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My best friends and I met at a birthday party in sophomore year for a girl named Tina. Did we know Tina? Absolutely not. But there we were, huddled in a stranger’s basement, eating cheap cupcakes.
Four years ago, when I was gearing up for my freshman year of college, I thought I had everything under control. When I laid everything I needed for college out on my bed, I was not afraid. When my mom helped me pack two massive duffels with clothes, chargers, books, cosmetics, brushes, hairbands, hats, shoes and enough K-Cup Pods to pollute a small island, I was not afraid. When my dad carried everything out to the car — when he placed the duffels alongside pillows, plastic storage bins, my guitar — I was not afraid. I was not afraid when we got in the car, when we left Massachusetts, when we passed through Connecticut, then New York, then New Jersey, then Delaware. When we saw “Maryland Welcomes You,” I was not afraid, nor was I afraid when I saw, stamped in concrete across the front of the Beach, “Johns Hopkins University.”
I had my fair share of misconceptions about college. As a first-generation college student, I thought college was going to be like high school. I didn’t have anyone in my family who went to college to tell me otherwise. I got A’s easily in high school; I barely needed to study, rarely reviewed my notes and coasted through Honors and Advanced Placement classes that claimed to “prepare” us for college rigor.
What makes a clichéd farewell letter?
“You are like a ball of constant stress.”
Content warning: The following article includes topics some readers may find triggering, including sexual assault.
Dear freshman Leela,
“On their own” (April 2018)
Make sure you choose something that drives you from within, and you will find your place here at Hopkins.
I feel like we missed out on so many “lasts,” and I worry that once the pandemic is over, everyone (including myself) will just move on and no longer feel the need to celebrate graduation. I really look forward to the day I can reunite with my Hopkins family for one last celebration.
I wish there wasn’t a culture of complaining at Hopkins. I certainly understand why it’s the case; we’re all a bunch of overachievers, and complaining is a way to validate the work that we do in a way that doesn’t seem braggy.
College has been such an eye-opening experience in terms of my identity. It has made me think critically about who I am, what my values are and what is important to me in life.