"And
just like that, my first year of college is done (before you ask, I'm
on trimesters). It's been a rollercoaster of a year; multiple deaths,
ample amounts of stress, homework, heartbreak, and a new environment.
However, despite all the cynicism I spew and jabs I take at North
Central College, the next four years will, at the very least, be an
interesting experience. "It can't get much worse" is the new motto #GoMode."
"I got a list full of problems, I'll attend to 'em later; man, life is a bitch, but I appreciate her!" - Lil Wayne, "Bill Gates"
NOTE: For further elaboration on my fall term, winter term, and even my thoughts before entering college, read my previous blogs at the following links:
In what, despite numerous events, feels like a blink-and-you-miss-it affair, my first year of college has concluded. Any prolific (or, perhaps, "long-suffering") reader or follower of my work knows that this first year lived up to its hype as a year of adjustments, changes in environment, social developments, and more. For a brief refresher, I attend North Central College, a private liberal arts school in Illinois, double-majoring in English and Interactive Media Studies, working on a trimester system. Would you like fries with that?
My fall term was largely dominated by getting used to the drive to school, roughly twenty-five minutes away from my home, the rigor of the classes, the layout of the school (with an only mile-long campus, there's desperately little to really get used to), and the people I would try and associate with. I took speech communications, college algebra, a mandatory introductory course, and an advanced English class billed as "cities and cinema" this term. I concluded the term just before Thanksgiving with a 3.7 GPA, the highest GPA I've ever merited.
My winter term began about five days after I concluded my fall term, for I took an optional interim class over winter break. It was an introductory mass media course five days a week for three hours in the morning, for three weeks, ending just before Christmas. I loved the course and wished it was a full, ten-week long course. After about a two week period off, I officially began my winter term, taking quantitative reasoning (a math course), introduction to sociology, and religion and ethics in film. I ended the term with a 3.5 GPA.
Finally, we have my spring term. Equipped with a full mind, recovering from the multitude of sadness that I felt following my winter term, I still tried to enter spring term as optimistic as possible. I took introduction to American government, creative writing, and an English class called "style," examining different writing styles that ran for three and a half hours in the evening every Tuesday. I only attended classes twice a week, just like in winter term. Right off the bat, style was a seriously interesting class that came with exterior benefits. Tuesdays would be my longest day, leaving for school at 8am, attending the two aforementioned classes before leaving at about 4pm, going home quickly to get something resembling a formal meal, before returning back to school at 6:15pm and leaving at 10pm.
The drive home at 10pm was wonderful. My drive is largely residential, only passing a few major intersections, so it was consistently quiet and peaceful, as well as often accompanied by the sounds of Brooks & Dunn (a duo who's musical catalog I've almost entirely heard and reviewed over the last few months). Moreover, style was a great class because you really got a rich experience every time you went to it. With three and a half hours to kill, a great deal of material was covered and thought-provoking insights were shared amongst a class composed of men and women of all different majors (not just the obligatory English or creative writing). I have a portfolio of my work from the class that I will potentially release on this blog in bits and pieces at a later date.
Creative writing was also an interesting class. It was structured similarly to style, which was very workshop-oriented and driven by student participation and the discussion of student-written pieces. Creative writing also helped me tackle fiction writing, an area of writing I had never done prior to the class. I had a published author by the name of Zachary Michael Jack for the professor, who was incredibly relaxed, wildly knowledgeable, and wickedly humble. He never mentioned his published works in class unless they were brought up by classmates; I'd have a difficult time being that humble. Never did he feel the need to affirm his credentials or insist that one route of writing worked over another in the publishing business. He was so for personal expression that I'm sure he'd be sickened with himself if he did such a thing.
I wound up writing three fiction pieces for the class, "Free Will," an allegory concerning one teenager's decision to deviate from normalcy, "Maybe You Should've Just Stayed Home Today," an unconventional story of a school shooter, and "Downturn," a soon-to-be-released story of the dictation of a billionaire's health by finances.
