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If you’re among those reading this on your smartphone or laptop, you’ll have noticed that the magazine website looks quite different.

When I was in sixth grade, my family moved from Harvard, Mass., to Colorado Springs, Colo. Our new house was on a ridge with a view of Pikes Peak, which famously inspired Katharine Lee Bates,...

Since I graduated 25 years ago, some of the details of being a student have changed (cell phones instead of landlines, Sidechat instead of Public, Lulu instead of Schneider), but the intrinsic Wellesleyness of Wellesley has not changed.

The spring of my sophomore year at Wellesley, with great relief, I declared myself an English major.

In December 2001, I was an editorial assistant at MIT Technology Review. I edited class notes, processed invoices, and listened to The Strokes’ album Is This It on repeat.

You won’t be shocked to learn that I’m an enthusiastic reader. This means that in my family’s small house, we’ve had to get creative with book storage.

This year, sitting at the media table in the big white tent on Severance Green, I was especially nostalgic. My classmate Jocelyn Benson ’99, secretary of state of Michigan, delivered the commencement address to the class of 2023—another yellow class, serendipitously.

The Wellesley community is full of nationally recognized changemakers and people who are just trying to get by, taking care of themselves and their loved ones as best they can under challenging circumstances. Often, those alums are one and the same.

On Jan. 15, 2010, I lurched out of bed at 7 a.m. and maneuvered my hugely pregnant self to the bathroom. In the dim hallway, I suddenly felt warm wetness on my legs, and saw a puddle forming on our uneven hardwood floor. My water had broken.