Perfect '10- Cristine

All right, so lets just face it: food is a very important part of a college student’s day. Most people plan their schedule accordingly so that they can miss the meals they know they can get by without, or so they never miss a meal. I, on the other hand, am unable to make a schedule that does not directly conflict with lunch. My first day of classes this semester, I was entirely excited because I thought I had two hours to run my errands, get my books and sit down for lunch at my favorite mealtime location: the Class Center, home of the new batch of entirely outgoing friends I’d made throughout the first semester. Wrong. Halfway through my turkey sandwich, and just beginning a slightly sarcastic story with my friends, I checked my schedule nonchalantly, just to make sure I knew where I would be going. Then I realized my class did not start at 1:15 today. Oh no, it started at 12:45. It was now 12:42. Now, most people would probably shrug it off and either go late, or just go on Tuesday. I however, have this slight obsession with not missing class; one that I’ve been told will lessen as my years at A&M dwindle. Nonetheless, I stopped everything, and bolted out the door. Never had I been more thankful for the short distance between G. Rollie and the MSC than I was that day. In a minute and a half I was in the doors of G. Rollie, thinking I was in the clear. Wrong again. G. Rollie should be called the Great Maze. Who knew to get to a second floor classroom you had to go up a flight of stairs, walk, and then go down another set? And that was my first, true freshmen moment this year; that is until I ran into about three upperclassmen, looking for the exact same room.

Perfect '10- Stephanie

In high school, the first day back after Christmas break was a huge deal. OK, so maybe it wasn’t as big as the first day back after summer, but it was pretty heavy stuff. I mean, come on, a new semester, a new lunch period, new classes, new clothes to wear to those classes, the list goes on and on. College, however, is completely different. You’d think the two “ice days” we were given would heighten the anticipation of starting classes, not so. I woke up for my 9:10 a.m. class, seriously considered not even going, and slowly rolled out of bed. The freshman voice inside me told me that I needed to look cute. Come on, it’s the first day back, and who knows who will be in my classes. Dressing cute actually did come in quite useful though, because on my way to class, I totally saw Antanas Kavaliauskas, and we had eye contact for a good five seconds.
So anyway, I walk into my first class of the day and realize that I am the only one not wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. I wasn’t really dressed up — just jeans and a sweater (it was new, and I had to wear it) — but I felt like I was wearing a prom dress that went out of style 15 years ago. My hair was down while every other girl’s was up in a bun or ponytail. I sat down, trying to ignore the eyes following me, all screaming “freshman!”
I was late to my next class, so not only was I the dressed-up girl, I was the dressed-up, late girl who couldn’t find a seat and had to squeeze through a row of five people to sit down. So right then, I decided to become engrossed in my Oceanography syllabus, which I studied until the professor said we could leave.
By my third and last class of the day, being dressed up was the last thing on my mind. I was just ready to go back to my room, sleep, eat some carrots and watch “Pride and Prejudice.” I looked at my printed schedule to see where my last class was and there, under COMM 205, was BLOC 137. Blocker. My last class was in Blocker. Why? Of all buildings on campus, it had to be Blocker, the oddly-shaped, stained building with tiny classrooms and desks made for elementary kids. I had a class there last semester, and being the naïve freshman that I am, I assumed it would be my last. Little did I know that being a Liberal Arts major, Blocker would be the home for several of my future classes. As I sat in my miniature desk, comparing the room’s color and smell to my junior high school, I saw him. And by him, I mean the nicest looking guy I’ve ever seen in my entire life. He was walking towards the classroom. I found myself hoping he was a petroleum engineering major who played soccer and loved taking girls to nice restaurants. I have no clue what he would be doing in a communication class, but fate has a funny way of working. He seemed like a Ryan or maybe something really hot like Cole or Jake. I had almost completely decided on Cole when he stopped in front of the classroom. ‘This is it,’ I thought. ‘I’ll be telling this story of how we met for years to come.’ He looked in the room, then at the wall outside, and then onto a sheet of paper. He squinted, then looked up and continued walking down the hall. Lovely. Now I’m stuck in Blocker for 70 minutes every Tuesday and Thursday without the hottest boy alive to keep me occupied. Spring break is not going to come fast enough.

Freshmen at Large- Cristine

Dorm, apartment, home, “off campus dorm.” Where you live your first year in college tends to play a vital role in your freshmen experience. I began the year in a fabulous off campus dorm. It was within a reasonable walking distance to campus, I had my own bedroom and I shared living room. It seemed like the dream dorm for a freshman. That was until about two weeks into school when I realized the majority of the people I had met lived on campus. Then, a week after that, I started realizing I was spending so much time on campus for meetings, class and studying, that I was usually on campus more than I was off of it during the day, and for that matter, even sometimes night. And then there’s that whole “freshmen experience” thing: having to share space with someone, wondering what your pot-luck roommate is going to be like, and then enjoying the on campus company of all your friends. About two days before I was to return to College Station after break, I found out I would be allowed to move out of my old residence and into a nice modular dorm on the south side of campus. Now, you may wonder why on earth anyone would switch to sharing a room, but it’s like I said, the freshmen experience. I’ll probably never have the option to live on campus ever again, and I don’t want to look back and feel like I missed out on something. But going from your own bedroom to sharing one is kind of a big deal, and needless to say, the past week has been hectic. But we made due. I no longer have to drive or make a 15 minute trek to see my friends. Now it’s just a phone call and a card swipe away. Sharing a room was surprisingly a very easy transition, and now I know I’m getting the freshmen experience, for better or for worse.

Freshmen at Large- Stephanie

I thought Christmas break would be the best thing ever. No more lectures, no more finals, no more creepy guys. I would live in an actual house. You know, with more than one bathroom and multiple seating options. When I first walked through the doors into my living room, I twitched slightly due to the expansive windows, wood floors and tall ceilings. It was almost too good to be true. There was so much space that I just wanted to run in circles letting out all the energy I had pent up while living in a dorm. I could sing as loud as I wanted to that Carrie Underwood song about the guy who’s cheating on her without even a thought about my neighbors hearing me, much less knocking on my door and asking me to refrain from singing for the rest of my life. There I was, holding a laundry basket full of t-shirts, hair products and a lime green plastic cage for my hermit crab that I don’t think will ever die. I dropped everything on the living room floor and went straight to the couch.
When I woke up a few hours later, I came to a very obvious realization. I wasn’t in College Station anymore. If I wanted Pita Pit, I couldn’t get it. If I had the sudden urge to take pictures with the Sul Ross statue, I couldn’t do it. Even if I wanted to drag race down University, which I would never want to do anyway, I couldn’t. Of course all I’d have to do is get in my car and drive for an hour and I could get my pita, take some boring pictures and risk getting in a fatal accident, but I wanted instant gratification. Could it be that I actually missed College Station?
Yes. I did. So much that I began to miss things that I once hated seeing. For example, Blocker, the misshapen, stained building that I would rather fail my class than walk into. I missed the desk that nearly gave me scoliosis. I missed the coffee lady who always told me that she was sold out of blueberry muffins. I missed the bland walls covered in huge block-lettered posters for Fade to Black and Writer’s Club. I missed the streets and the random little buildings like The Kettle on University that I had never seen open. All these things that had once been unnoticed and even despised suddenly became sentimental to me. I know it’s crazy, but I love College Station.