without really addressing the elephant in the room: most of us don’t actually know each other beyond the occasional “How’s the weather?” or “What’s due this week?”
But that’s okay. Because here’s the thing: despite all the groups, despite the occasional clashing ideals and, yes, maybe the “misplaced priorities” (looking at you, three a.m. gaming sessions), there’s something kind of magical about Bucknell’s oddball sense of community. It’s not perfect, it’s not always pretty and it’s certainly not a flawless picture of what college camaraderie should look like. But what it is—what we are—is a messy, interesting and very real collection of people who are all just trying to do something. We might not always agree on what that something is, but we’re in it together. And maybe that’s the most important thing we can take away from our time here—the understanding that while we can’t all fit neatly into the same box (or group), we’re still somehow making it work. We’re still figuring out what it means to be part of a community, even if it means laughing about how ridiculously flawed we are as we do it. So, are we a real Bucknell community? Eh, we’re getting there. And, honestly, that’s probably enough.
