Let’s start with a conversation I overheard a few weeks ago. Or better yet, let’s discuss a conversation I’ve been overhearing for the past three years. I was sitting at a bar in Downtown Binghamton — on an 18-and-over night, of course — when the topic of what everyone was doing for summer vacation came up. What was once a season of summer-camp counseling and menial labor has transformed into a world that revolves around one word: internships.

There was no mention of summer camp, beaches or vacations in this more recent conversation. All I heard was talk of Wall Street, firms, research, money, recommendations and commutes. For a second there I couldn’t remember if I was sitting in Boca Joe’s with a bunch of frat boys — or with some suburban homeowners. Everyone seemed to be on the fast track to middle age.

Now, I might have blown off Glenn G. to go out on a Tuesday, but there was no way I would be able to skip the 8 a.m. party on the Long Island Rail Road; that’s right, I too am on my way.

Still, while sitting in this mecca of overly ambitious SOM proteges, I had an epiphany: focus is fabulous. Direction is glorious. Even ambition is necessary. Naturally, reality supports the fact that if you want to get somewhere in life, you need to follow certain steps to get there.

But it can burn you out. I stopped teaching tennis, an activity I had done every summer since the 9th grade, upon my high school graduation so I could be the only one of my friends to schlep into midtown Manhattan to intern at a pretty nifty newspaper. I thought I was Carrie Bradshaw meets the New York Times’s Tom Friedman. And slowly but surely, I became the Queen of the Media Kits. Don’t worry though, because I had a great time with the people I worked with and definitely learned a lot.

But I don’t like what I’m learning. Internships are great when they actually fulfill the purpose they are supposed to serve, which is helping you to navigate your decision about whether a certain field is right for you. But they have morphed into resume builders, a one-up on the competition. We stress for months about getting that “great” spot, all for what basically ends up being two months of pseudo-bitch work. We’ve gotten it into our heads that we will fail at life without this flawless summer experience.

Ambition and motivation are legitimate. But I’m not really even a teensey bit excited to sell my soul to “the man.” College is our one window to not have all the answers. But this falls to the wayside because of outside pressure for instant success. Do we have fun while we can or do we give in and make the “smart” decision to “further our career opportunities?”

Perhaps it’s time for a happy medium. Yes, I will still be interning. But for the first time in three years, I will not be spending my summer at a newspaper. I’m hearing from many sources that I’m making a mistake, that by giving up my spot at my old newspaper, I am basically giving away a job opportunity post-graduation. But testing the waters isn’t the worst thing in the world. My summer may not be frisbee and baseball. But I see a strong correlation between a playground and a courtroom. So maybe working in the press offices of a judge is just the grown-up version of recess — fun, of course, being the point of summer vacation.

Nora Slonimsky is a sophomore English and history major and is assistant op/ed editor. She thinks “hakuna matata” is the solution to the internship dilemma.