10 Things I Want to Tell the Incoming College Student

There are hundreds of books and treasuries of wisdom for the first-year college student. Some are full of nostalgia and platitudes, written by people who attended university over a quarter of a century ago, when there was only one phone per hall and it was attached to a wall by a cord. Then there are other more concise accounts of college life that may guide incoming students, but sometimes these accounts are generalized or foment ideas about college life that are somewhat mythical. I have spent a fair amount of time on a college campus: as a student at a small four-year liberal arts college on a hill in western Pennsylvania; as an intern-student on a large private university in Washington, DC; as a part-time evening graduate student on a large private university in Massachusetts; as an adjunct lecturer at a small community college in Massachusetts; as a full-time professor at a small Christian university in Tennessee.

I don't purport to be an expert in higher education or the first year transition, or even to have conducted any research in this area. I simply believe in the importance of higher education, particularly in helping to form an educated person and for directing one's career path. For this reason, I have dedicated a good part of my life to living and/or working in the university setting.

All of these experiences have sharpened my perspective on the transition many young people make to higher learning. I offer these 10 Things I Want to Tell the Incoming College Student not as a distant pundit but as someone who has been up-close in many arenas. This list presumes the incoming student will have graduated high school and matriculated at a college or university within the same year. These are by no means a "final word" on the experience but perhaps a different word than other college viewbooks may offer.

1. Your first semester is a terrible time to enter into a signficant othership. You are lonely and living in a cellblock with someone who is, for all intents and purposes, a stranger, even though you've Facebook messaged a couple of times. You have a lot to adjust to, including eating off a tray for all of your meals and reading more for one class than you may have read in all of high school. Entering into an exclusive dating relationship can be really limiting and can compound the other ways you are trying to adjust. Bear in mind, that person will still (likely) be date-able later in college, but you won't get your first semester back.

Romantisk par, ca. 1917

2. You get to decide who you are in college.

So what if you were the emo-thespian of high school. You aren't bound by that persona for the next four years. Ditch it if you don't want it. Everyone is looking to brand each other during your first semester. Who is really a nice guy? Who is so smart but never has to work for it? Who is promiscuous? Who never showers? You get to make choices around how others perceive you, and much of that is determined by how you perceive yourself.

3. I'm not going to tell you to call your mom. I don't pretend to know what your relationship with your mother is like, or if you have a mother, or if you have several. God knows my relationship with my own mom was dicey in college when I was sure she could not possibly understand the complexity of being 19 years-old. (I was wrong.) I will say, though, that it's a really good thing to call Someone when you need to in college. Sending a text or a tweet or a snapchat is not the same. Hearing a human voice and sharing something joyful or fearful is a staggering thing, even across phonelines. It's a connection that you shouldn't deprive yourself of in college. Call your someone. Do it once a week or once a month. Call. You'll feel better you did.

March 30, 1961

4. Not going to class is a huge liability to yourself. I know students who tabulate their grades based on how few classes they can attend. I hear students talk about "just getting the notes online." I have been asked dozens of times for a recommendation for students whose grades were fine but whose attendance and general enthusiasm for the course material were spotty. When I go to write these recommendations for internships, jobs, grad programs, I tell the truth. I tell future employers that I cannot be completely positive about certain students' abilities to arrive to work on-time or at all, given their lackluster attendance/punctuality for my class(es). I can also almost guarantee that future employers, like professors, do not consider a headache (be it caused by a hangover or otherwise) to be a legitimate medical excuse from showing up for class/work.

Goshen College Coffman Hall men

5.You are responsible for whatever you miss when you are not in class.

(see also: An open letter to the student who wonders if he/she missed something)

6. I have never met someone who wasn't a little bit over Greek life by their final year of school. Take this with a grain of salt as I never rushed Greek. I attended an all-girls high school and felt like I'd already had 800 sorority sisters for 4 years. It has been my view that Greek life affords students a robust social network, great career connections, community service ops, and oftentimes housing. But I think it bears mentioning that most people I have met are tired of paying dues and buying swag bags and stuffing mailboxes with puff-painted paraphernalia by their final year of school. So by all means, talk to the Rho Chis and friends in Greek life, but don't discount the seniors whose stripes have been earned over several years in Delta Tau Delta and Gamma Beta Phi.

Barnard College, 1913  (LOC)

7. Be nice to your RA, and if you can't be nice, at least be tolerant. If you are living in a dorm, you will most likely have an RA who is either overly enthusiastic about hall programming or totally checked out and you can't figure out why he/she was assigned to the Wellness Floor when he/she chainsmokes and subsists off Papa John's. As someone who was an RA for 2.5 years in undergrad: we are trying to pay for school and not have loans until we are on Medicare. We don't want to live with freshmen. We don't mean to be a Nazi about propped doors and there are plenty of other things we'd rather be doing than writing belligerent freshman up for noise violations. It's just we chose this para-professional job because it offered the best financial means along with a dorm room to ourselves. Plus, we are one more person that will eat with you in the dining hall; after all, it's our job.

Ohio State Normal College domestic science class in cooking classroom 1913

8. You cannot outsource learning. You can pay people to do a lot of things for you: get coffee, write your paper, book your spring break trip. You cannot, however, pay someone to learn something for you. You have to do the hard work yourself. Let me be very forthright about this: avoiding classes because they sound hard or because you've heard the professor is difficult? Is total moron territory. College is a time to stretch yourself because you can, to step outside of your comfort zone and dream big dreams and question things you've never questioned before. You will never get a chance to take classes among your peers or to ask the questions of yourself and others such as you will in undergrad. Do not spend $150k+ of your or someone else's money on an experience that does not challenge you. Save it for a downpayment on a house in a safe neighborhood, and put aside some extra for a fence and alarm system so you will never feel threatened.