Finally, there's introduction to American government, easily the weakest class of this term and second weakest behind the borderline insufferable quantitative reasoning my winter term. Government wasn't an especially bad class, for the professor was uncommonly insightful, clearly knew her field inside and out, hellbent on getting people involved with the class, and so forth, but the course grew repetitive quickly. It was also an exhausting information dump in two hours, especially in the very beginning, and external forces prevented me from enjoying the course the way that I would've liked. The less said, the better.
Spring term wasn't met with much more social activity than winter; I spent most of my downtime in the commuter lounge with my tightknit group of friends Sarah, Gerardo, Joceline, and Désury, whenever she felt like it. However, the best thing about spring term, even better than the 10pm drive on Tuesdays, was arriving at school about an hour to an hour and a half early each day so I could walk around campus, listen to music in my headphones, and simply unwind. It was my method of mentally cleansing and preparing for the day ahead in a way that's conspicuous and unobtrusive to others. I walked all around my campus, the surrounding suburban blocks, and the downtown area, with my headphones blaring everything from Jimmy Buffett, Fetty Wap, Montana of 300, and Hank Williams III. It was something I consistently looked forward to every day I was on campus.
I concluded spring term with a 3.4 GPA and rounded out the year with a 3.5 cumulative. I couldn't be more proud. My GPA was the highest it has consistently been in my entire life and it was a thrill to find myself adjusting well to college. The general thing said amongst students and professors in college is that "if you were an A student in high school, expect to be a B student your first year in college." Despite my first year success academically, I still believe this to be very true. My high school friend, who merited consistent 4.0's, stated she couldn't crack a 2.8 her first year in college. However, she was also living on campus too.
If I lived at North Central College my first year, there's no way my GPA would be what it is today. It would be alongside my friend's and probably lower than that. The reason, I feel, students struggle their first year in college is, for starters, most realize that, right now, grades are the most important they've ever been, and maintaining a consistently impressive GPA and obtaining some field work related to your major is among some of the most important things you have to do. In addition, when living on campus, you are your own boss - nobody suggests when you should go to bed, makes you food on a regular basis, tells you to study, tells you do your reading, tells you do your schoolwork, and so forth. I feel many young men and women recognize the first responsibility, or at least subconsciously understand it, but then look at the second one their first week on campus and think, "wait, I have to do both?"
It's a tricky dance and I've heard stories from my friends both glowingly positive and staunchly negative about their first years of college that are along that same path. Speaking academically, I consider my first year immensely successful. I predicted in "Swing Straight for the Fence" that my first year would be fairly solid socially but "grueling" academically and the result was kind of the opposite. My academic performance was consistently strong in my eyes, but my social game was some of the quietest it has ever been. Coming off a monumental year like my senior year of high school, I did indeed anticipate a comedown of activity, but anticipating and living are two different things. This was a year that was immensely hard on me for the sole purpose, save for a brief period my fall term, that I spent a great deal of time alone. My friend Nick summarized the feeling best, saying I was "overstimulated" and not used to such limited interactions after the year I had.
With that, I already know the area I need to improve on my sophomore year. I was recently talking to my pal Sam about my game plan next year. Academically, I'm keeping with the methods of studying and working I've stuck to; clearly they've merited some success and changes will be made if need be this next year. However, socially, things need to change. More risks need to be taken on my behalf, in terms of insinuating conversation and ceasing to sit back and watch activity occur around me. Some days, yes, that will be a preferred way to go about the day, but it's time to make some sort of a social splash, promoting my film reviews and my blogs, sure, but searching for the kind of connection that people bedazzle and praise college for giving young people. It's time I try and find a piece of the alleged "best years of my life" instead of watching others around me soak them in.
My first year of college, like the title states, was a bitch, but not necessarily a burden. It's not a year I'd particularly want to relieve, and admittedly looked forward to my days off more than the days I had to go to school (contrary to my junior and senior year of high school), but with this forthcoming game plan, I hope I can report a change in things on a social level. My sophomore year begins September 15, 2015, with introduction to film and screen studies, newsgathering, and reading literature being my classes of choice. I maintain the notion I've held for over a year now, which is to continue to "swing straight for the fence and drop my nuts down on the plate," in addition to saying, "it can't get much worse."
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