This past summer, while everyone was in a chilled-out, lazy summer mood, I was the girl armed with her class schedule, 50 fliers, a campus map and the bus schedule. I was the one spinning around wildly with a deer-in-headlights look on my face, trying to figure out where my next class was.
No, I'm NOT a freshman (I don't know how many times I got asked that; some asked with a gentle tone followed by a "you poor little lamb" look, others not so much.). I am a transfer student. And I'm still a new, small fish in a big, swampy pond.
I've been to college before. Hell, I can even say that I've actually graduated from college. I know my way around a school. I know how drop/add works and how to make a schedule that doesn't have me waking up until 9:30 a.m. Starting at a school as big as UF, though, is a totally new experience for me. I feel like I have to start all over-I don't know anyone, I'm still walking dazed and confused around the school and I'm frustrated. It seems like everyone knows everyone else. People have things to do after class. People know exactly where they're going. I do not.
Don't get me wrong; I went to orientation. I listened to the important speeches (no open containers, no kegs, there is a club that helps you find other clubs you may want to join, yadda yadda). However, after we got our little orientation bag and complimentary pencil, we also got a polite shove out the door, followed by a "Go out there and be somebody!" I was left to navigate The Swamp by myself.
UF has all of these cutesy little handbooks and guides for freshmen, but transfer students kind of get the short end of the stick. We are new to UF, but by now, most of us have figured out how to navigate through college and all that comes with it. But no one tells you which bus you need to take to get home. No one tells you how to decline the 50 bajillion people handing out fliers on Turlington Plaza. I wasn't told what the smoking policy is on campus, although, judging from how many people give me the stank-eye as I practically ate my cancer sticks from stress, smoking is akin to grilling and eating small children.
I realize this isn't my first semester of kindergarten-I don't expect anyone to hold my hand. I would appreciate a little kindness, though. Weren't YOU once the new kid here?
This fall will be my second semester here, and I still feel like a new kid. I've moved 12 times in my life, including to a different continent (When your dad is in the Air Force, your brain screams, "Pack up, move out!" after three years in one place.). When you're 6, you make friends by marching up to someone on the playground and boom: Before you know it, you're trading stickers and planning a sleepover. When you're 22, that doesn't fly.
There is nothing wrong with being a freshman-we've all been one somewhere. But I have two years of college under my belt-please don't be condescending when I ask where the nearest Starbucks is! With the degrading stigma of being labeled "freshman," I'm debating whether or not to carry around my AA diploma to flash like an ID card. Or maybe I'll just suck it up and tell myself that, one day, I'll stop being the lost little new girl and start giving directions myself.
Ashley Cruel is a journalism junior.
