This summer, I worked at Olin with Professor Sam Michalka and eight other Oliners on the CALL initiative. While our main objective was to find ways to integrate AI and emerging technologies with higher education, Sam pushed us to consider the real purpose of higher education. And more existentially, whether that purpose still matters.

Following one of these large discussions, Diana Garcia ‘25 and I were chatting after work when she asked me, “Swasti, what’s your perspective on Olin’s future?”

And without thinking about my answer I said, “I dunno man, I just want to get my degree and get out of here.”

“That’s so interesting… I didn’t expect you of all people to be so jaded”

I must have followed with a defensive quip of how all upperclassmen are jaded but I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was unequivocally right to judge me. 

She was right because I’m not a laid-back, nonchalant person. I am so chalant! I be chalanting!! I get involved in situations that don’t particularly ask for my input. I meddle. I care. And it’s my, perhaps naive, belief that most Oliners chose to be here for that same reason: to be with other engineers who care about making an impact.

So what’s happening?

Well, it feels like nobody believes Olin is going to last. It feels like half my class is expediting their graduation date as quickly as they can. And I catch myself counting credits to see whether I can graduate early too. Where is this trend coming from?

I remember a conversation later on in the summer that I had with Ian Walsh ‘26 and Alex George ‘26. It was so heated that it bled into our lunch break. The topic of discussion was what defines an Oliner. We talked about how in the past*, it seemed like Oliners were more willing to take risks, no matter how frivolous. More willing to spend 20 hours exploring something just because “it seemed interesting and fun.” The average Oliner’s capacity for play and exploration has been depleted since then. Is it that the new Oliners just aren’t the same goofy risk-takers we supposedly used to be? I refuse to believe so. I fear it is that Olin no longer provides the safety net it once did. 

Leslie Bostwick ‘26 said it best in her recent resignation email: “[The old] system [was] based at a time where Olin’s student body was still 50% on full tuition scholarship. A student body who didn’t need to choose their extracurriculars by the opportunities that further their future career in order to buy back the student loans sooner.”

We’re looking for quicker, easier ways to become competitive professionals. Which is increasingly desirable when there’s a looming sense of instability, financial and otherwise. We cannot be the same “goofy risk-takers”. How can we? 

I don’t have a clear-cut answer to how we can adapt our system to these unprecedented constraints. All I know is that there must be a better-formed alliance between students and those making systemic decisions.

Olin’s conflicts have historically been students versus Big Bad Admin shrouded in smoke. But I want to believe that Admin is fighting hard to make a name for Olin. So why the constant inability to hear one another? Are we not supposed to be on the same team? Is it not Olin’s cardinal lesson to collaboratively design a better system?

I recognize that plenty of students have interacted with admin to enact change, only to return with frustration and less progress than before. And it’s wildly presumptuous of me to suggest that those people haven’t done their due diligence in their attempts at collaboration. I must clarify that I am criticizing myself and others like me who continue to let those small few burden the load of being the only points of contact. Today’s Oliners are chronically stretched thin, wearing several campus identities, constantly.

Echoing Leslie once again, “time is our most precious resource.” So I understand that none of us have the time or energy to expend on involving ourselves with Student Government. At no other institution would we have to plead with our students to cough up a Student Body President. And by no means am I prescribing you as the reader to suddenly stand up and sign up for a position that you have no bandwidth for. If I’m honest, I’d have never engaged with CALL if it weren’t for the fact that I was getting paid over the summer to do so. 

At the risk of appearing as a Leslie superfan, there was another incredibly important point I want to bring up. “Student engagement that’s for the future of Olin should compensate you in the form of academic credit, allotted time or monetary.” 

My high school had a for-credit course dedicated to student government. As it stands, Olin’s structure does not prioritize student opinion purely because there is no incentive for the average student to take on such a large initiative. We must find ways to value student time and effort if we also wish for students to be co-creators of their education. And if leadership isn’t aligned with that goal, well then, I see why the active few are so frustrated and the student body is so resigned. 

I don’t want to be resigned and jaded. I care about this place and the people who make it Olin to me. Despite grappling with some existential questions over the summer, our CALL group has formed a pretty formidable bond with one another. It’s so adorably human, the desire to create a community wherever you go. If higher education has a role beyond the academic material, it has to be the space to define yourself relative to the community you are surrounded by. And in the special case of Olin, the ability to define your community relative to yourself.

*The view of ‘past olin’ represented here is extremely romanticized. I urge everyone to be critical of their biases and be critical of my thoughts as well. We all stand to gain from holding each other in mutual disagreement and respect.