In my program, historically, there has been a dropout rate of around 30% at the end of the first year, after which there are far fewer people who quit. The profs tell you this right at the beginning, but the program's reputation is such that everyone thinks they know how brutal the workload will be. But they just think they know. No-one can really understand until they've actually experienced it.
I thought I was well prepared for the workload. In high school, I had deliberately made heavy demands on myself; I chose the most demanding courses, did some college classes in my last two years to get college credits, and participated in lots of sports and clubs. I knew that I needed a very competitive resume to get into this program so I wanted to show as much as I could that I was well rounded, that I participated in things, and that I took my academics seriously. But another of my objectives was to acclimatize myself to the workload that I knew would be coming once I was in the program.
I also did a Summer College program here to get a feel for what was to come. Although the work was as demanding as I thought I could handle, I told myself, ‘this is great, I am always able to work hard all the time so I will be okay. And now I have gotten a really good start’.
Then I came in to the program and I couldn't believe the workload. Before, I'd never really had to stay up past 1 or 2 in the morning to finish things. And I wasn't used to having to finish something before I was really done with it. I had always been something of a perfectionist and hated having to rush through things; so I would get behind by wanting to add one more thing in order to make it as good as it possibly could be. But now there wasn’t time and I had to accept that that this work just had to be good enough and finished with so I could begin the next thing that needed to be done, which there was not enough time for either.
As a result, I have slowly and painfully come to the realization that not everything has to be perfect and there are just some compromises that have to be made. At times I have had to pick and choose what must suffer at the expense of another assignment. Often, I want to perfect my work for another hour but that hour just isn’t there. I hate having to finish doing something that I know I can improve on. However, it’s even more terrible to get behind because there’s no way of catching up. Accepting this has been hard for me and I still don’t like it. I don’t like these sometimes unrealistic deadlines at all. But although my classmates and I must sometimes skip meals, sacrifice our social agendas, give up free time, or pull all-nighters for such deadlines, it is extremely rewarding to be pleased with the end result and finish alongside your friends.
I wrestled with it and now I think that I've worked it through. You can either make it as good as you can to turn it in on time, or you can make it as good as it can possibly be and not have time for the next assignment. You can't always make everything perfect because there is a great chance you'll get too far behind. And your top priority has to be managing your time such that you produce the highest quality you can in the allotted time.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Relationships with Moms 2
One of the more complex times of my first year of college was coming home for winter break. I spent the first semester getting used to the freedom, and newly gained independence I had living on my own. When I returned home, I found myself feeling confined and caged-in. I had to deal with curfews again, I wasn’t always allowed out and I had to clean my room on the same schedule (mom's) as I'd had for at least the previous twelve years. I remember getting in many fights with my parents and wanting nothing more than to go back to school. I had never fought so much with them as during that two week period.
It is real hard to find the balance between upsetting parents versus establishing the rules. It's important to sit down with them early on, perhaps even the first night you get home. Tell them about your life at college and living in the dorms. Tell them about the independence you have when you’re at school. Express concerns you have about coming back home and living in their house. Remember that they love you and that they want to keep you safe. Don’t get angry with them for parenting you; it’s their job. They are going to be overprotective and it will be hard for them to let go of certain rules. You might find that at first you have to take baby steps.
The rules that previously applied in their house have to be altered radically: after all, they've trusted you to live with a lot more freedom than ever before, and you've proved that you can do it successfully. The new rules have to respect that fact. No longer is it appropriate to have rules whose reason for existing is that they need to protect you from dangerous situations, or from the consequences of your lack of experience with things. And if your morality is to be protected, then it's you that has to do it. They're no longer in the position of being able to do much about any of that, but hopefully they'll respect your decisions.
But more than new rules, there also has to be a new way of setting rules. Now the responsibility for your welfare is yours. Part of what you need to do, though, is to respect the fact that it's their house, and you're now living there, in a way, as a guest. For example, my mom can't go to sleep until I've come back. Appropriate when I was 16, but not now. Nevertheless, I can't change it, and neither can she. So if there's to be a curfew, this is now the reason for it, as opposed to the need to protect or control me.
It might be too much for them to take in at once, so take baby steps, accept compromises, and always make sure you are on the same page. That way, you will survive your first winter break of college. And more important, you'll preserve a relationship that has always been, and hopefully will continue to be, one of the most important ones in your life.
