Narrative
While trekking through approximately six inches of snow on unplowed upstate New York roads, I knew my college graduation was going to be memorable for more than just the diploma. I was aware that graduating a semester early meant forfeiting an outdoor, spring ceremony, but I never imagined I’d be walking almost a mile uphill in unrelenting snowfall to get to my first event of the day, the Honors Ceremony. I was being recognized by the journalism department as an outstanding student, based on my grade point average and recommendations from my professors. I had challenged myself and worked rigorously my entire college career for this moment, and now I was in danger of missing it. My family, who was driving two and half hours from downstate, was running late as well, slowed down significantly by dangerous roads and multiple car accidents. They too were determined to see the last member of the family graduate and receive this honor, and turning around to go back home was definitely not an option.
Eventually, I conquered the storm, and showed up just a couple of minutes late, with my family shuffling in, anxious expressions on their faces, soon after. The already intimate ceremony was half full, undoubtedly due to the weather, and I thought about just how disappointed I would be if I was unable to make it. I watched each student go up one by one as their name was called, smiling largely and proudly for the photographer and, I’m sure, for themselves. When my name was finally called, I didn’t care about how bad my hair looked from my hat, or how ridiculous snow boots looked with my outfit. This award was for my final project in radio journalism that, despite hours spent in the recording studio alone, I got an A on. “I’m blown away,” said my radio professor, Lisa Philips. It was for the story I wrote for literary journalism that was published in The Rambler, a national literary non-fiction magazine. My professor, Howard Good, proudly announced this to his classes and fellow professors. This award was for my hard work, and I deserved it.
My graduation was a memorable day, but everyday leading up to it at the State University of New York at New Paltz truly changed my life. I transferred to SUNY New Paltz in the fall of 2007 after an unfulfilling experience at another state school for two and a half semesters (I spent one semester abroad in London, which was, of course, incredible). SUNY New Paltz offered a journalism major in the beautiful Hudson Valley region of upstate New York, just one and a half hours away from New York City. I thrived in the tight knit community. I got a job at the local bakery and worked there for two years. I became friendly with all the regular customers, and got to watch the locals and students interact and coexist peacefully. It was a huge change from a run down college town that lacked culture and vitality, and it was exactly what I needed to motivate my creativity.
Consistently sitting front row center in every class, I always made sure to participate in discussions and volunteer when necessary. By being involved in each class, I became friendly with every professor I had, and I still keep in touch with each of them to this day. My involvement in class and growing interest in the field of journalism showed in my work. Articles I had written were frequently shared with the class as an example for other students to learn from. I became a staff writer for The Oracle, the student-run newspaper. I took on as much work as I knew I could handle. I made Deans list every semester while at SUNY New Paltz. Transferring, though met with opposition from my parents initially, turned out to be one of the most fulfilling and beneficial decisions I have made. I was finally receiving the education I wanted, rather than half-heartedly going through the motions in a vague English program at my previous university, where I was often lost amongst the sea of students in lecture halls.