"I literally cannot wait to get out of here," my classmates announced daily, as they trudged through the halls of our medium-sized, public high school for four years. Everyone counted down the days until they would bid their teary-eyed parents goodbye and finally taste the freedom of college life. Two classes a day, your own room with a fridge just steps away from your bed, and no curfew sounded immensely exciting to most people. However, I was not on the same page as my classmates.
In high school, I was not the prom queen, the valedictorian, the most athletic, or the Friday/Saturday night party girl. Still, I couldn’t have loved it more. As a freshman, I was shy, awkward, and lacked confidence. However, over four years I ditched that side and became incredibly at ease with myself and those around me. I threw myself into running cross-country and track, and made an effort to get know as many classmates as possible. By senior year, everyone knew each other and the general backstories of each member of the class. I couldn’t walk down the hallway without seeing a good friend, who would then proceed to beam with excitement over the fact our paths had crossed. My locker each afternoon was a hub of my closest friends. We would catch each other up on our endeavors of that day, complain about practice in a half an hour, and laugh and joke around no matter what was going on. The weekends were occupied with our favorite hometown restaurants, filling the fan section of whichever game was being played, and caravanning in whatever charming old car our parents had reluctantly given us the keys to. It all sounds very much like a cliché country song by Kenny Chesney, but it felt like that.
As my classmates and friends celebrated the beginning of a new chapter of our lives, I mourned the loss of our previous chapter. Of course, all graduates feel a sentimental sadness as they realize they must leave their childhood friends and home. However, personally, the idea of “starting over” was quite romanticized. We each had put immense time and effort into building a life where we were—why did we have to take a wrecking ball to it all by moving away?
For my own sake, I promised myself and my friends that I would get excited about college as soon as I departed for the four-hour drive to Saint Michael’s College. I was welcomed with cries of “WELCOME HOME,” from orientation leaders smiling outside of the gates. The typical college move-in process then commenced. We lugged all of my “necessities” up to the third floor, met my roommate and her family, and said a tearful goodbye to my parents and sisters.
Just like that, five weeks in my new home have passed. Transitioning to this new home has definitely been a process of highs and lows. However, I have come to realize St. Mike's is now my second home, which is something that all college students eventually come to terms with. At first, you ache for a place in which everyone knows your name, your mom’s famous pot roast, and friends who understand why every scene of "Bridesmaids" makes you pee your pants laughing. Eventually, every college freshman faces a moment in which they know they will regard their new home with the same sentiment they did in high school.
Time, as well as a little push from joining various clubs and organizations, will lead to involvement in your new community. Furthermore, it is important to remember that all of your advancements in high school are not erased. Accomplishments of the past are what allowed each of us to have the opportunity to go to college. Future friends will not replace the old ones; instead, will be added to your family.
Although college may be difficult and scary in the beginning, before we know it, we will be clutching the Class of 2019 on the lawn at graduation, desperately dreading entering the “real world.” Stay tuned for “My First Job: Reflections Of A Washed Up College Girl.”
