Last Sunday was undeniably one of the most beautiful days Wesleyan has seen in a while: the sun was shining, birds were frantically chirping, and admirable Middletowners and Wes students alike ran a half-marathon through the streets to the jubilant cheers of bystanders. The throngs of people crowding Foss collectively sent out the message we’ve all been waiting for: Spring is finally here.

To me, though, the best part of the day was circling up with about 35 others in the lounge of 200 Church. Made up of mostly Wesleyan students, but including some Middletown residents as well, this crowd spent a few hours together, talking, eating, and ultimately—on both the student side and Middletowner side—hoping this meal would benefit the relationship between Wesleyan and the greater Middletown community.

The meeting was for Middletown Potluck, a group on campus founded on the idea that breaking bread together will lead to more intimate connections between individuals and, in this case, the Wesleyan and Middletown populations. The club plans multiple events a semester, where anyone who wants to spends the day cooking, and in addition to a fresh meal for any who want it, guest speakers are invited to spur discussion among the guests on any chosen theme (past themes include home, eradicating hate, and health).

I acknowledge that this is totally a plug, but I really can’t emphasize enough how much being a part of this club and these events has positively impacted my first year at Wes. Hands down, being involved in planning and getting to go to the potlucks are the most fulfilling things I’ve done since being in college. I realized this after my first potluck in November, after which I nerdily, excitedly called my mom and told her that now I was sure I came to the right place.

After the potlucks, though, I always tend to question what it is about doing them that makes me so happy. Obviously, it’s great to spend the early morning flipping pancakes and shamelessly belting Top 40 pop hits from 2008 with friends, and then feeling accomplished and content later on when those pancakes brighten up many strangers’ days. Even better is feeling like you’ve had an invigorating conversation with those strangers on a topic that is fascinating to think about but even more fascinating to hear about from others very different than you. It’s great to feel connected to Middletown, and to feel connected to Wes students that you probably wouldn’t have otherwise conversed with on that level.

Above all, Middletown Potluck is a group that prides itself on providing services to the benefit of its surrounding community. In my eyes, it’s bona fide Good Samaritan type work: helping out a stranger, engaging with them, hopefully leaving them better than when you found them.

Middletown Potluck shouldn’t be construed as just a charity-type club with the intention of feeding or offering companionship to those who truly need it. Nevertheless, I find myself doubting the validity of my personal satisfaction when it comes to the potlucks because of my qualms with some people who do charity work. Charity work and being a Good Samaritan have their obvious merits—people taking time out of their day to help people in need, or causes in which they believe. My problem is when charity work is done for reasons other than wanting to help your cause. And at Wesleyan, I think we’re all aware of circumstances that produce those reasons. Like applying to Wesleyan.

I hate high school and the college process for giving me a reason to feel skeptical of the gratification I get from being involved in something like Middletown Potluck here. After all, what would admissions officers love to see on an application more than dedication to a group like Middletown Potluck, other than your own start-up company, or that you’re a trained, touring trapeze artist, or maybe that you can pay full tuition? I don’t know if I can speak for all high schools, but at mine certainly, a solid chunk of the four years was how well they were going to look on your college apps and how you could exaggerate on your resume. Even beyond applications and resumes, there was an undeniable culture of self-indulgence that came with the volunteer efforts of mostly well-off kids.

The real question to ask, then, is did these attitudes carry over to college? Resumes are still a thing. Generally, you want them to be impressive. There are always going to be the kinds of people who make the magnitude of their resume a priority over, say, the interests and recreation they are (or would rather be) dedicating their time to. They spread themselves thin in an attempt to seem or feel particularly diverse. They might care a particularly large amount about how their many accomplishments compare to others.

You won’t really find those people here at Wes, though. For the most part, you see people here actually doing what they like, or genuinely trying new things to find what it is they’re passionate about. There’s not really a point to building yourself up for the sake of an outward show of your achievements because people generally don’t really give a fuck what you’ve achieved, so long as you’ve found something that makes you happy (so much as that’s not impeding on other peoples’ happiness).

While college, and Wesleyan in particular, brings with it many apparent stresses and joys, the relief that has come from this attitude turnover from high school is absolutely one of the best feelings to have here.

Aibinder is a member of the class of 2018.