The other day, Tom and I were walking to the Tufts gym. It was that day when Boston had - oh, I don’t know - seven trillion inches of snow topped with freezing rain. For some reason we thought, “Hey! I know! Let’s leave the comfort of our office and walk to the gym at the height of this miserable storm; that seems prudent!” In case you’d like to visualize: Tom had on his ski goggles, and I was both incredibly embarrassed – in fact I asked him to please walk eight steps behind me – and really freakin’ jealous, because I was getting sleeted in the eyes. We turned the corner and began walking down the hill that brings us to the Tisch Fitness Center. It’s a small slope by Tufts standards, not a big deal at all.
Ahead of us, a car approached. Heading up the small-by-Tufts-standards hill was clearly still very difficult for the vehicle… eventually the slope proved too much; the layer of sneet (that’s snow and sleet, but you knew that) proved too slick. The front tires began spinning furiously, but that car wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
We were still a ways away from the car, but ahead of us were a couple groups of brave-slash-dumb-but-let’s-go-with-brave Tufts students also heading to the gym in the blizzard. I watched through the white haze as both groups heard the tires begin to spin, and then the best thing ever happened. Every head in those two groups cocked to the side, all ears turned toward the sound of rubber on slush. It was like watching six dogs perk up at the sound of a bag of kibble crinkling open. I imagined them all thinking, “Sounds like someone’s in trouble!”
There was no hesitation – both groups veered to the right and out onto the street without even consulting each other. Not being able to hear them was the most hilarious part, because I got to play out their conversation in my head. “HERE WE COME, CIVILIAN!” I thought to myself. “Fret not, passerby! We Jumbos will rescue you in this tempest!”(Give me a break; I miss TV when I’m reading applications.) Within seconds, this poor unsuspecting woman had six people behind her car pushing with all their might. There wasn’t even enough room for all of them against her bumper, so a couple of them took on cheerleader roles. It was such a “clear eyes, full hearts” moment, Coach Taylor would have been so proud.
I had to laugh to myself about it – this is so Tufts, I thought.
It’s probably not often that you hear an admissions officer talk about how nice the students at their school are during an information session. It’s all about how driven they are, how accomplished they are, how impressive they are. But shouldn’t kindness be the most important part? Don’t get me wrong, Tufts students are extremely driven, accomplished, and impressive, but as a student I was far more appreciative of their kindness than I was of their resume. I don’t particularly care how impressive my friends are, I want them to be nice, for crying out loud. I don’t care too much that my roommate is accomplished as long as she’s bighearted. I don’t come to someone with my worries or my disappointments or my triumphs because they’re driven – I come to them because they’re compassionate. Tufts has kindness in spades. I was not the least bit surprised that these students jumped to this driver’s rescue without hesitation – that’s what Jumbos do.
If you’re coming to visit campus, I challenge you to ask someone for directions, even if you’re not lost. I’ve heard so many times about prospective students asking helplessly for Dowling Hall and hearing “I’LL WALK YOU THERE!” It makes me laugh as they tell me the story. Oh this is just the beginning, I want to tell them. Wait until your friends are outside your classroom after a test with signs to celebrate that the hateful thing is done. Wait until you’re organizing a flash mob to cheer up your homesick hall-mate with everyone in your dorm…
… Wait until your car is stuck in a snowstorm.