week of 5/7/03
 
 
 

Ruminations on college and the joy of graduation
SMN
As of press time, the countdown has diminished to a mere three days. I’ve been waiting exactly eight semesters, which is nearly four years, 40 months and roughly 800 days. Why the countdown, you ask? It’s simple, my friends. There are only three days keeping me from graduation day at Western Carolina University, Saturday, May 10, at 2 p.m.

Ah yes. It seems like only yesterday when Mom and Dad helped me unload my worldly possessions into a cubicle dorm room that barely contained the three of us. I remember walking around like a shivering Chihuahua, not knowing where anything was except for the food court. My first day of college classes saw me wandering in the opposite direction of the building where I needed to be, and I am eternally grateful to that girl who graciously ferried me to that building courtesy of her car.

Gradually, I came to know and love the girls living on my hall. Some partied day and night while others filled the study rooms hoping for that elusive A. I remember not studying for my first test in college and not being happy with the big, red 48 written at the top of it. This was my first indication that college was not at all the breeze high school had been. This college “thing” was going to take a lot more than just a brief glimpse at class notes, I decided.

Sadly, I was among the minority of my fellow freshman who early on realized the benefits of studying. Coming back from Christmas vacation, it was hard not to notice all the empty rooms. Some took their party somewhere else, some decided that the great WCU was not, in fact, for them, and others seemed to just vanish into thin air. So much for all the friends I had made.

Sophomore year arrived with a sense of hope lingering in the air. I had made the gigantic move off campus and out of closet-like dorm rooms and sleepless, noisy nights, temperamental showers, and shower shoes. (God only knows what lurks on those shower floors!) Now I was a commuter. Adjusting to commuter life was a shock. For one, punctuality flew out the door. With an ever-decreasing amount of commuter parking, students in cars have been known to circle parking lots for hours, praying that a car will vacate the premises now. Altogether, that year left me feeling defeated. Boring and uneventful, (oddly enough, sophomore year in high school was also forgetful) it dragged on, while I doggedly counted down the remaining days in the school year.

To be a junior is the best place to be. At last, at last, we get to take classes that are in our major! We’re upperclassmen, and that means one thing: uh, that we’re cooler than freshmen and sophomores. My junior year was filled with working on the newspaper staff, annoying businesses with my relentless begging for jobs (it worked!) and finally mastering the art of finding a parking spot. If you follow someone to a car, they will usually get into it and leave. The biggest and best thing I remember about my junior year was that there was no sense of urgency. Juniors don’t really have to start looking for jobs or worry about graduating. We were all just content and happy where we were.

Senior year beats junior year, hands down. If you scheduled it right, you’re taking easy-as-pie classes, going to parties, starting your day at noon and living it up! And why not? We’re seniors!

On the flip side, seniors have to graduate, find jobs and maintain a sense of sanity in the process. Seniors are usually torn between wanting to take it easy their last year or focusing hard on the fast-approaching real world. Where did the time go?

All in all, it’s been a long, strange and fun four years here at Western Carolina University. I couldn’t have picked a better location to, well, better myself. I don’t regret any choices I’ve made, bad or good, because I know they, and WCU, helped make me a better person for it.

I’ve got a younger brother here at Western; he’s a freshman, and eagerly anticipating the years to come. I just hope that when he watches me walk across that stage clad in a dark, polyester gown and funny hat, he will realize all it took to get to that point. And I know that if Chancellor Bardo mispronounces my name, I am going to absolutely scream! After four years, I think I’ve earned it.