Our Fresh Frosh columnists will be spending the year documenting their transition from high school to Northwestern life. Check out all four of our writers — and read their stories.
A typical night: I sit at my desk, vainly trying to churn out a six page paper for my freshman seminar, as I seem to do every night. Nearby my roommate grinds her teeth, murmurs and smiles in her sleep. I glare at her unconscious form and tap at my keyboard as loudly as possible, pretending that the letter “T” is my professor’s face.
Five hours before, on the same day: I am whipped back and forth along the baseline by the entire club tennis team.
Morning of the same day: I slave away at math homework for half an hour, then rush from class to class, trying to remember each instructor’s words long enough to scribble them down onto paper. From copious amounts of experience, I know that the split second it takes to flip to a blank page can cost you at least six words and at most, an entire profound statement. Chances are you’re going to be required to write a six page paper on that specifically mentioned concept, too.
I wasn’t always this cynical (or this busy). I remember myself, the summer before college started, thinking about all the As and the world-changing, inspiring things I was going to accomplish once I spread my wings and left the sheltered suburb of Clovis, California. Disillusionment quickly settled in.
From the first day of Wildcat Welcome I was overwhelmed; eager to participate in every campus event, I found myself scrambling to and fro, eventually collapsing into my bed at the end of the day with nothing to speak for my day’s work except exhaustion. My plan of joining an a cappella group was thwarted when I missed tryouts, and I have yet to find a job. My academic course load, which didn’t sound so intimidating at the beginning of the school year, has taken over my life (cue evil laughter). Needless to say, my fall quarter has not met my expectations.
But even as I express these disappointments to my mom over Skype video chat, I feel pride in my meager accomplishments. I brag to my sister about making the club tennis team, promising to deliver a quick and painless defeat upon my return to Clovis for winter break. My dad relates his criticism and praise of my North by Northwestern articles, sometimes even quoting specific lines. And everyday I pride myself on growing closer to who I want to become.
Although I have never been an optimistic person, I am gradually becoming more appreciative of what I do have instead of sulking over what I don’t. I take the little things in my life that make me happy and expand on them. For example, yesterday my roommate and I feng-shuied our dorm room. I scored a B plus on my Intro to Fiction midterm and successfully used Northwestern’s shuttle system for the first time without getting lost. While tasks like these may seem menial, they have become quite significant to me.
As for feeding the hungry in Haiti, single-handedly devising a solution to pollution and getting straight As in all my classes? That can all wait until next quarter.