It is real hard to find the balance between upsetting parents versus establishing the rules. It's important to sit down with them early on, perhaps even the first night you get home. Tell them about your life at college and living in the dorms. Tell them about the independence you have when you’re at school. Express concerns you have about coming back home and living in their house. Remember that they love you and that they want to keep you safe. Don’t get angry with them for parenting you; it’s their job. They are going to be overprotective and it will be hard for them to let go of certain rules. You might find that at first you have to take baby steps.
The rules that previously applied in their house have to be altered radically: after all, they've trusted you to live with a lot more freedom than ever before, and you've proved that you can do it successfully. The new rules have to respect that fact. No longer is it appropriate to have rules whose reason for existing is that they need to protect you from dangerous situations, or from the consequences of your lack of experience with things. And if your morality is to be protected, then it's you that has to do it. They're no longer in the position of being able to do much about any of that, but hopefully they'll respect your decisions.
But more than new rules, there also has to be a new way of setting rules. Now the responsibility for your welfare is yours. Part of what you need to do, though, is to respect the fact that it's their house, and you're now living there, in a way, as a guest. For example, my mom can't go to sleep until I've come back. Appropriate when I was 16, but not now. Nevertheless, I can't change it, and neither can she. So if there's to be a curfew, this is now the reason for it, as opposed to the need to protect or control me.
It might be too much for them to take in at once, so take baby steps, accept compromises, and always make sure you are on the same page. That way, you will survive your first winter break of college. And more important, you'll preserve a relationship that has always been, and hopefully will continue to be, one of the most important ones in your life.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Sharing a Room with a Friend
The Housing University Department is supposed to match you and your roommate based on your interests. I knew, though, that it doesn't always work out; really, what they use to match you is a survey which is not very extensive so you end up getting dumped in a room with someone, and hopefully the two of you will get along. It's not really matching. So my best friend and I chose to live together.
It didn't work. Even though she'd been my best friend all through high school, it all changed once I started living with her. I saw her differently. First, she was a slob and she didn't care. Sometimes you can talk to people about things that are kinda bothering you so that maybe they can learn to get the dishes done before there is a mountain in the sink and make sure that the place doesn’t smell from the chicken juice in the rotting garbage. Other times you can't. And with her, you couldn't. But wait, as they say, there's more.
When you live with someone and overhear their conversations on a daily basis, you find out more than you want to. I hadn't realized that she's so shallow, and so stubbornly arrogant. She said that I never came home enough and didn't want her company. That was true. I didn't want to go home because I was sick of all the bullshit and drama. It got to me. I came to the reality that living with my best friend had changed my perception of her. That sucked, but not as much as having to continually put up with her.
Maybe it was wrong, but I decided to open the door and the window at all times even though she didn't like it, and let my music waft out. Maybe blast out. That way my friends came into the room and I hung out with them and she got mad and left.
My feeling now is that you should make the most of what you want to do and not worry too much about your roommate. It's your room too. Don't be disrespectful but you still can make the most of the situation.
And you can grow from being put with roommates who you don't have a lot in common with, so use the opportunity. For example, I've realized that I hate living in filth. I wasn't like that before as I was always a messy person and would just leave stuff for others to do. But now I can't stand when people leave their dishes in the sink and I hate studying in a messy room.
Another lesson: if you share a room with a friend, recognize the risk. You may lose the friendship. Now in my case, it's probably a good thing: she turned out not to be the kind of person I could really be a friend to. But it's true too that sharing a room with someone makes you hypersensitive to any annoyances the person might present to you.
So how did it end? Actually, for me, rather well. I was able to move in with my current roommate, who was previously stuck with a truly freaky person. Don't even start me talking about that one.
Now the annoying slob has her own room and so does the freak. Both their personalities are so passive that they are both afraid to decorate the other side of the room in case they get a roommate who won't like it. Their rooms look like jail cells. No one wants to move in. And maybe that's what they intended!
I'm beyond caring. Now, though, in a room with someone compatible, I can resume my life.
It didn't work. Even though she'd been my best friend all through high school, it all changed once I started living with her. I saw her differently. First, she was a slob and she didn't care. Sometimes you can talk to people about things that are kinda bothering you so that maybe they can learn to get the dishes done before there is a mountain in the sink and make sure that the place doesn’t smell from the chicken juice in the rotting garbage. Other times you can't. And with her, you couldn't. But wait, as they say, there's more.
When you live with someone and overhear their conversations on a daily basis, you find out more than you want to. I hadn't realized that she's so shallow, and so stubbornly arrogant. She said that I never came home enough and didn't want her company. That was true. I didn't want to go home because I was sick of all the bullshit and drama. It got to me. I came to the reality that living with my best friend had changed my perception of her. That sucked, but not as much as having to continually put up with her.
