Buckle down, listen up -- now that I'm ten days old into the college experience, and thus completely and totally qualified to speak definitively about it, here is everything I now know to be true about attending a higher-level learning institution in the United States:
On Jumping With No Net
I was surprisingly unprepared for how drastically and immediately college pulls the rug out from underneath your feet. After move-in day, when your parents pile into a car and drive away, and you're left alone, surrounded by strangers you have literally never seen before, in a brand new city you don't understand, the truth starts to sink in: this is my life now.
Which isn't to say there's no support -- all of Orientation at our school was dedicated to convincing us that the University cared about our personal well-being (they don't) and that they have resources to support our professional development and mental health (they do). But it's a bunch of new support: a new friend group, a new RA, a new geography to get used to; and all your old support: your friends, family, modes of transport, living space, comfort items, home-cooked food, and more are stripped from you within the span of twenty-four hours. It's jarring.
Being the sheltered and spoiled child I am, this leap meant other things, too: for example, I had to learn how to do the laundry, dragging my hamper across three floors to find the laundromat. I attempted to figure out public transportation (a foreign concept to all native Detroit-ians), and wound up on a bus headed for the airport. I got lost trying to walk back from the University Center to my dorm room -- a distance of 0.2 miles.
All this to say: you will figure it out. Of all the reasons people leave college, not being able to adjust to the location is rarely one of them. Nonetheless, I want to validate how scary and isolating it feels to have nobody but yourself to befriend, even surrounded with as many people as you are.
On Exhaustion and Desperation
Orientation, at least at my school, is the kind of event that leaves you bone-deep drained. We had events from 7am to 10pm daily for a week, each event requiring more social energy than the last. And when you're worn-out and ready to hit the sheets, floormates text in newly formed group chats about going to midnight parties at the campus across town. FOMO and a desperation to fit in will usually result in you saying yes, which contributes to equally as many positive experiences as negative ones.
From this I have learned: this desperation fades. You find people you like, and if you don't, have faith that you will eventually. First week friends are vital for getting through this transitional phase -- especially considering that all these social orientation events are impossible to survive without a buddy. But they're also just that -- first week only. Fleeting. You'll quickly realize that the people you desperately clung to -- out of convenience and proximity -- are not the only people you are capable of befriending on campus. They might not even be people you are capable of befriending, after all.
I, luckily, met some pretty great people during my orientation week. And considering that most of them are my floormates, I'm stuck being friends with them for the rest of the academic year at least. But still: don't be afraid to do things alone, to wander around campus by yourself, to not fear solitude. It is, quite possibly, the only hack I know to combat the exhaustion.
On Academia Complexes (an addendum)
I wrote about the MIAE+ Complex in my last blogpost (a personal favorite, if you'll allow me to shamelessly self-plug). Allow me to add an observation I've made in the past ten days to that:
1. Our university grants amnesty to any student who calls emergency services in situations of overdose. Essentially, if Person A and Person B go out (underage) drinking, and Person B appears to overdose, both parties are excused from criminal charges provided that Person A calls ambulatory services and stays with Person B until authorities show up. This is a fantastic program -- it encourages young adults to make life-saving decisions without considering selfish consequences. There's just one catch: in order to obtain amnesty, you're not allowed to call 911.
Instead, the university has us all save the Campus Police Department's phone number into our contacts, thus calling campus employees in cases of emergency instead of governmental ones. They warn us again and again: if you want amnesty, don't call 911. Call your RA if you forget the Campus PD's number. Just don't call the government.
If this reads like the university coercing and manipulating their students into calling in-house services instead of governmental ones (that would likely report data on the university's overdose records), that's because it is. In a state where two other flagship state universities have been investigated by the government for their toxic hazing and alcohol culture, isn't it interesting that my college takes deliberate efforts to conceal their overdose data by processing all cases internally (through biased systems) instead of involving neutral third parties? I sure think so.
I, unfortunately, had to call Campus Emergency Services this morning, when my roommate fainted in the bathroom (not because of drugs). Instead of mature and trained professionals, I was greeted by several graduate students in scrubs, definitely getting paid nothing more than minimum wage (and perhaps a tuition rebate). They were not qualified to provide any medical diagnoses, and their "examination" of the patient in question consisted of only a blood pressure and heart rate check. When we decided to take our roommate to the hospital to evaluate for any concussions, Campus Emergency Services had no vehicles to transport her in. We had to call an Uber.
All this to say: one could argue it is more efficient to use Campus Services for campus-related problems, seeing as they know the student body and geography better than the general government emergency services. The unspoken assumption here is that both services are equally trained and equipped. But even this is not the case: Campus EMS is underpaid, overworked (considering that they're full-time students in addition to being on the first-response team), and frankly, unqualified to be providing the kind of care they may need to. EMS Practitioners aren't RAs -- it's not as simple as a few weeks of training in August before the school-year begins. If the university is so desperate to cut corners that they can't be bothered to invest in the safety of their student body (and we are directly instructed NOT to call any other authorities), then...
I don't know.* All I know is this seems like a decision that can only be made by parties so wholly convinced they have utmost power. Which they do.
And Finally, On Growth
I have grown more in this past week than I have in the entire summer preceeding it. Which is to say: you enter college an entirely different person than you are in it, than you are out of it. The ever-extended permission to change is one not often granted in life, so if you're here, take advantage of it. Say yes to everything you want to do, no matter how stupid it might make you look. Don't give everyone access to you: value peace more than attention. Set goals, then manifest them. Learn your limits, then push them.
Or don't -- what do I know? I'm only ten days into this whole thing.
*On privacy: part of the amnesty program is also that the university will not report any incidents to parents or rehab clinics. This, too, is to gain trust with the students, but it does present an interesting paradox: with this, they are simultaneously telling us that they trust us enough to know when we need rehab/when to tell our parents/how to take care of our bodies and health, while also telling us that they know we wouldn't choose to save our friend's life in an emergency situation without the guarantee that no charges will be pressed against us.
This is a common paradox presented to us with privacy issues amongst college students: FERPA requires that universities not reveal any information (such as grades, activity, etc.) to the parents or guardians of any enrolled student. Which means that all motivation and discipline to study and succeed in college is entirely student-driven, because the parents could potentially be locked out of knowing how their child is doing. At the same time, our floor kitchens don't allow toasters, because if gluten-free students use a toaster that has bread crumbs still in it, they are potentially at risk. So while we are trusted to monitor our entire lives independently, we aren't mature enough yet to know how to avoid the foods we are allergic to.
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