For the first-years reading this article: this is, for many of you, your first time away from home. The first time living with someone other than your family, the first time living in a brand new city. For many, this is your “fresh start” – a chance to make new friends, find new hobbies, to create the new and improved “you.”

Unlike many of you, this is not my first rodeo – but it feels like it.

Six years ago, I, like many of you, walked onto my first campus with stars in my eyes, high hopes for the future and was ready to take my university by storm. I made lists of every organization I wanted to be a part of, went to welcome events and applied for campus jobs. I sat in the same place during every class, hoping others would, too, so I’d make those new friends. I took the plunge and said “yes” to things I was scared to do, took some classes for fun rather than my major, groaned with everyone else when someone set the fire alarm off in the dorm for the fifth time trying to bake cookies on the stove.

Aside from a few bright moments, I realized university life wasn’t as wonderful as brochures made it seem. Semesters went by before it finally dawned on me that I was just one in a sea of hundreds of faces. Some organizations required teacher recommendations – despite my sitting up front in every class, I never had the need for one-on-ones with my professors, so I felt I’d missed out. By the end of my university career, I could count on one hand the friends I’d made; and unlike many of my peers feeling that university was the best time of their lives, I viewed it as an irritating blip on my timeline, something to get over with as quickly as possible so my fiancé and I could get on with our lives.

Deciding to go back to school, while necessary for my future career, was a long fight with myself I initially felt I’d lost. Filling out the application to Rollins was daunting. What if it was just a repeat of my time at university? But by the time I had my interview, it was clear that my career at Rollins would be anything but.

At the interview, the advisors listened to my goals and gave me practical advice to reach them. Orientation was actually a blast rather than a chore. A professor of philosophy played the Harry Potter theme on the organ in the chapel. Trust me when I say it was absolutely magical. On the first day in my first class, there were only five students enrolled, and because of that, the professor gave us her copies of the textbook so we didn’t have to pay for it. Only one class numbered over 15, whereas in all my years of university, summer semesters included, only one class had less than 20. From the moment I stepped on campus, people, teachers and classmates alike, have only breathed kindness. And while my university flaunted their football team, harassing my parents incessantly for donations, Rollins has no football team, and they don’t need to ask for anything, I’ll gladly give them my money.

I realize now, starting higher education all over again, that you can’t base your college choice on the program you’re going for, the college rating or a friend’s recommendation. Rather, it needs to fit you. You need to court schools like you do a potential spouse, and not settle if you feel you don’t have many other options. I envy those of you who made your first decision this way, but I don’t regret my initial one. After all, it’s only because I made the “wrong” decision the first time that I’ve found myself here.