Maybe it was wrong, but I decided to open the door and the window at all times even though she didn't like it, and let my music waft out. Maybe blast out. That way my friends came into the room and I hung out with them and she got mad and left.
My feeling now is that you should make the most of what you want to do and not worry too much about your roommate. It's your room too. Don't be disrespectful but you still can make the most of the situation.
And you can grow from being put with roommates who you don't have a lot in common with, so use the opportunity. For example, I've realized that I hate living in filth. I wasn't like that before as I was always a messy person and would just leave stuff for others to do. But now I can't stand when people leave their dishes in the sink and I hate studying in a messy room.
Another lesson: if you share a room with a friend, recognize the risk. You may lose the friendship. Now in my case, it's probably a good thing: she turned out not to be the kind of person I could really be a friend to. But it's true too that sharing a room with someone makes you hypersensitive to any annoyances the person might present to you.
So how did it end? Actually, for me, rather well. I was able to move in with my current roommate, who was previously stuck with a truly freaky person. Don't even start me talking about that one.
Now the annoying slob has her own room and so does the freak. Both their personalities are so passive that they are both afraid to decorate the other side of the room in case they get a roommate who won't like it. Their rooms look like jail cells. No one wants to move in. And maybe that's what they intended!
I'm beyond caring. Now, though, in a room with someone compatible, I can resume my life.
An Impossible Roommate
I can't believe how finnicky my roommate is. You drop a kleenex and he goes into a conniption. Or you've been playing sports and yes, there's sweat; he freaks if you don't shower right away. If you have used a piece of clothing, he expects you to wash it immediately -- if you don't and you accumulate a bagful, it drives him beserk! Now my mom is a fairly hygienic lady, but she does have a laundry basket that she allows to fill up until there's about a washer-load there; then she washes it. Is she a slob? I don't think so.
If you should happen to drop a small item such as a pencil and it goes over into my roommate's part of the room, he takes this as a personal violation from which he will never recover. Worst of all: if you happen to leave just one hair in the shower, he becomes catatonic.
It's really hard to live with a person like that. It won't last, though. One of us will be dead.
If you should happen to drop a small item such as a pencil and it goes over into my roommate's part of the room, he takes this as a personal violation from which he will never recover. Worst of all: if you happen to leave just one hair in the shower, he becomes catatonic.
It's really hard to live with a person like that. It won't last, though. One of us will be dead.
An Overachiever’s Emancipation
I walked slowly into the behemoth-sized, modern air-conditioned building with my parents. This is where it’s going to begin – course registration. I’ve worked hard to get here; this was it. “Hey! You’re an incoming student?” I nodded, as I was looking around at the hundreds of other students, seemingly being ushered around by other overly enthusiastic upper-year students. “Okay, be right back – just gotta get the name list,” he said as he disappeared into the crowd.
These were the big leagues. No more small towns for me – campus itself was a city all in itself! As excited as I was, I was also scared. I graduated from high school as the top student and made it here with the highest entrance scholarship there was.
“This is university,” we heard a representative in the room beside where we stood say on the microphone, addressing mainly parents. “In many cases, your children may be exposed to unprecedented liberty. This may be advantageous for the students, especially socially. However, nobody will force them to do their homework, assignments or studies. Nobody will remind them of their quizzes, tests, and examinations. As you can imagine, this independence may lead to academic difficulties.” He continued: “Your children may be, actually, certainly are, used to A or A+ averages – they wouldn’t be here if they weren’t. Despite this, every year most students’ averages drop, and statistically, 43% of our students experience a 16.4% drop in their grades; this is sometimes traumatic for them.”
I turned to my parents, surprised, as they listened on. “We know that as parents, you function as an integral component to their success and ...” It just became a blur after that. What?! Drop by 16 point what?! You’ve got to be kidding me. The upper-year student returned: “Alright, follow me! Just up these stairs ...”
This is how my career at university began: with fear. I had a lot to live up to, with a lot of weight on my shoulders. This was certainly not from my parents, since they never pressured me, but from myself. Throughout high school I was an overachiever. It didn’t really help that most of the other students around me claimed the same. It also didn’t help that a single class here accounted for at least the entire student body of my high school. For someone with this mindset, the plunge into university can be hard to absorb all at once. At this point it wasn’t really an issue of getting your mid to high-nineties, but a question of even getting above average!
