Along with seemingly the entire first-year class, I travel to O-Hill every Monday and Wednesday. As I stand in the line, which pretty much backs all the way to Alderman Road, I focus on two things - avoiding eye contact with tablers and eavesdropping on first-year conversations.
Last Wednesday, while I listened to the latest dormcest updates from the first-year roommates in front of me, I contemplated my feelings toward their entire class. I've always been transparent about my feelings toward the darling firsties. Just to be clear, I've never met a first year I didn't like - well at least not solely for his class standing. But there's something about first years' enthusiasm that rubs my jaded soul the wrong way. Yet as I stood in line with a thousand first years in front of me, I began wondering if I'm really so different from them.
In terms of academics, I have matured. I've picked a major. I'm more focused. I have a much better idea of where I excel and where I struggle. I know more of the kids in my classes. I've learned that reviews on The Course Forum do actually matter, and a great professor is irreplaceable. If college were all about school, I'd say yeah, I've got the first years beat. But the greatest thing about college is that it isn't all about school.
It's clich
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