I do not envy high school seniors. I recall being told time and time again that senior year would be a breeze, that I would have nothing to stress about and everything to look forward to. College is the best four years of your life, right? Senior year is just the beginning, right?
Reflection leads me to conclude that senior year was not the breath of fresh air I was promised. The amount of time that I spent stressing over my college decisions was tantamount to the amount of stress a new mother goes through when anticipating her baby’s arrival – or at least, I’m pretty sure it was – and I do not miss those days of desperately attempting to make my answer to “What makes you different?” one which avoided clichés.
My years of hard work and months of apprehension paid off when the acceptance letters and scholarship offers began appearing. But that was short-lived, as I came to realize that I was a liberal arts student at the mercy of an SEC-dominated market. Scholarships to small-sized private schools sound great on paper, but they’re deceivingly so. The price of one year at the University of Kentucky is about half that of Bellarmine University; if I had chosen to attend the latter, even with a scholarship, and even with my parents helping out, the me of the future would have been seriously in debt. As such, I sit here today in the William T. Young Library, a UK wildcat studying psychology for the next four years.
Those four years seemed particularly daunting when I arrived on campus in August, and realized that I didn’t know the first thing about attending a university of this size. My favorite classes in high school were the ones with less than 20 students; the population of my first math class of college clocked in at 75. The campus was so large that my calf muscles were sore for weeks from walking to and from class, and the dining hall made me feel like a small child in a world made for grown ups. But as the reality of the semester set it, the most difficult challenge was finding “my place” on campus. Instead of being certain that my group of friends was simply waiting for me to find them, I was overwhelmed by the number of possibilities and options. For these reasons, I spent many hours concerned that I had taken a wrong turn, that I would be unhappy for years as a result of my decision to choose long-term financial stability over short-term emotional stability. The school I had desperately hoped to attend had not come through with the financial aid I needed, but UK did. When I visited that other university, I felt as if I fit it, but UK would give me the opportunity to begin my adult life without facing years of student loan bills. A liberal arts school would allow me to explore my interests, but a research university would emphasize the importance of the structured, scientific approach to my major. In a true moment of head versus heart, I chose to be practical, but I feared I would never feel at home.
My second semester began with a commitment to change. The new year provides us all with another trial run, a chance to alter our behavior without having to explain our intentions. With this mindset, I applied to a variety of different jobs or programs on campus and within two weeks I became a tutor, a writer, a radio station employee and a residential advisor candidate. I assessed my options and threw myself without even testing the waters. And it worked.
I’m a student suited to a liberal arts education, but I go to an SEC school and I’m happy with my trajectory. I still don't care for football games, and I would rather spend my Saturday shelving CDs; but I thought I would still be missing the comfort of high school, where I knew my place and my purpose. Now I know that I’m forging a new path each day.