It was with this that I began my journeys to the library. It was an act of necessity, really. The residence was quite literally impossible to study in, thanks to perpetual partying and never-ending noise. I remember the first time I went to the library on the second day of school, during orientation. Understandably, it was pretty empty, but I wanted to get a head start. Time was certainly not to be wasted now that I was in university. Then came assignments, tests, and exams. Every single half mark required my fullest effort, including the anxiety that came along with the slightest failure. 2 AM library adventures, constant undue stress, and a lack of most intrinsic happiness, all at the expense of any meaningful social fun: the experience of an inappropriate overachiever.
My extraordinary effort didn’t lack for results. In fact, it got results even better than high school. I realized, however, that the method of obtaining such results was counterproductive. I began to consider, though, questions of balance and cost-benefit ratio.
A simple look around me revealed that there were other extremes than mine: students always partying, not attending class, and living a life only afforded by way too much freedom. Really, I was no better, but was simply a student at the other extreme. What was needed was a fine balance, a middle ground that would result in a life outside of academics, but without putting success in the classroom on the backburner. For me, balance consisted of getting involved in volunteering, community work, and rediscovering passions in life, like dance.
Achieving balance is easy to urge yourself to do, harder to achieve. You can say it can't be done, but that's an excuse, a cop-out. A high-mark junkie like I was can be rehabilitated, but it would all have been easier to do if I'd realized the need for it at the beginning. For the record, balance doesn’t necessarily have to be incompatible with high grades – after all, I did manage to maintain the marks I'd had in high school.
But the incentive is simple: a true university life, with emphasis on the word life. Even though its achievement can sometimes require unexpected insights, that's something that everyone is entitled to.
These were the big leagues. No more small towns for me – campus itself was a city all in itself! As excited as I was, I was also scared. I graduated from high school as the top student and made it here with the highest entrance scholarship there was.
“This is university,” we heard a representative in the room beside where we stood say on the microphone, addressing mainly parents. “In many cases, your children may be exposed to unprecedented liberty. This may be advantageous for the students, especially socially. However, nobody will force them to do their homework, assignments or studies. Nobody will remind them of their quizzes, tests, and examinations. As you can imagine, this independence may lead to academic difficulties.” He continued: “Your children may be, actually, certainly are, used to A or A+ averages – they wouldn’t be here if they weren’t. Despite this, every year most students’ averages drop, and statistically, 43% of our students experience a 16.4% drop in their grades; this is sometimes traumatic for them.”
I turned to my parents, surprised, as they listened on. “We know that as parents, you function as an integral component to their success and ...” It just became a blur after that. What?! Drop by 16 point what?! You’ve got to be kidding me. The upper-year student returned: “Alright, follow me! Just up these stairs ...”
This is how my career at university began: with fear. I had a lot to live up to, with a lot of weight on my shoulders. This was certainly not from my parents, since they never pressured me, but from myself. Throughout high school I was an overachiever. It didn’t really help that most of the other students around me claimed the same. It also didn’t help that a single class here accounted for at least the entire student body of my high school. For someone with this mindset, the plunge into university can be hard to absorb all at once. At this point it wasn’t really an issue of getting your mid to high-nineties, but a question of even getting above average!
It was with this that I began my journeys to the library. It was an act of necessity, really. The residence was quite literally impossible to study in, thanks to perpetual partying and never-ending noise. I remember the first time I went to the library on the second day of school, during orientation. Understandably, it was pretty empty, but I wanted to get a head start. Time was certainly not to be wasted now that I was in university. Then came assignments, tests, and exams. Every single half mark required my fullest effort, including the anxiety that came along with the slightest failure. 2 AM library adventures, constant undue stress, and a lack of most intrinsic happiness, all at the expense of any meaningful social fun: the experience of an inappropriate overachiever.
My extraordinary effort didn’t lack for results. In fact, it got results even better than high school. I realized, however, that the method of obtaining such results was counterproductive. I began to consider, though, questions of balance and cost-benefit ratio.
A simple look around me revealed that there were other extremes than mine: students always partying, not attending class, and living a life only afforded by way too much freedom. Really, I was no better, but was simply a student at the other extreme. What was needed was a fine balance, a middle ground that would result in a life outside of academics, but without putting success in the classroom on the backburner. For me, balance consisted of getting involved in volunteering, community work, and rediscovering passions in life, like dance.
Achieving balance is easy to urge yourself to do, harder to achieve. You can say it can't be done, but that's an excuse, a cop-out. A high-mark junkie like I was can be rehabilitated, but it would all have been easier to do if I'd realized the need for it at the beginning. For the record, balance doesn’t necessarily have to be incompatible with high grades – after all, I did manage to maintain the marks I'd had in high school.
