Spar and the First-Years: New Kids on the Block

As I stood in a line full of wide-eyed students and chatty alums waiting to shake the hand of Debora Spar, Barnard’s next president, I couldn’t help but notice the expression on her face. I knew it so well, and after ogling her for an embarrassingly long time, it came to me. She looked just like a first-year student on her first day of orientation. Her expression of overwhelmed excitement mixed with a glint of fear reminded me that this seemingly untouchable person was just another Barnard woman taking it all in for the first time. When it was finally my turn to introduce myself, I strode confidently onward and firmly shook her hand. “I’m Reni Calister, and I’m the first-year president!” After an introduction that would have been expected from a 6-year-old, I turned a lovely shade of scarlet and further embarrassed myself with suppressed giggles and snorts. When my horrifying moment ended, I was shocked to see the look of relief on Spar’s face. It was as if my obvious nervousness and failure to compose myself reminded her that she wasn’t the only one feeling put on the spot or judged. She gave me a warm smile, congratulated me, and gracefully turned to her next admirer.

Coming away from my encounter, still rather red and clammy, I was honored to take part in Spar’s shining moment. As she greeted and shook the hands of all those who desired to meet her, I could not help but reflect on how agonizing it must have been for her to wait for news of whether or not she had made the cut. I vividly remember the butterflies in my stomach and simply bubbling over with impatience as I waited for my letter from Barnard. I pictured her receiving the good news, and saw in her the same reaction that I had, a huge frenzy of tears, screams, and angry phone calls from neighbors.

As first-years at Barnard, we are made well aware of the incredibly successful alumni that attended before us. Knowing that some of the greatest women in history sat in the same classrooms and walked the same paths as us evokes a sense of panic, leaving us wondering if we will be able to live up to Barnard’s legacy. I can only imagine how daunting it must be to follow in the footsteps of a veteran like Judith Shapiro or any of the other great presidents of Barnard. That great lineage of presidents is much akin the great lineage of Barnard grads, and it must be just as intimidating for Spar as it is for us wide-eyed first-years. From my experience as a new leader on campus, I know she will face challenges both great and small—she will be criticized, judged, and at times she will feel about two-feet-tall. But like any other Barnard leader, she will build herself back up, learn from her mistakes, and take care of business.

Spar will experience much of what the first-years did—she will get lost in the tunnels, she will need an advisor, she will learn hundreds of new names, she will call an unfamiliar place home, and she will become a Barnard woman. When the crowd around her had lifted and when most everyone in the room had left, I walked up to the future president one more time. After observing her and contemplating her future experiences, I shook her hand one more time and congratulated her. She nodded and gave me a chuckle, alluding to my first attempt, and with that, I left her presence feeling that I had just met a woman who will make history.

The author is a Barnard College first-year. She is the first-year class president.