As the congratulation confetti poured out of my acceptance letter (yes! I actually received confetti as a part of my acceptance letter), I knew the decision in applying at a small all-women’s liberal arts university completed my college application process.

Packing up the car for a short weekend, I fell absolutely in love with everything from the rolling mountains surrounding the university, the slew of handcrafted rocking chairs on the porches, all the way to the historical landmarked buildings. Every college student has that moment when they know that this is their school – and walking across the front quadrangle, I knew I found a place to start my college journey.

Little did I know, signing the paperwork and sending a $400 deposit for my enrollment to be a student in the 2010 class was my way of making a deal with the devil.

Since being in college, I have been through hell and back, and then some. The façade of a well polished community really seemed too good to be true, but once the parents left and the magical fairy dust of being a brand-spankin’ new college student wore off and our student IDs lost their luster, so did the support and cooperation of the administration, the ideals of “sisterhood” as a unique kinship that unites community (the word ‘sisterhood’ plays a major marketing role for all-women’s colleges across the nation and sororities), the spirit of traditions, and the premise that college is actually about learning subjects in a manner of breadth and depth. Read More »

I, like you, went to high school. When I was in high school, I already knew that I wanted to be a musician and a writer when I grew up. Even though neither of those professions require a degree, I was made to believe that I had to go to college to be successful in life. And so I packed my nervous bags and made way to New York by way of Ohio. I apprehensively took my place among thousands of other students at my school and I felt out of place immediately.

You see, I was always a ‘good’ student. I graduated high school with nearly a 4.0. I aced tests and papers without wincing and was in every club. Kids like me were supposed to go to college. Period. But I never wanted to.

I went because my parents wanted me to.

I dragged myself through four and a half years of college. I transferred schools. I worked 2 jobs (yes, 60+ hours a week) on top of being a full time student. I was miserable. I was utterly, thoroughly, entirely, unexplainably miserable until I decided not to go back to college. I was only a semester or so shy of my degree and I woke up and decided I was done. I made a decision for myself and not for my parents. Finally, I took control of my life and my happiness and I have never looked back since. Read More »

In a little under two weeks, I am going to college. Between the time I received Wellesley’s acceptance envelope and this very moment, I seemed to go through two basic emotions: excitement and terror. Excitement for the obvious reasons—no more telling my parents of my every location, no more taking classes just to make my college application look good, and no more dealing with the social drama of public high school, especially being around fourteen-year-old freshmen who think they know it all.

But wait.

Now it’s my turn to regress back to being a freshman, to leave the comfort of seniority to once again be pushed into a world where I am at the bottom of the ranks. This drop in status happened in middle school. It happened in high school. And I have no doubt it will happen in college. Read More »