But the incentive is simple: a true university life, with emphasis on the word life. Even though its achievement can sometimes require unexpected insights, that's something that everyone is entitled to.
Roommates Can Be Extreme Too
How many times have you heard, “You had better hope you don’t get a crappy roommate freshman year – school will suck!"
Well, let me tell you. That’s baloney. I had, by far, one of the worst possible roommates my first year at school and I was by far one of the happiest kids on earth. Not because of my roommate of course, but I learned to make the best of a sticky situation.
Boy, do I have fond memories of that girl – sitting on her bed, all the time, eating the most disgusting foods she could find and as much of it as she could find, all the time, video chatting, having cyber sex with her disgusting boyfriend, all the time; really, it was a great time. Yeah right!
She was absolutely repulsive. She never once washed her sheets. That’s nasty right there in and of itself. But the worst part about it was, second semester, the boyfriend would come up every weekend and you know what happens when boyfriends come to town. I was "sexiled" every weekend from my own room. Sexile is what happens when your roommate brings home someone or has someone over and to maintain your sanity you decide to go somewhere else for the night so you don’t have to listen to the moaning and groaning. Ewwwww!
I walked in on them a bunch of times because the moron never bothered to lock the door or to tell me when her boyfriend was coming up. Ughhh. I came home once and they weren’t there but their homemade sex dice had made it to my side of the room. Look it up online if you don't understand, but seriously, keep it to yourself.
My best friend lived next door to me on my roommate’s side of the wall and I came to her room one day when the boyfriend was up and she said you’ll never believe what just happened to me. Of course I asked her what and she replied with, “See this brush on my bureau? I had to pick it up off the ground because it fell from the banging on the wall from next door.” It would be an understatement to say that I was mortified.
Aside from all of that though, my roommate was just an all around unpleasant person. I think we said all of five words to each other all year. She was the most whiny, selfish, stuck up kid I have ever met. There were several times that I would come home and she would be screaming at whoever was on the other line. Other times she would be telling her mother that she had been waiting forever for her mom to write her paper for her. Not a good situation.
She would use the microwave at all hours of the night. Regardless of if I was sleeping or not. This wouldn’t have been so bad had the microwave not been right next to my head. Her making popcorn while I was sleeping made me want to punch her. Argh.
She didn’t really shower ever. The room was absolutely rank. I had three air fresheners going on my side of the room and I always tried to keep the window open. Nothing worked. It was awful.
But, I still stayed strong. To counteract all of this, whenever (on rare occasion) she wasn’t home I would open the door, turn the music up super loud and have all my friends on the floor come over to make sure that people knew that my roommate wasn’t going to win the battle of the century.
It’s tough at times, but you’ll pull through. You can’t let your roommate make or break your year. My freshman year was one of the most amazing experiences of my life and I want to thank my roommate for providing me with all these great stories that I can now look back on and laugh about.
But would I want to repeat the experience???
Well, let me tell you. That’s baloney. I had, by far, one of the worst possible roommates my first year at school and I was by far one of the happiest kids on earth. Not because of my roommate of course, but I learned to make the best of a sticky situation.
Boy, do I have fond memories of that girl – sitting on her bed, all the time, eating the most disgusting foods she could find and as much of it as she could find, all the time, video chatting, having cyber sex with her disgusting boyfriend, all the time; really, it was a great time. Yeah right!
She was absolutely repulsive. She never once washed her sheets. That’s nasty right there in and of itself. But the worst part about it was, second semester, the boyfriend would come up every weekend and you know what happens when boyfriends come to town. I was "sexiled" every weekend from my own room. Sexile is what happens when your roommate brings home someone or has someone over and to maintain your sanity you decide to go somewhere else for the night so you don’t have to listen to the moaning and groaning. Ewwwww!
I walked in on them a bunch of times because the moron never bothered to lock the door or to tell me when her boyfriend was coming up. Ughhh. I came home once and they weren’t there but their homemade sex dice had made it to my side of the room. Look it up online if you don't understand, but seriously, keep it to yourself.
My best friend lived next door to me on my roommate’s side of the wall and I came to her room one day when the boyfriend was up and she said you’ll never believe what just happened to me. Of course I asked her what and she replied with, “See this brush on my bureau? I had to pick it up off the ground because it fell from the banging on the wall from next door.” It would be an understatement to say that I was mortified.
Aside from all of that though, my roommate was just an all around unpleasant person. I think we said all of five words to each other all year. She was the most whiny, selfish, stuck up kid I have ever met. There were several times that I would come home and she would be screaming at whoever was on the other line. Other times she would be telling her mother that she had been waiting forever for her mom to write her paper for her. Not a good situation.
