College, 20 Years Later
Last weekend I went to my 20-year college reunion. Having gone to a small liberal arts college (about 1600 students) in Los Angeles, we do have reunions, unlike
name_redacted , who was one of the faceless thousands at UC Irvine. I actually transferred to my school midway through sophomore year, having been gently asked not to return to my first college, a religious institution across the Mississippi River from St. Louis. (Drinking was not permitted, and while none of my drinking was ever done on campus, I was such a repeat offender - caught twice! - that a fairly mutual decision was made that I should not continue my education there. While I was disappointed that I wouldn't continue studying Russian, I was not disappointed to leave the Midwest, or the strict conservative religious atmosphere I'd been living in.)
Where I went from there was almost a matter of who would have me, applying for the transfer as I did near the end of fall term for entry in January. UCLA said "no," and I think that O- was the only other place I applied. I had to interview with the Dean upon my arrival the first day of classes, and she expressed her concern that I would experience culture shock, what with the co-ed dorms, room doors with locks, drinking, etc. I assured her I would be fine. I jumped right into formal sorority rush and made an effort to meet many of the people in my dorm. My sorority became my salvation and my social life. I lived in the house my last two years, dated someone off-campus, and had a major which meant taking at least one class at UCLA.
I was a bit unsure about going to the reunion. While some of my closest friends date back to those years, many of my college friends weren't going. I didn't really know that many people. An introvert by nature, I'm not one of those who makes a lot of friends easily. But everyone encouraged me to go, and one of my friends and I would be staying with our classmates in one of the dorms. It was fun, great to be back on campus, which is beautiful, to revisit old haunts, and see a few old friends, but also frustrating and kind of crushing to the old ego at the same time. While everyone remembered my friend, said she looked exactly the same (she does), virtually no one remembered me. I was the 6-foot tall elephant in the room. Several people even asked me if I'd attended the school or if I'd been in the class of '89. Ouch. It was a hearty relief to get back to work Monday where people remember my name.
Am I glad I went? Yes and no. It was nice to get away for a weekend, but too hard on my self-esteem. I have great memories of college; they just don't involve the large majority of my classmates.
name_redacted , who was one of the faceless thousands at UC Irvine. I actually transferred to my school midway through sophomore year, having been gently asked not to return to my first college, a religious institution across the Mississippi River from St. Louis. (Drinking was not permitted, and while none of my drinking was ever done on campus, I was such a repeat offender - caught twice! - that a fairly mutual decision was made that I should not continue my education there. While I was disappointed that I wouldn't continue studying Russian, I was not disappointed to leave the Midwest, or the strict conservative religious atmosphere I'd been living in.)
Where I went from there was almost a matter of who would have me, applying for the transfer as I did near the end of fall term for entry in January. UCLA said "no," and I think that O- was the only other place I applied. I had to interview with the Dean upon my arrival the first day of classes, and she expressed her concern that I would experience culture shock, what with the co-ed dorms, room doors with locks, drinking, etc. I assured her I would be fine. I jumped right into formal sorority rush and made an effort to meet many of the people in my dorm. My sorority became my salvation and my social life. I lived in the house my last two years, dated someone off-campus, and had a major which meant taking at least one class at UCLA.
I was a bit unsure about going to the reunion. While some of my closest friends date back to those years, many of my college friends weren't going. I didn't really know that many people. An introvert by nature, I'm not one of those who makes a lot of friends easily. But everyone encouraged me to go, and one of my friends and I would be staying with our classmates in one of the dorms. It was fun, great to be back on campus, which is beautiful, to revisit old haunts, and see a few old friends, but also frustrating and kind of crushing to the old ego at the same time. While everyone remembered my friend, said she looked exactly the same (she does), virtually no one remembered me. I was the 6-foot tall elephant in the room. Several people even asked me if I'd attended the school or if I'd been in the class of '89. Ouch. It was a hearty relief to get back to work Monday where people remember my name.
Am I glad I went? Yes and no. It was nice to get away for a weekend, but too hard on my self-esteem. I have great memories of college; they just don't involve the large majority of my classmates.