*tl;dr--This is a mix of a meme, an angsty reflection piece that I found under my bed, and three hours of sitting in a hot tub. Don't take life so seriously.*
Freshman year of college is freaking hard. Actually, it flat out sucks sometimes. Honestly, I’ve never felt more stressed and overwhelmed in my life, staring at books upon books of material that I’ve never seen before. School, for many, is not easy anymore—it’s not just a place where you see your friends for multiple days of the week and breeze through your coursework. No, college is a completely different animal. Additionally, for those students like myself, who sailed through their classes in high school, graduated with honors AND somehow snagged all these scholarships, college is a gigantic wake-up call. I never got a B. I never skipped class. I never studied. I just went through the motions of high school and graduated in 4 years, bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready for college.
But I wasn’t.
Freshman year was a huge slap in the face. I failed all of my first major assignments—my first chemistry exam, my first biology exam, my first philosophy paper and I barely scraped a C together for my first English essay. I thought these subjects, having had plenty of experience prior, would be GPA boosters—couldn’t have been more wrong. I struggled to maintain B’s all semester, with mid-semester showing that I was average, a mix of C’s and B’s. At the conclusion of the fall semester, I did not get an A in any of my courses. I lost a considerable amount of weight and I still did not know how to study. I thought it was the end of the world. I ate so much Chipotle and frozen yogurt. I punched plenty of pillows and wrote angsty poetry about the unfairness that is freshman year. I was so upset.
By this point, I totally understand if you'd like to punch me in the face.
However, for many here at Carnegie Mellon, I ended up on the luckier side. I didn’t fail a course (although Spring Calculus almost brought that gift to me). I didn’t drop out. And I didn’t lose (all of, just most of) my remaining marbles. Spring was slightly easier. A change in majors helped; however, mid-semester still proved I was having a rocky start. At least now I knew that dropping courses was perfectly acceptable. Goodbye Bio Lab, Inorganic Chemistry and Calculus II. As for skipping class, well, I’m not going to lie and say I haven’t. Sometimes that early morning recitation or Friday lecture was just not my favorite.
Oops.
But now, as I reflect back on the academic year, I’ve come to the conclusion that, despite all the hard work, the professor is a huge determination of my performance in a course. No longer is an instructor meant to teach you HOW to learn—instead, they expect you to KNOW how you learn already. It’s not baby steps anymore—you’re running full speed and if you fall behind, you better find some help quickly to avoid being left behind. My performance in a handful of my freshman courses has been pivotal on the disposition I harbor towards my instructor. The instructors I enjoyed? Perfectly fine, worked my butt off and sually ended up with a high B or low A. The instructors I disliked/disliked me? Well, let’s just say some of those B’s were granted completely by luck or simply by the fact that the professor did not want me in his/her course ever again.
In college, I had this notion that professors would be unwilling to affect their student’s performance by just lecturing and barely learning names. I think for some institutions this is true; however, at CMU, I’ve found that professors can really make the course an enjoyable (or unenjoyable) experience, even with the simplest of gestures. Furthermore, it’s reasonable to believe that you enjoy learning with professors who are engaging and more willing to get to know the students. But sometimes—they are just the worst human being ever. Drop the course. Find a new instructor. Get an outside tutor. Do something about it.
They’re still getting paid and you’re still helpless unless you seek out opportunities.
Yes, you’ll get those terrible professors. They’re awful and it feels like you’re doomed to fail. And you might. You might fail the course or you might barely make it out with a D. And sometimes, there’s nothing you can do about it other than try your absolute hardest. But it’s not the end of the world (unless you’re pre-med like me, in which case, drop the course). You'll stuff your face full of peanut butter and oreos and Nutella and cry about it for a few months (or years) but you'll get over it. There’s such a stigma about failing in college and it’s the worst feeling in the world—but you’re far more important than grades or numbers. You’re paying tens of thousands of dollars for an education, so it’s only right that you take measures into your own hands when the situation calls for it. Don’t be helpless. However, at the same time, don’t be overly worried. It’s just freshman (or sophomore or junior or senior) year. You’ll be alright.
I’m sure a Band-Aid and some dirt will fix it somehow.
