Sarah Brannigan (B’28) is a sophomore at Georgetown University in the McDonough School of Business. She loves golfing, traveling, and Dunkin’ Donuts.
College experiences are often defined by grand gestures and events. Alumni often recall move-in, Homecoming football games and graduation ceremonies. But some of my favorite parts of Georgetown are the moments I used to overlook: the small, everyday experiences that, on reflection, have shaped my time here the most.
Right now I am sitting at a flower-lined table in the Healy Family Student Center getting ready to check families in for Family Weekend 2025. I was able to see my parents last weekend, so today I feel happy to help others enjoy the weekend with theirs. In the quiet time before the rush of families to grab a warm cup of coffee and a schedule of events I can’t help but notice the little things — a year at Georgetown will do that to you.
For starters, it’s 7:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning, the first true fall day at Georgetown. The sun shines over the Potomac and into the windows of the Great Room. The leaves outside are slowly changing colors as the semester flies by. Student volunteers are dispersed across the Great Room ready to welcome and assist every family that comes their way. This is representative of how driven Hoyas are and how much they love helping others.
As I leave the HFSC, I’m reminded of another little thing I love about Georgetown: the balance between sound and silence. I find silence when I go to Dahlgren Quad in the evenings and get work done by the fountain. Other times when I need a second, I head to the Bioethics Library to complete work with no distractions. But still, the quietest spaces on campus can feel alive when you’re surrounded by the energy of students who are always in motion.
The constant murmur of conversation in the hallways ranges from who got eliminated on Dancing With the Stars last night to debates about policy and philosophy. This mixes with the creaking of hardwood floors and the ringing of the Healy Clock Tower. I have come to the surprising conclusion, that noise and motion can be as comforting as silence at times.
Speaking of motion, checking families in at this table is the longest I’ve sat still all semester. Georgetown students are always moving between classes, clubs and speaker events. Hoyas understand how busy their peers are, which makes a quick passing conversation in the hallway an acceptable greeting. Hoyas share a nod or wave that acknowledges how we all have somewhere to go.
Another little thing I love is taking a walk on campus or beyond the front gates. A light breeze always seems to drift through Georgetown, and special attention is required to place your feet just right on the red brick roads. I’m grateful that the university is so deeply woven into the surrounding community. On any given day, you’ll see children, grandparents, dogs and neighbors all sharing the same streets that lead us home.
But what I’ve come to love most is how, at the end of the day, all that motion leads us back together. After the meetings wrap up and the work is done, Hoyas always find their way back. Maybe to a dining hall table, a common room couch or a late-night walk across the front lawn. No matter how full our schedules get, there’s always space to pause, laugh and remember why we’re here: to grow, to learn and to do it together.
For so many, including myself, Georgetown is a goal that’s been years in the making. Though it might have taken me a year, I’ve discovered in the quiet corners of the day that being present in the now is the beginning of something even greater. In the transition from high school, I have learned that Georgetown is more about the process than the outcome — both in the classroom when trying to tackle a difficult subject, and on the weekend when trying to decide how to spend a rare glimpse of free time. Growth doesn’t happen in grand achievements, but in the quiet appreciation of where you are and who you are becoming.
