Throughout my high school career, I never considered how much work I would have to put in in order to be successful by the world’s definition. Here I am, senior year, with a 3.3 GPA, barely holding on, and terrified of what could happen in the next twelve years of my life. I’ve been on various college campus visits, places like Virginia State University, James Madison University, and the University of Virginia, all of which I couldn’t get excited about.
Meanwhile, people around me seem thrilled to move on to their next chapter, sharing dorms with new people, maybe moving away from family, and being able to start working for what they want out of life. For them, it all starts with a university.
But I can’t fathom the idea of not being home, using communal bathrooms, not being able to drive on campus my freshman year (which is a policy for many universities), eating food my taste buds can’t get along with, sharing a room with a stranger, and possibly graduating college in serious debt. My grade point average gives me no leverage, as it isn’t nearly high enough to get me into what some colleges call the “honors dormitories,” where students with an exceptional GPA get everything in better condition with better amenities. All this makes me feel like college has a huge hierarchy…