My First Year
Change is a word that has several different meanings to several different individuals. Change is good, change is scary, and most of all change is a step into the unknown. For every new freshman college is a drastic change; a change for the best or a change for the worst. There are so many unknowns and so many doubts a first year student experiences as they step into this new place called home. My first year thus far has encompassed all of these feelings; the excitement, the fear, and the unknown. This is my transition from high school to college; my experiences, my fears, and the beginning of adulthood.
High school sucked, I felt like I was in a prison of repetition and predictability for four years. I wore the same uniforms and saw the same people for the last four years in my cliquey private school. By the end of senior year I was so ready to leave my hometown and start somewhere fresh where no one knew me.
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I was so excited for college and could not wait for August to come around. I packed all of my belongings and said good-bye to all of my high school friends and my cat. On the drive down I could not stop thinking about how different college was going to be, what my roommates would be like, where my classes were, and how much fun I was about to have. After my parent and my brother moved me into my dorm and said their last good-byes I felt an instant feeling of freedom. Freedom to do what I wanted and a freedom to make my own choices, good or bad.
The first weekend went by so quick with meeting so many new people and really living on my own. One of the first things I did was buy a pack of cigarettes and smoked one in my friend’s car, freedom at last. The weekend was so much fun I was dreading classes to start; I was not even sure where my classes were! My first class was at eleven; nothing compared to the 7:45 a.m. in high school, and was nothing short of shocking to be in a class with two hundred students. After the first week of college, I realized how different it was from high school. In College no one cared whether or not you showed up, flunked, or studied at all. Nobody cared if I went out on the weekdays before my 8 a.m. or even showed up to class at all. I was on my own, and was only motivated to receive a higher education so one, my parents were not disappointed in me and two, so I can work somewhere other than McDonalds.
I remember when I went back home for the first time. It was Thanksgiving break and my house looked completely different. When I first walked in I felt like I had not been there for years. After a couple days of being home I almost felt as though I had never left though, and was so bored I could not believe that I had spent eighteen years of my life living there. I felt bad for my friends who went to Kennesaw and went home every weekend, I felt as though they had been missing out on the full “college experience.” I had so much more experience with the crazy partying at my school and going out on weekdays I felt as though I needed to share it with them. I felt like a different person when I came back home, like I was now one of those college girls that I always saw in my older friends who came back from college during breaks. I had experienced everything I was hoping to experience in college and so much more.