With summer lulling to a close, back-to-school time lurks around every pool day and long-forgotten summer reading assignment. On the cusp of a new school year, there is always the inevitable: Anticipation, that churning "what was I thinking?" feeling when you see your class schedule, and, of course, a blast of those "what I wish I'd known as a freshman" lists.
These lists serve as reminders: Time flies by, and you're on the threshold of The Next Great Chapter of Your Life. Probably just three short months and a little summer haze ago, you were raising your hand to ask to go to the bathroom. Now, it is time to decide on your future. Right now.
All over the world, there are starry-eyed students packing their bags ready to maneuver themselves into a world of syllabuses and toga parties. They have found the place they feel they belong--at least for the time being. Though nervous, they're eager, flipping pages, skipping ahead to that Next Great Chapter like a kid with Harry Potter fighting to out-read bedtime.
All over the world, there are students whose minds go blank and stomachs slosh every time they get asked that inescapable inquiry: "Where are you going to college?" These students aren't just nervous--they are flat-out questioning, wondering why they aren't excited. They are the ones moving things into their dorms wondering: "What am I doing here?"
I know these students exist because I was one.
When we talk about college, the "when-and-if-you're-ready" part is obliterated from the conversation. Somehow, we manage to squeeze this part in to every other conversation we have with young adults--sex, relationships, jobs, apartments. But when it comes to college, silence is loud: The "when" is easy, your senior year when applications become your new favorite hobby, and the "if" never happens at all.
I was a good student in high school. I held jobs since I was fifteen, was dedicated to my extracurriculars, made great grades. I also applied to about twenty colleges. To this day, I'm slightly humiliated to type that number. By conservative estimate, the application fees to these schools totaled $1,000--at least half of which I paid for myself. It took me four years to realize these weren't the actions of a scatter-brained kid who longed to be bicoastal. They were the result of someone who was very, very scared.
I never had that moment on a campus where I felt like I belonged. I never had a dream school. It seemed as though everyone else couldn't wait to embark on that Next Great Chapter, and I was off in a different book.
My first year of college was traditionally successful. It was also miserable. Since then, I've had internships, gotten a job, left school, gone back to school, and even--gasp!--dream of pursuing graduate school. But what happened in between mattered, not just for me, but for every unsure student.
So, in the spirit of lists, here is what I wish I had known as a freshman:
1. Slow down. Try things.
Sometimes, we go to college because we're high school seniors with good grades and no criminal record, and that's what we do. We go because what else would we do? Turns out, we can do a lot. Unfortunately, we forget about it because there's nowhere to squeeze it in on the Common App.
College is not going to disappear. Such a cliché thing to tell a young person, I know. Contrary to what the world around you is spewing: You. Have. Time. Take it. Don't rush it. Just because you turn eighteen and can now go to the bathroom sans permission doesn't mean you should sprint to the nearest university, snag some school spirit, and hand them thousands.
Whether you go to college or not, you are worthy. Whether your ventures involve college or not, there are things that are worthy of you trying them.
2. Your path may look really different. Follow it anyway.
I was terrified that A) if I didn't go to college, I would be a failure, and B) that I was a weirdo. Today, I'm happy to report I'm not a failure and only a moderate weirdo. We HAVE to shatter this idea that there is only one "right" path to education. To paraphrase Whitman, education contains multitudes. I wish I could tell myself that those "years off" of college would be the most educational of my life. I wish I could tell myself not to be ashamed--to follow your own path as fearlessly (and as early) as you can.
3. It is okay to adjust.
After I had left school, and come to the conclusion that returning to college--at least in some form--was the right move for me, I was uncomfortable. I thought it meant I had wasted time. No: You may leave school. You may switch schools. And all are part of this process. Quit viewing life in chapters, including Next Great ones. It is a continuous story. Don't be afraid to keep writing.
Some people love college. They're excited for college, and I'm happy for them, because I believe everyone ought to be excited about whatever it is they're learning. However, some students do everything listed in the brochure, from joining Greek Life to taking classes they're interested in, and somehow, they fall through the cracks. They are unfulfilled.
And that's okay.
We have to bring individuality back into learning: Gap years, trade schools, internships, and jobs are all valuable. So is college, if it is right for you. But in a world where everything, from our Twitter profiles to our cars, is personalized...why are we still clinging to the one-size-fits-all college ideal?
To the freshmen in school and out: You've got this, and whatever chapter of your book you're in, I hope you learn something spectacular.