Back when I was a senior in high school, my heart was set on going to a small, private, liberal arts college with old brick buildings, lush green grass and exorbitant tuition – much like many of the other students with whom I graduated in June 2005.
Little did I know where I’d end up.
After a near-nervous breakdown in the last week of April of that year, I chose Stony Brook for several reasons. I came in undecided, and the long list of majors was appealing, as was the price (significantly less than the other schools I considered) and the location (close to home and a high school sweetheart).
It was the polar opposite of what I had been anticipating throughout high school – a large student population, public, set in suburbia – but it felt like the right thing to do. My mom has always been supportive of whatever I’ve decided to do and wherever I decided to go, and Stony Brook was no exception. Though she seemed worried I wouldn’t be happy there, because it was so different from where I had been envisioning myself throughout senior year.
“You can always transfer if you’re not happy there,” she told me.
Though I may have been better off not majoring in an arts program at a science-oriented university, I honestly couldn’t see myself attending any other school. The people I’ve met and opportunities I’ve had have made my time here so worthwhile. From starting off my first semester with Learning Communities – it’s unfortunate that it is no longer running – to finishing it with Alternative Spring Break Outreach, it has been one hell of a ride.
I’ve learned many skills, including time management for all those last-minute English papers, how to avoid making eye contact with varying creepers, and having less than $200 on a meal plan last three weeks – quite a feat for a procrastinator, creeper magnet and an individual with a bottomless stomach.
That is not to say Stony Brook is not without its flaws, far from it, in fact. Class enrollment, room selection, overpriced meals, food poisoning (avoid the pizza from Kelly after 11 p.m., even if it looks edible, your stomach will hate you for it later), not finding a seat at the SAC during lunch due to swarms of high school students and charging money for transcripts are but a few of the issues I’ve faced. But no school is perfect, despite what the ’90s teen movies have led us all to believe. Even the fancy private schools have their vices, I’m just consider myself lucky that I didn’t have to pay an exorbitant amount of money to find that out the hard way.
Congratulations to the graduating class of 2009. If you managed to make it out in eight semesters like myself, you’ve earned a pat on the back. To all the super seniors… better late than never, right? My time here has been nothing short of memorable, but I’m ready to get off this island. Peace!
