College degree cannot come soon enough for this junior

Paul Williams

Graduation is a year away for me and I’m already itching to leave. Not to mention the fact that I am fighting this escalating urge to burn my degree once I get it in my hand. Whoa, did I just say that?

Let me count the plethora of examples of how frustrating college life has been up to this point. You know the old clich, “you’ll meet the people you’ll be friends with for life in college.” Can someone restrain me from scratching their eyes out?

Freshman year in Woodcrest, my RA posted a poem from a “Chicken Soup for the College Soul” book in our hallway, insinuating that my roommate would be my bestest friend in the world. In hindsight, I would graffiti that piece of paper with expletives and negations. It is one thing to be someone’s friend and another thing to live with them; I’m sure we can all attest to that.

I know I shouldn’t be holding onto high school memories like the handlebars of a speeding rollercoaster but I definitely appreciated the encouragement my teachers offered back then. Now, every time that I mention a particular goal or suggest a prospective task, I’m put down faster than a hot mug. How does one flourish in that kind of environment? I like to think of potential as a bad word – the worst thing is a wasted mind, right?

I’ve also lost count of the times I’ve walked that mile from Radnor station in the pitch-dark carrying luggage better suited for a mule. I have cursed the cars that drive up to the campus ignoring the short girl who is huffing and puffing her way towards the tree-lined boondocks. One person, and one person only in the past three years, has offered me a ride back to the dorms. I hold very few people to the same high esteem on campus as I do that person.

So to condense my whiney and impossibly childish-sounding thoughts, I believe that the degree will be a reminder of a college life full of unpleasant memories. I plan on telling my aunt to bury or hide it somewhere for me, just in case I have to show proof of my B.A. I’d also like to think that the year I have left will redeem the leech-filled lagoon of memories of the previous three.

Published to the web by: Cecelia Francisco