I was walking out of Kappa Alpha, the dorm I had been staying in, ready to move out for the rest of the summer. As a rising frosh who had just stayed up until 5 a.m. the night before, my disheveled appearance was probably laughable. Not to mention that I was carrying a huge bag of linens to be returned. In short, my usual awkwardness was only amplified.

But as I walked outside I was greeted with a smile from my RF - a brilliant, talented, striking PhD student in Materials Science and Engineering. She is in fact the embodiment of cool. She asked what I was doing, and when I told her she said in her casual yet helpful way, “Oh, you want me to drive you? My car’s right there”.

Day instantly made.

Think about this scenario. A 26-year-old PhD student at Stanford offers me, a lowly frosh, a ride in her car to save me some walking. WHAT?! You can only imagine my internal dialogue:

“Ok Bri - be cool”

“Wow she sounds so smart”

“She’s such a good driver”

“I can’t believe she’s actually talking to me!”

“Oh no she asked me a question. Be cool!”

This might be a slight exaggeration, but definitely not by much. This idea of being cool fascinated me. What was it that made my RF so cool, for example? Was it her level of education and knowledge that so impressed me? Her demeanor? Her style or outfit choice? Her car? Her radiant smile and her nerdy yet totally chic glasses?

All of these things certainly contributed to how much I admired my RF. But I’d venture to say that how cool she was went deeper than that. Maybe what I thought was so cool is that despite how brilliant, how attractive and how accomplished my RF was, she was offering help to a nervous, overexcited frosh. Maybe it was that one day, when I was perhaps in a situation where people looked up to me, I could be like my RF and make their day.

So what would I suggest if you want frosh to think you’re genuinely cool? I would say to act like my RF; she was the coolest person I had ever met because she treated me like I was cool, too.