That damn question followed me everywhere freshman year. During Thanksgiving break, it got especially sneaky.
"So, how's college?" some well-meaning friend or relative would ask. And there I'd stand, torn between appeasement and honesty. Freshman year was one of the most difficult times of my life, but these details never seemed appropriate for casual conversation. Still, I'd inevitably go with honesty.
"It's, uh, I guess it's OK," I'd say, leaving the asker in some cross of disappointment and confusion.
OK? Just OK? After all, everyone else said they loved college. "I love it!" had become a freshman-year mantra of sorts, and that made me feel all the worse for not loving it. For not even liking it all that much. But the truth was, Penn was just OK.
When I'd decided on Penn back in late April of my senior year in high school, I had high hopes for the school and college life in general. I had expected long conversations that would wax philosophical late into the night; sure, I didn't exactly know who Kant and Hegel were, but I would discuss them. I had expected a student body of pure intellectuals who would dazzle me with the way they continued class discussions outside of the lecture hall and with their willingness to take Postmodern Poetry instead of some simple "Rocks for Jocks" class. I had expected fast friends.
I found a bit of that, sure, but I also found a social structure that can be frustrating and disheartening at best. I found that cliques and "cool" hadn't stayed behind in middle school. I found that for every engaged, creative professor, there were just as many who didn't care. I found that Penn was, well, just OK.
Early into my sophomore year, I decided to become a tour guide. I would be the honest tour guide, I reasoned, telling potential Quakers the truth about Penn. I would illuminate the good and the bad. I envisioned myself walking down Locust Walk, explaining that not all seminars are small bastions of insight and intellect, that sometimes frat parties with long lines and cheap beer are just frat parties with long lines and cheap beer and that you won't love everyone on your freshman-year hall. They probably won't all love you, either.
I went through all the training and all the information sessions -- Did you know, by the way, that there are over 3,000 images of Ben Franklin on campus? -- but I never actually gave a tour. Before I ever became a tour guide, I became an editor at The Daily Pennsylvanian and didn't have any spare time. But besides, I didn't really want to give "honest" tours anymore.
Penn, like any college, is just about finding your niche, your small sliver of school that connects you back to the larger Red and Blue community. And now, after four years here, I honestly believe that Penn, unlike most colleges, offers something for everyone. For some students, Penn was about the Palestra and the Penn Relays. For others, Penn meant i-banking internships and fraternity rush. For me, Penn was the DP, small writing seminars at the Kelly Writers House and finding friends who also liked to giggle too loud in the library.
But for everyone, really, Penn was all of that, none of that and something in between. That space in between is where the myth of college -- "I love it!" -- meets the reality -- "Yeah, I love a lot of it, but I dislike some of it, too." That space in between is what eventually made Penn better than fine for me. After all, where else can you drink Mad 4 margaritas with your roommates, take a writing class with a Washington Post reporter and fall in love, all in one semester. I wish I could offer advice better than, "You find your scene and then things get better," but that's really the secret to Penn.
The great irony is that now, just when I can finally say "I love it!" with almost total sincerity, it's also time for me to say goodbye. In a column, of all places. And it's hard saying goodbye, especially to a place where you have mixed feelings -- neither good riddance nor sweet sorrow.
So Class of 2005: Wherever you go, I hope you find your niche there, too.
And to you, dear Penn, goodbye.
Goodbye.