She would use the microwave at all hours of the night. Regardless of if I was sleeping or not. This wouldn’t have been so bad had the microwave not been right next to my head. Her making popcorn while I was sleeping made me want to punch her. Argh.
She didn’t really shower ever. The room was absolutely rank. I had three air fresheners going on my side of the room and I always tried to keep the window open. Nothing worked. It was awful.
But, I still stayed strong. To counteract all of this, whenever (on rare occasion) she wasn’t home I would open the door, turn the music up super loud and have all my friends on the floor come over to make sure that people knew that my roommate wasn’t going to win the battle of the century.
It’s tough at times, but you’ll pull through. You can’t let your roommate make or break your year. My freshman year was one of the most amazing experiences of my life and I want to thank my roommate for providing me with all these great stories that I can now look back on and laugh about.
But would I want to repeat the experience???
I'm Done For
This is the End
Well, it's the end of the second term, and this is it for me.
At first it was a great time: the freedom, no attendance taken at classes, the lack of anyone to tell you do do stuff, the far-in-the-future deadlines, the booze, the parties ...
I survived, barely, at Christmas. Sweet talking the profs, deadline extensions, minor revisions and paraphrases of others' already-marked work. Warnings, but nothing that couldn't be shrugged off.
Second term not so good. Procrastination was about the same. But less fun, more hangovers, more guilt. More people looking funny at me. More rolling of eyes on the part of the profs.
The same last-minute scramble as in December: to get stuff in, to make excuses, to have deadlines extended. Fewer people to get work from to make alterations to and then to hand in. A couple of really negative letters from the admin.
And now, the exams. Not a good scene for me because I really don't know anything at all. Everyone else seems to be doing allnighters -- amphetamines but no recreational drugs, and no parties, that's for sure. But I'm so far out of it that nothing will do me any good. I just don't seem to know where to begin. One person emailed me a summary of all her notes for the exam; I couldn't make anything at all of anything she had written.
So as far as further education is concerned, that's it for me. A wasted year. Worse. All my savings consumed. My parents' contributions gone. They don't know much about what's been going on; I've been able to be optimistic with them up to now, and now they're soon going to get a big shock.
And the future. Will anyone hire me? Will I ever be able to afford to go to school again? Will I ever get accepted anywhere else anyway? Will anyone want to be friends with a person like me?
Doubtful.
I'm done for.
Well, it's the end of the second term, and this is it for me.
At first it was a great time: the freedom, no attendance taken at classes, the lack of anyone to tell you do do stuff, the far-in-the-future deadlines, the booze, the parties ...
I survived, barely, at Christmas. Sweet talking the profs, deadline extensions, minor revisions and paraphrases of others' already-marked work. Warnings, but nothing that couldn't be shrugged off.
Second term not so good. Procrastination was about the same. But less fun, more hangovers, more guilt. More people looking funny at me. More rolling of eyes on the part of the profs.
The same last-minute scramble as in December: to get stuff in, to make excuses, to have deadlines extended. Fewer people to get work from to make alterations to and then to hand in. A couple of really negative letters from the admin.
And now, the exams. Not a good scene for me because I really don't know anything at all. Everyone else seems to be doing allnighters -- amphetamines but no recreational drugs, and no parties, that's for sure. But I'm so far out of it that nothing will do me any good. I just don't seem to know where to begin. One person emailed me a summary of all her notes for the exam; I couldn't make anything at all of anything she had written.
So as far as further education is concerned, that's it for me. A wasted year. Worse. All my savings consumed. My parents' contributions gone. They don't know much about what's been going on; I've been able to be optimistic with them up to now, and now they're soon going to get a big shock.
And the future. Will anyone hire me? Will I ever be able to afford to go to school again? Will I ever get accepted anywhere else anyway? Will anyone want to be friends with a person like me?
Doubtful.
I'm done for.
Support from Alumni
One of the truly remarkable things at this university is the degree of connection between the alumni and the students, faculty, and administration on campus and how much they are involved.
Many of the university's buildings are named after the alumnus who paid for them. Not so visible except to students like me is the money alumni give for scholarships. An amazing number of us are heavily subsidized by these scholarships: some because their achievements have earned the money, others because they wouldn't have been able to afford to come if they'd have had to pay the whole shot themselves. I've heard many students say that because of the scholarships, coming here costs less than going to a State University would.
I know that lots of private universities receive this kind of financial support and depend on it. But here it goes much further, because the individual alumni are resources for us.
