Finding hope amidst frustration

Four years ago, Hopkins was my dream school. I turned my back on local state and private colleges and applied early decision. I sealed a 10x12 envelope and waited patiently, hoping I wouldn't have to fill out anymore applications.

Four years ago, Hopkins was my dream school. And then I arrived and woke up.

After an encouraging week of Orientation, my enthusiasm began to wear down. My Resident Advisor played possum, my advisor was hardly that, deciding to lecture me about how much he "cared" about advising rather than, you know, actually doing so. The lights of the Inner Harbor faded fast and everything worthwhile seemed a cab ride away.

Professors never seemed to care, one saying he would hold office hours in a locked building, leaving it up to his students to get in. The AC hadn't been built yet, and neither had Hodson Hall. The Mattin Center was a ghost town and the food at Terrace didn't go down easy.

Dominoes started to fall. It got grey and windy. After getting all my S's in the fall, I stopped going to class and landed on academic probation.

Within a year, I went from being one of Hopkins' most excited freshmen to one of its most disillusioned sophomores.

Don't allow me to make it sound like it was all bad. I made great friends and had more than my share of good times, some even at Hopkins.

We had a great on-campus movie lineup that year and several strong MSE and Foreign Affairs Symposium lectures. Except for Bob Woodward the day after Sept. 11, 2001. He sucked.

But as often as I tried to admire and appreciate Hopkins, I couldn't shake the feeling that the school wasn't for me.

I suppose I came into Hopkins a step behind everybody else. The summer after graduation, I was excited about going to college. Not majoring in Biomedical Engineering, not getting on the fast track to SAIS, not passing the time before med school, not trying to land a career.

I thought college was about discovering what to do with your life, not utilizing tools to further a path you (or your parents) decided upon years ago. Maybe the promise of your degree will keep you satisfied, but that wasn't the case for me.

So what happened? I had to grow up, much faster than I wanted to. I searched for a new major (and advisor) I liked. I chose a career path, and I invested myself in a weekly rag called the News-Letter. Research and internships followed. I wasn't happy, so I got busy instead.

So I'll be the first to admit it. I screwed this up. I took an opportunity reserved for the elite of the world and mishandled it.

But rather than pouting, blaming the school or blaming myself, I'm trying to do something about it.

This year's newspaper is printed on the promise -- my promise -- to help make Hopkins a better place to go to college. Within the pages of this issue alone, you'll find a number of helpful suggestions from all our staffers: places to go, things to do before graduation, tips for getting along with roommates. Believe me and the rest of a dedicated staff: it's nothing compared to what we have in store.

Don't make, necessarily, the same mistakes I did. Hopkins is probably one of the hardest schools in the world to get through alone. You will need help. I'll bet you won't get much from your advisors or professors, but hey, I like to play the odds.

If you depend on Hopkins to give you a great experience, you'll be disappointed. If you're lucky enough to know yourself by your freshman year, this catharsis isn't for you. If you're still on that fragile path of self-discovery, it might get rockier than you expected.

Stay focused. Don't shortchange your future because you feel shortchanged by Hopkins.

And my final words of advice for those who've just set foot on the campus: If you make it through unscathed, do the mature thing: help make this school better. Start a club, join a student group, have your parents donate a wing. Don't stand still. Also, you should have brought a car.

Good luck.

-- Maany Peyvan is a senior and a News-Letter Editor-In-Chief.