By Adam Meyer
In May 2005, my four-year-long treacherous journey through the
depths of high school ended. While I watched most of my friends
choose to enroll in nearby universities or take a year off of school
which then turned into two, then three, then a lifetime of never
going back, I decided to take a safer trail. In hopes of assuring
success in my future, I decided to enroll in a community college
with the intentions of enrolling later in a university. I arrived
at my decision as a result of persuading factors, such as the unsettling
large number of freshman who drop out of universities.
To put it shortly, you could say my choice to walk the trail of
the community college was at best an upgraded guarantee of not
wasting my father’s money and of success in my future. While
attending a community college for two semesters, I found its simple
enrollment process, small class sizes and caring teachers comforting.
But not long after, just as a year passes by in the blink of an
eye, I knew my time to transfer would come.
With a small perspective of what to expect out of a university,
I did expect that my classes would expand and my teachers become
more distant. On July 8, I awoke at 6 a.m. to eat breakfast, take
a shower, gather my necessary information and drive 50 minutes
for the transfer student orientation day. Excited to get enrolled
and finalize my transfer, I quickly found that the university transfer
student orientation day was about as much fun as it sounds.
Starting sharply at 8 o’clock, a bad time to start the day
for anything, the morning consisted of standing in long lines for
anything from handing in late transcripts to picking up the “fun” packet.
Quickly following came sitting in auditoriums and listening to
60-minute presentations. Now let me tell you about the dilemma
that arose at this point of my day. Being filled not with your
average plastic uncomfortable metal-legged chairs designed to keep
people awake, these auditoriums were built with red cushioned movie
theater-style seats.
The only thing that wasn’t movie theater style about them,
however, was the space in front and beside you. This combination
of baby-cradle comforting seats with frustratingly small leg and
arm space forced students into what I like to call the “50-percent
zone.” The 50-percent zone occurs for half hours at a time,
in which your awakened state simply dips in and out of consciousness
causing 50-percent awareness. This usually results in eyes half-way
closed and sometimes twitching gently, droopy cheeks, along with
the embarrassing saliva seeping out the crack of your mouth that
everyone around you seems to notice... but only 50 percent of the
time.
Topping the day off was indeed the last task on the agenda of the
transfer student orientation day—enrolling. To make a long
story (filled with confusion, stress, insufficient aid from counselors
and time wasted) short, I left the orientation enrolled in four
classes, one of which I had no knowledge of what was being taught
in it, and one I hadn’t even completed the prerequisites
and, in fact, could not be enrolled. Needless to say, after the
day had been over and done with, I felt as if both my mind and
body had been savagely beaten with native meats for just under
five hours.
After finishing up the rest of the summer, I sit now in the present,
several weeks into the semester reflecting on the process of transferring.
In my eyes, transferring had been unorganized and almost unsuccessful
(in the context of getting into classes that would successfully
lead me down a four-year college plan); however, that doesn’t
mean I’m not glad I did it. So far my first week at the university
has shown me three small classes and only one auditorium class
(unfortunately with 50-percent, zone-creating seats), as well an
incredible diverse crowd I would have never encountered at a community
college. With my philosophy always stating that people are the
textbooks of the present, the diversity alone was enough for me
to be assured that I walked the right trail.
|