There's a networking program, organized from a university office, which organizes alumni events that seem to draw lots of people of all ages from all over. Last week I went to a hockey game that the alum were invited to and afterwards there was a cocktail hour where you could talk to them. Lots of students make valuable connections that way; my friend's older brother got his first job as a result of a contact made at one of these events. Some departments bring alum into the classes where they give talks and hold miniature conferences. The guidance office encourages you to find an alum to shadow and get work experience and use as a mentor.
The university is in a remote rural area, far from any large cities. The surrounding counties are full of people in leadership positions who are our alumni. But geographically, the alumni are spread over the whole country. It always amazes me how far alumni have traveled to attend events like hockey weekends -- the other side of the country sometimes.
Last year, I called an alum to tell her that I was looking for an internship. She told me to stop in and apply and I was hired. One conversation at a university social event, a subsequent phone call and application letter, and there was the internship. And that happens a lot.
Sure, this is not a big university and yes, I would like to see what what a bigger one has to offer. Actually, I know what a bigger university has to offer: more variety, more specialization, courses that go to higher levels. This won't be the only university that I attend.
However, I'm certain that whatever happens, this is the one I'll look back on with the most nostalgia, and also the one I'll support with time, money, patronage, and whatever else I can contribute. I feel comfortable here, extremely grateful to the alumni who've done so much to make it possible, and determined to do all I can to make sure the university thrives in the future. More than ever before in my life, I now know the meaning of the word loyalty.
(Well yes, I feel a different kind of loyalty to individual people, like my friends, my mom, and the rest of my family. But here I learned what it is to feel another kind of loyalty as well.)
Many of us, when we graduate, will take that feeling with us. And that's why we have such strong alumni support.
Many of the university's buildings are named after the alumnus who paid for them. Not so visible except to students like me is the money alumni give for scholarships. An amazing number of us are heavily subsidized by these scholarships: some because their achievements have earned the money, others because they wouldn't have been able to afford to come if they'd have had to pay the whole shot themselves. I've heard many students say that because of the scholarships, coming here costs less than going to a State University would.
I know that lots of private universities receive this kind of financial support and depend on it. But here it goes much further, because the individual alumni are resources for us.
There's a networking program, organized from a university office, which organizes alumni events that seem to draw lots of people of all ages from all over. Last week I went to a hockey game that the alum were invited to and afterwards there was a cocktail hour where you could talk to them. Lots of students make valuable connections that way; my friend's older brother got his first job as a result of a contact made at one of these events. Some departments bring alum into the classes where they give talks and hold miniature conferences. The guidance office encourages you to find an alum to shadow and get work experience and use as a mentor.
The university is in a remote rural area, far from any large cities. The surrounding counties are full of people in leadership positions who are our alumni. But geographically, the alumni are spread over the whole country. It always amazes me how far alumni have traveled to attend events like hockey weekends -- the other side of the country sometimes.
Last year, I called an alum to tell her that I was looking for an internship. She told me to stop in and apply and I was hired. One conversation at a university social event, a subsequent phone call and application letter, and there was the internship. And that happens a lot.
Sure, this is not a big university and yes, I would like to see what what a bigger one has to offer. Actually, I know what a bigger university has to offer: more variety, more specialization, courses that go to higher levels. This won't be the only university that I attend.
However, I'm certain that whatever happens, this is the one I'll look back on with the most nostalgia, and also the one I'll support with time, money, patronage, and whatever else I can contribute. I feel comfortable here, extremely grateful to the alumni who've done so much to make it possible, and determined to do all I can to make sure the university thrives in the future. More than ever before in my life, I now know the meaning of the word loyalty.
(Well yes, I feel a different kind of loyalty to individual people, like my friends, my mom, and the rest of my family. But here I learned what it is to feel another kind of loyalty as well.)
Many of us, when we graduate, will take that feeling with us. And that's why we have such strong alumni support.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
An Easy Way to Save
An easy way to save money – fix things yourself!
It is obvious that in university, people will play sports indoors, wrestle indoors, throw things, and goof-off. Along with this comes the unfortunate occurrence of holes in the drywall of your residence. After a few crazy nights, and three gaping holes in our walls, my roommates and I quickly learned how to patch drywall. The university charges $150 per hole to have them fixed and quite frankly, we as university students could not afford that.
We went to the hardware store and bought a can of drywall filler for $5.00 and a spreader for $1.00. None of us knew anything about drywall, but we heard it was quite simple; all you have to do is spread some filler over the hole, smooth it out, and you are done. That is exactly what we did, and fortunately it looked great. Shortly after, we went around and patched all of our friends holes, saving ourselves tons of money, and the final count of holes filled that year was 16. At $150 per hole, that is a lot of money saved.
