Editors’ Letters: “Don’t make my Fresh mistakes

September 2011

It’s a hot, sunny weekend when I arrive at Warwick, a 2011 fresher. I arrive at halls and eagerly look around, frowning a little at the showers. I’m the first there and nervous about meeting everyone. I hope they’ll keep the kitchen tidy. At the Fairs I am overwhelmed. I want to write for The Boar, learn the Argentine Tango, play netball again, get back into musical theatre. I go to the Language Centre but ultimately decide not to take a language in my first year – after all, I don’t know how much the workload will be. The Arts Centre looks amazing, I think, how wonderful to have a theatre right on my doorstep! I’m going to go there all the time.

It’s pretty safe to say I’m pretty scared. I don’t know what’s around the next bend. At least I know I want to be a journalist, I tell myself. Plenty of people won’t know what they want to do. I must have a headstart, and there’s so much you can do with an English degree.

I send an email to The Boar to ask about joining. I never hear back, and I decide that if I ever get onto the editorial team I will make it much less cliquey. It should be accessible. There should be a Facebook group for Freshers before they even arrive.

It’s pretty safe to say I’m pretty scared. I don’t know what’s around the next bend.

My reading list fills me with the nerdiest glee. Some of my peers at school chose their universities based on factors like nightlife, distance from home, city. I decided to choose based on course alone. I hope I made the right choice. I don’t know what feminist theory is and I don’t know how to define postmodernism. I don’t know what my tutors will want from my essays.

Most of all, I want to take advantage of all the opportunities the experience of university offers me. I want to sign up for everything and never sleep. I want to read and write and dance and make deep, fabulous friendships with girls who Get It and I want to laugh more every day and breathe in and breathe out my new found freedom. I want to grow up and go up in the world and find my calling.

And, to an extent, I do. But day by day, I lower my expectations. I become more realistic as I monitor my calendar and my bank balance. Instead of going to that Mandarin class, I log into Facebook.

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September 2013

It’s a miserable, grey, rainy weekend when I arrive at Warwick, a 2013 finalist. I turn a familiar key and look around fondly at my cosy little home, peeping into my friends’ rooms. I’m the first back and can’t wait to see them. I thank God I’m not in the obnoxious dinge and dirt of halls anymore. I think about how much time I wasted in first year and scroll longingly through the Language Centre website. If I’d done Mandarin in first year I’d be graduating this year fairly proficient. I look at the fees; is it worth paying to graduate as a beginner? Now that I work at the Arts Centre I gleefully book myself in to my first show and shake my head at my empty first year booking record. What a waste. What did I do with all that time?

It’s pretty safe to say I’m scared. I don’t know what’s around the next bend. Do I even still want to be a journalist, I ask myself? Could I be a lawyer? Clinical psychology looks fascinating. What am I supposed to do with an English degree? Ugh, I want to get out of the UK. No jobs, no sun, no prospects

My course has consistently challenged me, fulfilled me, inspired me.

I reply to a post on the Boar Freshers page. I’m so excited to welcome a new group of writers as Deputy Editor of a paper named Student Publication of the Year. I can’t wait to see what new ideas and content they’ll have for us when they arrive.

My reading list still fills me with the same nerdy glee. I privately thank my 17 year old self for choosing Warwick based on course alone. My course has consistently challenged me, fulfilled me, inspired me. I run a feminist website, I can write confidently about postmodernism, and I know the right time to describe something as “meta”. I still don’t know what my tutors what from my essays, but I know what I want from my essays, and I know that matters more.

Most of all, I wish I’d taken more advantage of all the opportunities university offered me. I see an arty movie at the Arts Centre with the girls who Get It and at the end of the day I add up what I spent and balance my books and I buy train tickets to London for what feels like my hundredth work experience placement, and I’m proud of myself because I’ve grown up and gone up in the world and understand that I don’t need, just yet, to know my calling.

But I wish I’d never lowered my expectations. I wish my calendar and my bank balance hadn’t hit me in the face with reality. I wish, and I really wish, I’d spent much less time on Facebook.

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Header Image courtesy of Warwick Media Library