Aug. 11, 2016 was the first day I stepped on the Homewood Campus as a student. Like many 18-year-olds, I thought I had a good grasp on who I was and who I wanted to be, and I was so excited for what this new journey would bring me. I was coming to a top university to play football and to study to become a doctor. College was going to be the best years of my life, right?
For most of my life, I thought I was dumb. Or at least, incompetent. It felt like nothing I did was good enough, and the bureaucracy of semi-decent public high schools didn’t help much. Additionally, as I was finishing up high school, I saw how expensive college was, and so I couldn’t take the idea of college seriously. I didn’t understand financial aid, and my non-English-speaking parents certainly did not either. It wasn’t like I felt like I was learning much in high school anyways – how could college be any better? I was always just so tired all the time. What was the point? Was I just doing it all for a piece of paper?
Sometimes the things I say sound like the babbling of a romantic idealist. My motivations for physics are too far removed from reality, my reasons for loving the subject too “soft,” and so I don’t know if I have ever really fit into the straight-back mold of an algorithmic physicist.
No matter where you go, or who you are, the beginning of a college career is always filled with anxiety. Am I smart enough to be here? Will people like me here? Did I make the right choice? These are ideas going through everyone’s heads, and for the most part, we are all aware of how they can shape our acclimation to Hopkins.
I cannot pretend to have been an FFC aficionado as a freshman. I actively avoided eating there in favor of a combination of Levering Kitchens, CharMar sandwiches and veggie burgers from Brody Cafe. However, there’s still a lot to be said about having the freshman year dining hall experience and how you can make the most out of it.
Fall is just around the corner, and that means returning to campus and living with other people. Let’s face it: Accommodating others is markedly harder than being by yourself. Here’s a list of dos and don’ts to help you navigate your social inadequacies!
If you never step foot off of Homewood campus or leave the Hopkins bubble, then you will never really take advantage of all your opportunities here at Hopkins. All students should get to know the city that they’ll be calling home for the next four years, but it can be intimidating to know where to start in a new place.
It’s far too easy to get caught up in the Hopkins bubble — here are some neat places to explore during the weekend or on a study break.
“I really liked spring semester as a whole. You’ll hear a lot of older students telling you that second semester is better than the first. They’re right. First semester is cool because you get introduced to a bunch of new and amazing people, but it’s also difficult because of all the adjusting."
Congratulations! You’re a Hopkins freshman! Get ready for the next four years to be filled with… well, what do you want them to be filled with?
Of all of the things that can overwhelm incoming freshmen, the academic rigor of Johns Hopkins is one of the more common ones. Even though the students here are among the best and brightest that high schools have to offer, it’s no secret that a prestigious university like Hopkins is a challenge for everyone. Grades are a popular fixation among students everywhere, and there’s really only one way to get the ones you want: studying. Whether you’re a student who studied well in high school or a student who hasn’t had to study in their life, preparing for tests in college can be intimidating. So, to hopefully make studying less scary, I’ll share some of my tips for more effective test prep.
Whether you’re still wearing your lanyard (please take her off), vomiting illegal liquids into the communal bathroom sink, or facing newfound commitment issues with romantic partners and extracurriculars, this year is sure to bring a multitude of missteps and debacles. But fret not! How else will you mature from a collegiate fetus into a wise Blue Jay?
As someone from a small town (as in, I can’t get groceries without running into half of my graduating class), one of the things I was most excited about when I started college was getting to live in a bigger city like Baltimore.
“Are you planning on going to medical school?” This question has plagued me since my decision to attend Hopkins. The University is known primarily as a science, technology, engineering and mathematics — or STEM — school. We have an outstanding, world-renowned medical school, fantastic research opportunities at various labs around campus and no shortage of a multitude of science and engineering advances made by Hopkins researchers.
After 13 years of dying to leave Korea, I spent much of my first semester at Hopkins wanting to go back.
Dear Freshman Jessica, I have decided to take the time and effort to write you this letter because I know you need it. Really. You think you know better but you’re wrong. I can see through the smiles and the small talk and the social media posts and “everything-is-great-why-would-you-think-otherwise” facade. You’re homesick. You’re stressed. You dread large social gatherings. You sleep five hours a night (on a good night). You really hate calculus. You hate the rain and the humidity and the snow and are really starting to regret not going to sunny UCLA with the rest of Glendora High School.
The Beach Behind the Hopkins sign lies a large grassy expanse. Though nowhere near the ocean, this field is called “The Beach.” In warmer weather, students hang out and have picnics. In colder weather, students build snowmen, go sledding and have snowball fights.
I am, as my mother would say, a “sensitive person who feels things deeply.” She’s not wrong. I have atopic dermatitis — a fancy medical term for “sensitive deep-feeler.” When I’m upset, a rash breaks out on my arms; when I’m stressed, I get bacne that looks like a topographical map of a piece of pizza. Even when I try hiding my feelings, my skin betrays me.
It’s 9 a.m., and you’re trying to rush home before anyone sees you in oversized sweatpants and a T-shirt, carrying your clothes from last night. The infamous walk of shame. But why do we label it as shameful? Why do we consider sex shameful?
In seventh grade, somewhere between the classes that neither students nor teachers cared about and the hormone and Axe-filled gym period, we had one hour set aside every week to visit the library. While I’m sure I would have preferred the patented middle school time-waster coolmathgames.com, the presence of our terrifying school librarian forced me to pretend to actually read.
