Hi.
So you’re going to college. You’re a little bit nervous—that’s to be expected—and more than nervous, you’re excited, excited to meet new people, to learn new things, to expand your life in thousand different, random directions. You’ve heard from those who have made the journey before you how you should be excited, how the next four years will be the most vibrant and riveting years of your life. You’re skeptical at this sort of comment because you’ve heard it so often, because like Bob Seger, the quintessential ‘been-there’ adults are always regretting the past, how it’s gone, how things trend forward. Ain’t it funny how the night moves?
Before you trek—maybe alone—through the first year of your college experience, check out the following 10 suggestions designed to get you through those first few weeks. It’s cakewalk after that (although number 7 is atemporal and universally applicable and you should never forget that one).
- Learn the way. You’re gonna get there before classes start, obviously, so spend a day walking your route from dorm to class to class to class to dorm. 7am at Cedarville University, August 26, 2006, I sat down in Fundamentals of Beekeeping looking for Fundamentals of Speech. That’s the sort of mistake you can’t admit, so I sat through syllabus day counting the minutes and learning the jejune, mundane reproductive habits of bees. I did hear that before he published the most significant post-1945 American novel, Catcher in the Rye, author JD Salinger had studied beekeeping in college, before he dropped out. That’s the most significant thing I learned that morning (I hope it’s true), and that one should plan her or his route.
- Pay attention on syllabus day. First day of class is always syllabus day, and it’s the closest your professor will come to giving you the answers (unless you’re headed to Boston U, or any other school notorious for significant grade inflation). When your prof goes through the due dates and deadlines, write them down (a week or so before they’re due so you’re not cramming the night before). Buy one of those trendy school calendars from your bookstore and write the assignments—at least the big ones—in the calendar as your prof drones on.
- Be bold. I’m lacking in this category. I was too proud, or too embarrassed, or too something anyway, to interact with the other Cedarville students when I first arrived on campus back in ’06. I felt that way for four years, and it was a lonely time because of it. On your first day, even if it’s not your personality, be outgoing. That’ll go a long way in the vibrant-and-diverse-group-of-friends department. It’s important, in life more generally, to be social. That’s the most important lesson I learned in college, a lesson I’m still learning, still trying to pin down, to reify. (Look it up! It’s an SAT word, I swear!)
- Meal plan. Look, I know what you’re thinking. It’s really dumb that the school forces us to buy meal plans. Yeah. It is. I’m a Boulder Marxist like the rest of us beneath the mountain, and I too recognize how the bourgeois dogs on the tip-top of the Superstructure trap us in their webs of financial networks. One hand washes the other. But it doesn’t matter, because the meal plan really is the cheapest way to live, on and off campus, and when you don’t have it you’re spending 8 bucks a day on Chipotle (of course) and another $15 on whatever else you need to eat. It adds up. If you’re disciplined enough to cook despite your busy workload, good for you. Next step is to buy local and then you’re really sticking it to those capitalist/futurist neocons running the country from Silicon Valley through lobbyists and corporate personhood.
- Call your parents. They’re gonna look after you. When you’re lonely or anxious or out of money … or whatever, call your parents. You’re beginning a phase in your life where your parents aren’t the authoritative figures anymore. You stand in a unique position to launch and foster a deep and long-lasting friendship with your parents. When I was lonely at Cedarville on a Friday night, I called my mom. Or she’d call me. That was the start of different kind of relationship, one which I still depend on to sustain me through the lonely days of a new environment.
- Try new things. Do things you’ve never done before. Skydive.
- Don’t get married. Yeah. Same old cynicism. I knew seven different girls at Cedarville who dropped out when they got engaged. Admittedly, that sort of sensibility is much more prevalent throughout Cedarville’s Evangelical Christian community, but it’s worth mentioning. The most important thing you can take from your college experience is, first, your degree, and second, your education (another confusing value hierarchy inscribed in our collective consciousness by the bourgeoisie and its institutions; education is free; a degree costs something). On that parenthetical note, marriage is another institution used by the Superstructure to maintain passivity. Rebel! Don’t marry! Viva la revoluciĆ³n!
- Enjoy the little things. Watch Zombieland, also.
- Overwork. I can’t stand it when people say ‘don’t push yourself too hard; you’ll burn out’. You might burn out. Fine. That’s educational too. Push yourself too hard and see what you’re capable of. I burned out 1st semester senior year, which was great. My GPA reflects it. Start strong and coast to the finish. It’s better to burn out than to fade away. Listen to Neil Young.
- Visit home. Remind yourself where you came from, what you used to know, who you used to be. This is important to navigating the mire of the future, too. Read Joyce Carol Oates’ short story “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been” (only the title, not the content, is applicable here, but it’s a blow-away short story and you’d be missing out should you neglect to read it).
And of course I love you all,
Michael