One late afternoon four years ago, my high school college advisor told me, “There are all kinds of things to consider when deciding on which university is the right fit for you. A really important factor is the size of the school.” And then came that big question: Would you rather be a small fish in a big pond or a big fish in a small pond?

I have only ever heard this fish-pond expression used in the context of American colleges. Most institutions advertise themselves as offering students the “big fish in a small pond” experience, promising to make them feel seen and valued as individuals. This concept, however, never appealed to me. 

From the very first day I sat down to think about possible colleges, I always gravitated toward bigger ones. I wanted to be a small fish in a big pond, to feel like I was one of many people who came there for an education. The feeling of not being particularly important by default gave me a sense of freedom and removed all pressure off my shoulders. Or perhaps I just wanted to fight for my place, to not have anything just handed to me. Whatever it was, when I accepted my offer from UC Berkeley, I was ecstatic to throw myself into this massive school and see where the water would take me.

But Berkeley is no pond. It is an ocean.

Back in high school, I had always felt like I belonged. I had high grades, a great friend group and I was living in a community and culture that I identified as my own. I had a place in that life, one that I didn’t have to fight for, one that was mine by default. This would soon change. When I started my freshman year, I realized that I didn’t have a place here. In a school this big, nobody did, not at first. Not until they made it. 

So there I was, a small fish on Sproul Plaza lost in a massive crowd of students, completely disconnected from all that gave me comfort — my family, my friends, my country, my culture — starting from scratch. While it was terrifying to be taken out of my bubble and thrown into this open playing field, it was also liberating. Not having a place somewhere means you get to decide what your place will be; you can be anyone you want, nobody yet knows you and your life is so unshaped. 

I think a part of me knew. A part of me longed for the ocean.

For four years, every decision I made contributed to that space I created for myself on this campus, as a part of this community. I pushed myself to my limits, slowly and step by step, always curious to see just how much I was capable of accomplishing. 

I grew from an anxious intended-MCB major who loved taking literature classes to a double major student simultaneously writing a thesis on cancer biology and another on French existential literature. I started as a nervous fan of the Daily Cal who didn’t even consider applying to such a prestigious organization and I am graduating as a Daily Cal writer and editor for whom writing is now everything. I went from knowing nobody on campus to being surrounded by people who fill my life with joy and my heart with love. 

I’ve worked incredibly hard these last four years, not only for good grades or to make my loved ones proud, but because I’ve loved every minute of it. I grew to love this version of myself that I created in Berkeley, this confident and hardworking person who fights for what she loves. I don’t know how the years to come will shape me, but I hope I always remember how proud I feel today of the person I have become, the person Berkeley has shaped me to be. I hope I never forget or lose her.

As I’m getting ready to say goodbye, it’s difficult to believe that the girl who walked through Sather Gate for the first time four years ago is the same person seeing it for perhaps the very last time now. Will I miss Berkeley? Of course I will. But it’s time to move onto my next adventure because I’m not done having these adventures — seeing new things, living in different cities and experiencing things on the move — even if it means not feeling at home all the time. Goodbyes are a part of life and I have to be comfortable with them. All there is left for me to do is be glad to have grown into a person who has the courage to chase her dreams elsewhere.

Did I make the right choice by coming to Berkeley? Did I find the “right fit” for myself as my college advisor would say? I do not know. Maybe I would be happier somewhere else, maybe I wouldn’t be. Maybe being happy isn’t the ultimate goal. All I know is that these last four years have been a whirlwind, and I am eternally grateful that I got to experience them.

Berkeley, goodbye. You’ve given me all you could. It’s been a pleasure to be a fish in your ocean-like pond. Although your waves were strong at times, I’ve grown strong enough to forge through your currents. And now, surrounded by all this blue, it is quite peaceful underneath.

Merve Ozdemir was the spring 2023 Weekender editor. She joined The Daily Californian in spring 2021 as an opinion columnist. She worked as a Weekender staff writer in spring 2022 before becoming the Weekender deputy editor in fall 2022. She is graduating with bachelor’s degrees in comparative literature and molecular & cell biology, with a minor in French.

Merve Ozdemir was the spring 2023 Weekender editor. She joined The Daily Californian in spring 2021 as an opinion columnist. She worked as a Weekender staff writer in spring 2022 before becoming the Weekender deputy editor in fall 2022. She is graduating with bachelor’s degrees in comparative literature and molecular & cell biology, with a minor in French.