9. Consider studying abroad. If you think you might want to study abroad, you should start planning for it now, financially and credit-wise. You don't get to backpack through Europe on a student visa, sleeping in hostels and eating at Indian buffets when you are 38 with 3 kids. Trust.

10. Try to stick it out. If you are considering a transfer to another school during or after your first semester because the college you chose is not what you thought it would be, remember this: if you leave, you're still leaving with yourself. Take a long look at whether the things causing you dissatisfaction are things within your control or beyond your control. Are the things you expect to be better elsewhere things that you hope for or things that you know will be different? Believe it or not, there are an awful lot of good people rooting for you to succeed at this school where you've landed, whose very jobs are designed to help you succeed. Transferring is not a sign of weakness or indiscretion, but so much of life depends on our own choices, big and small, and our every day choices (e.g. to ask for help, to try something new) shape our lives more than any singular class, roommate, advisor, sports team, long winter, or flight home can and do.

Best wishes to the Class of 2018.

Yogurt Girl and Scone Girl and me

A couple of weeks ago, I was in Tennessee, paying for my self-serve yogurt and the cashier did that thing where she prolonged the transaction for A WHOLE 4 SECONDS. She paused to verify my phone number for the rewards program. It took four seconds. In that four seconds, the gal in line behind me sighed loudly and, in protest to this four seconds to which she felt entitled to not be waiting in line behind me, plucked a blueberry or a chocolate chip or probably a piece of Cinnamon Toast Crunch (because this yogurt place is crazy like that) and ate it. Without paying for it. Because, forget capitalism, to heyyyy'all with honesty, zap it all to zero because how could you make me wait in line with this Cinnamon Toast Crunch that doesn't even melt for four more seconds of my life when I could have spent it paying for it? Or who knows, if I had that four seconds back, I could possibly have been inventing a way for frozen yogurt to not melt so fast or I could have developed an app for legal line-skipping. Imagine the possibilities!! Jane Thompson AKA Gordon

***

Yesterday, I was in Ohio for my sister's wedding shower and I was standing at the counter of a cafe paying for my latte and scone. I ordered the chocolate and hazelnut scone because it sounded life-changing.

"Oh! You got the last one!" said the gal waiting behind me in line. She asked the cashier if they were going to make more, because she really seemed desperate for that scone. I suppose a nicer person could have just let her have the scone, but I am spending too much in therapy to not assert what I really want sometimes, even if it's a complex carbohydrate that I don't really need.

Then, the gal behind me said, "Ugh, I really wanted that scone!" and I kid you not, she actually stuck her tongue out at me.

Mrs. Winsor McCay  (LOC)

***

Let the record state: I prefer the tongue sticker-outer infinitely more than I do the loud sigher. I will almost always favor the overt rather than the oblique. I prize the courageous one who will say it (or stick it) to my face, versus passive aggressively shoving it in their mouths in protest. The variable here is age, as I would presume the sighing lady was at least ten years my junior. The tongue lady was presumably my age or older. The one who sneaks and the one who sticks out--the range of their ages is not as great as the range of their behaviors.

I am generalizing here, but the above behaviors represent the two regions where I have lived. By showing two incidents where indignation flared while waiting in line to pay for food, I have witnessed the North and South, respectively. In the South, one rarely confronts. One steams in private and then, after composing oneself, one will address the matter if necessary. In the North, people will generally look you in the eye and say what they feel. I am a daughter of the North, largely the folksy Midwest but I borrow the assertiveness of New England, and this makes me a misfit here in the land of the peacekeepers and the watercooler whisperers. And yet, as much as I wanted to stick my tongue out at the yogurt girl, the South has taught me to reign it in, to move along, to deal with it later when I am not feeling so Northern confrontational about it. Bless my little heart.

Finer Niner

This is not a typical anniversary post, but a truthful one. John and I were poor candidates to get married. Not for the reasons you might expect: race, culture, religion--these are all factors we have had to grapple with and sometimes reconcile. But the problem is that when you get together at 19, 21 respectively, your brains are not yet fully formed. When you get married at 24, 26 respectively, you might think that marriage is all about *you.* At least that was the case for me. I honestly perceived marriage as "you do your thing over there, I'll do mine over here, and we'll come together and talk about it over an overpriced dinner in a hipster neighborhood." I have learned that marriage is actually about sharing everything, offering a window on your soul to another, sorting through the garbage and the fecal matter to find the prized jewel of commonality, of mutual respect. In this marriage, I have encountered the most profound grace, the love not earned but given undeservedly. My mister and I have experienced soaring highs over the birth of our children and the community of friends and family who have supported us. We have also experienced the deepest valleys: depression, financial hardship, family pain. Through it all, and I know you were all waiting for this one, God has been so faithful, reminding us so kindly that marriage is preparing us for Heaven, where joy is multiplied, where selfish needs are set aside, where our focus is fixed on the stuff eternal.

There are moments in this marriage that could not be auto-tinted with Instagram filters to showcase the glamour and shadow the pain. This marriage has been made of raw moments, brilliant and unapologetic in living color. This marriage is not a clever hashtag, summarized in a retweetable aphorism or a Live, Laugh, Love print bought at Homegoods. In the conventions of Facebook, yes I sure did marry my best friend 9 years ago this week. And I would do it again, knowing all that I know now, and all that I do not yet know. I look forward to getting together with my sweet mister to talk about it all, even if the dinner is cheap, even if the restaurant is not trendy. We'll order different things, but ultimately it doesn't matter because I'll always have what he's having: all the joy, all the pain, and a happy ending sundae for dessert.

July 31, 2005