“Coolllleeggee!!” The image that immediately pops into mind is a vision of ivy-covered arches, wood-paneled scholarly libraries, and Animal House-style keggers. The reality is, of course, a bit of the fantasy and a bit of the unexpected. Four years ago at our freshman convocation when we all crammed into the Field House before saying goodbye to our parents over Ted Drewes, Dean McLeod said something that I have often thought about since then. He said that we should take a good look around us because in four years we would leave this place not recognizing who we were when we arrived.
I thought this was impossible. I was smart, self-assured, eighteen – and, after all, I was a college student. I knew about life, love, and tragedy and was ready to face anything – or so I thought. A few days ago we all went back to revisit our freshman floors. How we ever survived that experience remains a mystery. We lived in cramped rooms without privacy, we stayed up late, we drank too much, we ate too much, we went to class, we learned we didn’t have to go to class, we loved our roommates, we hated our roommates, we somehow managed to do our work, and we loved every minute of it. It was such a novelty. We were away from our parents in the “real world,” and the next four years felt like an eternity of opportunity. And yet I remember very little of the details. Everything was just so exciting, and every experience was new.
My current roommate, who also lived on my freshman floor, reflected on sophomore year by describing it as being like seventh grade. You’re into the swing of things and you think you’ve got the whole system figured out. You’re sure you’re cool and hot, even though you still live on campus, and you are right in the thick of it all – so much so that you don’t realize where you’re headed or what is passing you by. You cannot imagine what it would be like not to live this life or that one day you will not be a college student – or, worse, that you may one day not want to be a college student. You go to parties in the sophomore suites and make your way off campus, you find a fake ID which is promptly taken from you, and if you still live on the 40, you continue to gain the freshman fifteen.
Junior year is the beginning of the end. You get that itch for the first time that tells you that one day you might actually want to leave college and you begin to think more and more about the post-WU life. But you’re still not ready. Those who really need a break head overseas and go abroad for a semester or a year and come back ready to enjoy the precious time they have left. I thought I was ready to leave forever, but then I thought back to that immortal feeling I had as a freshman and realized that I hadn’t done everything I set out to do…most of which will never get done at all.
Senior year is a blur. How we got here and where the last three years went is beyond me. We all worked hard and tried to think about the future. Some of us have jobs. Others are still looking, and some have given up thinking about it because frankly, it is too scary. Either way, by second semester, work transforms into play and it all goes downhill. You look around you and wonder if you did it right. Did you take advantage of all those endless opportunities? Did you fulfill all your goals? Did you spend your time wisely? These are supposed to be “the best years of your life.” But then again, people said that about high school, and we’ve all managed to survive without that. I don’t buy this argument. People say the best is yet to come, and I hate to be clich‚, but there is a reason people say that, you know? These four years are definitely about the college experience, but it still isn’t the real deal. Our entire lives have been preparation for what is about to come, and we are all about to be unleashed into another sea of endless opportunities.
This week, as we again cram into the Field House, Dean McLeod will, of course, be right. We are not the same people we were four years ago. Simply put, we grew up. And it wasn’t easy. College is hard work, it’s emotionally trying, and it’s full of difficult experiences. I was having lunch with a friend a few days ago and I said something to the effect of “When I grow up, blah blah blah.” He laughed, then looked at me and said, “What are you talking about? You’re there!”