Last summer, after I told people where I went to school, all I heard was: "That's an incredible school, you must be a smart girl. What are you studying?"

This summer, after I told people where I went to school, the response was: "So you like to party huh?"

I remember the day of my acceptance like it was yesterday. After spending years sporting Eagle's attire, I had gotten a misdirected email calling my attention to sign up for Early Action Admitted Eagle's Day. That didn't make sense, it was March, Early Action acceptances came back during Christmas time. My Christmas "gift" was coal -my application was deferred. After months of pushing off the thought of Boston College, and keeping a namesake sweatshirt kitty-cornered in my bed, I knew it was time to find out where my fate lay. I called the Undergraduate Admission Office, an "innocent" follow up about a misdirected email. (Or that's what I told myself to calm down) Accepted with my name next to it. Could this really be true; had all my hours of homework, community service, and laundry list of extracurricular activities finally formulated success? The woman on the other end of line had me spell my last name for her twice. Pause. As I waited for admissions to tell me the status of my application I could feel my confidence dwindling, what was I going to do if I did not get in, or worse, what if I got in and could not afford it?

Congratulations Lindsey, you are an Eagle.

Hurdle one was cleared. I had proved to myself and my peers that I made it. I got in my Number One. A month went by. I knew my parents were doing everything in their power to send me to my dream school. It was stressful, knowing I got in, but being unsure whether I would make the cut. Whether it was possible for me to enroll. I feel like no one ever talks about the financial circumstances when choosing your undergrad. Instead, telling young children they can go to whatever school they please as long as they work hard enough. The harsh reality was that although I had over exerted myself in high school, that did not necessarily guarantee my entrance into the university.

It was prom season, I was at my best friends house after we had gone thrifting to find her dress (because after junior prom who really wants to drop another 300$) and my parents texted me asking when I would be home. I knew it was "that time" of year when everyone was putting their deposits down; which meant it was also "that time" of year when I would find out where I got to enroll. I remember driving home, walking in my house, and seeing my mom, dad, brother, and two sisters all in our kitchen. My dad said he had something to tell me: I put in your deposit, you can tell your friends and post it wherever you want: you are officially in the Boston College Class of 2018. (I cried, a lot)

Hurdle two was cleared, somehow my parents (who were not even forty) managed to allocate the funds to allow me to pursue my dream. The months leading up to Convocation I was filled with nerves: imagining BC bustling with students doused in pastels, name brands, and competitiveness in academia that I had not been faced with before. They had last names that had weight in the business field and bank cards they could swipe without flinching. I knew that I was bound to be a more humble case upon my entrance and I was ready for the challenge.

My year at Boston College was full of football games, tailgates, and overly crowded parties at The Mods. It was a year full of: learning how to cut strings from heavy high school ties, hours spent working and studying in the library, and finding myself. I loved BC. I remember walking around knowing how hard I had worked to get there and being shocked to learn about students who viewed it as their safety school. While I studied in Chestnut Hill I felt like I was part of something special, we were a top-ranked college, dedicated to incorporating the Jesuit Values of "Men and women for others" into our extracurriculars and academia. I liked how that vision made me feel.

However, I would frequently find myself feeling anxious and alone. As someone who was so used to being in control in high school, I felt my world was spinning while I was in Boston. I felt like I didn't belong, what I dreamt of for so long did not materialize itself to what I imagined it being. Sure, I had an awesome name branded on my sweatshirt, but I also frequented the school's counseling office, was afraid to apply for clubs due to my fear of rejection, and my confidence was slipping. I was prone to anxiety attacks and I started eating and running less. Adding to that, I was not part of the predominantly elite culture of my campus. Only some of my friends held jobs while at school and a multitude of others had never held an employment position in their lives. For the first time I felt truly out of place in the boundaries that I assumed to be my heaven.

Spring semester rolled around and my parents thought it would be best for me to apply somewhere else, after all BC is expensive and despite my best intents I was not utilizing its resources like I should have. It was a maneuver I did in case things fell through, I had a change of heart, or if at the end of the day that would end up being the most reasonable decision.

I blindly applied to UMASS Amherst, I had never seen the school, but I figured it was my best bet. At first, I did not tell anyone. I applied and kept my secret to myself, I wanted my friends to treat me normally, not as if I was just a part-time friend planning my departure as soon as Spring Finals were handed in. After Spring Break,when the housing lottery began, I knew I had to tell everyone. That was the hardest part, letting them all know I would probably be gone. Going to a private school, in my experience, isn't like a state school where you can just drive a half hour to see each other, all my friends were from different states: Florida, North Carolina, New York, New Jersey, and Illinois; it wasn't like I would have the funds to hop on a plane to go visit them.

The day I officially withdrew from my dream school felt like the worst day of my life. I cried. I stupidly believed that I hated the world and that I would never got a job now that I was going to a state school. To my current distaste, I truly believed that without a top-tier name on my diploma it meant that my education would be lesser, employees would view me differently, and my opportunity pool would dwindle.

I was very, very wrong. Since my transfer to UMASS Amherst, I have had a huge change of heart. I love going to a state school. It's fun going to a school where 9/10 times whoever you are talking to knows someone who knows someone that has some connection to you. During my short career here I have been involved in opportunities where I have been able to create close relationships with professors, meet Senators, and run alongside acres of farmland. When it comes down to it, it really does not matter on where the student goes to school, but the type of student you mold yourself as.

Being in Amherst has allowed me to reflect on what is truly important to me now and how I plan to follow through on these passions in my future. Although I wish I did not have to endure the heartbreak of leaving what I believed to be "My Dream" I am happy for the humbling experiences and extraordinary people I met while I was there.

So yes, my school now may be dubbed "The Zoo", but it is truly a beautiful establishment if you know which exhibits to pay close attention to.