Last week during a very hot day that was intended to orient me to the next two years of my life, Dr. Tinkcom got up to introduce himself, and welcome us to Georgetown.
“I have two favorite days each year,” he said, “and one is the annual sale at Barneys.”
He was quick to inform us that his other favorite was the orientation day for our program, although he didn’t clarify which he liked best.
“You know in Las Vegas,” he continued, adjusting his fashionably thick rimmed glasses and not missing a single beat, “every night at the Celine Dion concert there is this encore. And people have talked about this…” He proceeded to describe how the show includes a second encore that is engineered with such intimacy that every night the audience is meant to feel as if this encore was just for them, that no one else had seen it before.
“And all of this is to say, this is not like that”, he finished.
Looking around the room, he was right. No one would ever have to construct a reason to be excited with my classmates. They are some of the most interesting and diverse people I have ever met.
There was only one thing that was bothering me. I had just flown in from Las Vegas where, I now must timidly admit, I saw Celine Dion. And you know what? There wasn’t a second encore. In fact, there weren’t any encores.