So why are we so excited about saving money by fixing things ourselves? Because here, everything is a ripoff. Clothes and parking cost too much, roommate matching costs $50, textbooks cost a fortune. They make you buy the whole pack when you only need one of the books. They change the editions so you can’t buy used ones. And often, they require new texts with new authors so you can’t use the old ones. The profs told us this on the first day. They said “make it easier on yourself and buy the proper text or you won't be able to follow along”. Yeah well it’s not them paying for it, now is it?
Living on your own is expensive. My dad thinks we have it easier than others because residence is paid for. But one of my friends is in an apartment and he pays $300/month. I pay $700/mo for my share and it’s $2100 total for our whole unit which three of us share.
Next year I will live off-campus for sure. I know I will have to pay for my own groceries whereas now, I have a meal plan. But I still think it will be a lot cheaper.
So yes, I am happy when I can fix things myself. Maybe I should start a business doing just that.
It is obvious that in university, people will play sports indoors, wrestle indoors, throw things, and goof-off. Along with this comes the unfortunate occurrence of holes in the drywall of your residence. After a few crazy nights, and three gaping holes in our walls, my roommates and I quickly learned how to patch drywall. The university charges $150 per hole to have them fixed and quite frankly, we as university students could not afford that.
We went to the hardware store and bought a can of drywall filler for $5.00 and a spreader for $1.00. None of us knew anything about drywall, but we heard it was quite simple; all you have to do is spread some filler over the hole, smooth it out, and you are done. That is exactly what we did, and fortunately it looked great. Shortly after, we went around and patched all of our friends holes, saving ourselves tons of money, and the final count of holes filled that year was 16. At $150 per hole, that is a lot of money saved.
So why are we so excited about saving money by fixing things ourselves? Because here, everything is a ripoff. Clothes and parking cost too much, roommate matching costs $50, textbooks cost a fortune. They make you buy the whole pack when you only need one of the books. They change the editions so you can’t buy used ones. And often, they require new texts with new authors so you can’t use the old ones. The profs told us this on the first day. They said “make it easier on yourself and buy the proper text or you won't be able to follow along”. Yeah well it’s not them paying for it, now is it?
Living on your own is expensive. My dad thinks we have it easier than others because residence is paid for. But one of my friends is in an apartment and he pays $300/month. I pay $700/mo for my share and it’s $2100 total for our whole unit which three of us share.
Next year I will live off-campus for sure. I know I will have to pay for my own groceries whereas now, I have a meal plan. But I still think it will be a lot cheaper.
So yes, I am happy when I can fix things myself. Maybe I should start a business doing just that.
Frosh Week Sucked!
I thought Frosh week would be better. What it was portrayed as was not what it was like at all. It was kind of boring.
I felt that the leaders treated us like we were five. We went to the casino and when we were ready to leave, we told the leaders we were going to go back by taxi instead of waiting for the bus. They wouldn't let us and told us that if we wanted to go by taxi, we would have to have two guys with us. They would also check our bags everytime we got on the bus which annoyed me greatly.
Our move in date to residence was two days after frosh week had started. So we missed two days of meeting people. It made it really hard because everyone had already formed groups of friends. We missed the ice breaker activities so we didn't even know anybody's names. There were different cheers for different groups; everyone would start yelling cheers and we wouldn't know what to do because we didn't know the cheers. We missed the boat trip which was supposed to be really fun. And our schedule was already picked out for us so we couldn't even choose what we wanted to do.
If I had known it was going to be like this, I would have stayed with my aunt and uncle so I could have participated in the activities from the start. Frosh week probably would have been fun if I had done that.
I felt that the leaders treated us like we were five. We went to the casino and when we were ready to leave, we told the leaders we were going to go back by taxi instead of waiting for the bus. They wouldn't let us and told us that if we wanted to go by taxi, we would have to have two guys with us. They would also check our bags everytime we got on the bus which annoyed me greatly.
Our move in date to residence was two days after frosh week had started. So we missed two days of meeting people. It made it really hard because everyone had already formed groups of friends. We missed the ice breaker activities so we didn't even know anybody's names. There were different cheers for different groups; everyone would start yelling cheers and we wouldn't know what to do because we didn't know the cheers. We missed the boat trip which was supposed to be really fun. And our schedule was already picked out for us so we couldn't even choose what we wanted to do.
If I had known it was going to be like this, I would have stayed with my aunt and uncle so I could have participated in the activities from the start. Frosh week probably would have been fun if I had done that.
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