When I first applied to university, I thought I knew exactly what I wanted. Coming from such a large city such as London, I wanted to follow the path of my dad. He always said that he loved attending Duke University. Being the one non-American student helped him feel recognized in a larger crowd. Attending a school in such a rural area meant that he was close with all of his peers. Although I was rejected early decision from Duke, I chose to take a similar path. I completed my freshman year of college at Elon University in North Carolina.
Throughout high school, I had attended the American School in London. I thought this meant I understood the culture I was part of. I felt that because I was surrounded by Americans, I could easily transition into a non-diverse school. During the week of graduation, I was thrilled to tell everyone that I would be attending school in North Carolina and continued bragging for months until move in day.
Leaving home and moving into university was one of the hardest experiences of my life. I remember bragging for months about how I couldn’t “wait to get away from London and the people I knew.” I wanted to start fresh and finally meet a new group that had not known me since I was basically an infant. The day I began packing was two days before I was scheduled to leave home. I remember packing with such excitement. Two bags later, I began to break down. I grabbed onto my mother like I was a six-year-old about to enter preschool for the first time with tears rolling down my face.
My first few weeks at Elon University seemed decently fun to me. I enjoyed meeting new people and telling them my background story: “I’m from India originally. I grew up between London and Lagos,” I would say. However, no one I met could connect to that story since the majority of the students were born and raised on the east coast. After days of crying and complaining to my parents, we made the decision for me to transfer schools.
This time I was going to do it right. I was going to only apply to big city schools, thus my decision was between New York University and Boston University. I chose BU because it was in a city that was filled with college students which I hoped would make it easier for me to settle down. Moving again was not easy. My first few months at BU consisted of crazy insomnia and plenty of mental breakdowns. I recall calling my parents every day and begging them to let me come home. I wanted to move to any school in London because I had given up. I wanted to move back home where I already had people to lean on. I had given up on giving new schools another chance.
It wasn’t until early November that I began to settle into school. It took me a couple of months but I realized that I wasn’t alone. Many people are struggling to settle into new environments every day. It took me moving to my fourth school in four years to realize that every new situation deserves a chance because, in the end, time heals all wounds.
