Sigh, the lazy summer is over...

Today I made the (obviously bad) decision to stop in the school's bookstore to pick something up. Apparently, it's been so long since I first started college that I'd forgotten what a complete and total madhouse college bookstores are the day before classes start. I'm standing in the mile-long line for the registers and I couldn't help but overhear a zillion conversations between mostly new students. Freshman, of course, have not yet learned that it's actually cheaper to buy their books online or at one of the off-campus bookstores. Anyway, it was so entertaining to listen to them introduce themselves, talk about what classes they're taking, what dorm they live in, etc. that it got me thinking about my first few days of college.

In a word, they were terrifying. I was in no way, shape or form ready to start college. I was way too happy with my friends and way too comfortable with my familiar life at home, and college was just way too big of a change for me. But, since all of my friends were going to college and I had no intention of being left behind, I went. Looking back, this was probably one of the biggest and best growing experiences of my life (as college should be), but back then, I felt like my life was literally being ripped apart at the seams and sewn back together into something I didn't recognize. In a way I guess it was, and I suppose that's what happends to most kids who go away to college. Anyway, I remember my first week at school being confusing, if nothing else. I had spent my entire life in the same house, going to school with the same people and now, there I was, all alone and wondering how on earth I'd ever find friends as good as I'd had growing up. It eventually happened, of course, but man did that first week suck.

My high school friend's boyfriend happened to be a sophomore at my college and he called on the 2nd or 3rd day to see if I wanted to hang out and I don't think I'd ever been so happy to see a familiar face in my entire life. We didn't know each other that well, but it didn't matter because he was the closest thing I had to home.

I think what I remember being the most difficult part of that first week was the inevitable choice of whether or not to party. Let's face it, partying at college happens. A lot. And the year I started at my school, it made Playboy's top 5 party schools. Yet I hadn't been much of a partier in high school. Sure, I'd been to parties with alcohol (sorry mom & dad), and sure, I'd had a few drinks before (sorry again), but at that point I preferred sobriety and let me tell you, there is nothing worse than being the only sober person at a frat party. But I was fully in the minority in the party debate. I totally understand the lure of that first week of college. You're away from home and fully independent for the first time, mom & dad aren't going to check up on you and even if they do, they'll never really know what you're up to. And besides, it's college--everybody's doing it.

I wasn't against people partying, I just didn't want to do it myself. I think I lucked out in that not many people gave me a hard time because I went to parties, but didn't drink, and I didn't have a "holier-than-thou" attitude about it. So I quickly established myself as the "mother hen" of my floor. Did you drink youself into oblivion and now need someone to peel you off the bathroom floor or hold your hair while you puke? Knock on my door because I'm probably the only one sober enough to do either of those things. Tired of that pervy frat boy trying to convince you to go up to his room, but too drunk to think straight? Find me and I'll steer you away (he's probably too drunk to put up much of a fight anyway). Until I found my niche, it was actually an ok set-up (except for the whole puking part. That got annoying).

I thought about all of this as I listened to the students around me at the bookstore today and I wondered how many of them face the same dilemma I had faced, or how many of them realize how fast friends can and will change in this environment, at least at first. I didn't stay the sober party-goer. By my sophomore year I was just as ready as the next person to imbibe (ok mom & dad, just take me out of the will now)--but not at frat parties. I always hated frat parties. And indeed, the niche I had found my freshman year and was not the niche I had for the rest of my college career. Sometimes I start to worry for my students, but then I remember that I ended up really really happy at college, and they probably will, too.

Sometimes my job really sucks....

It's Sunday night and there's a knot in my stomach. Why? Because tomorrow we're dismissing one of our students from the program I work for. It's not that we haven't lost students before; ultimately, given the backgrounds of some of our students, we expect that we'll lose a few of them along the way. They are fighting huge odds to make it through college, and while the program is meant to help them face and overcome those odds, sometimes it just doesn't work. There's a quote, and I can't remember who said it, but it goes something like, "you can only give people opportunities and chances. What they do with this is up to them". Our program is the opportunity and chance, and the students we have lost along the way (and when I say lost I mean, are no longer at the University) were all academically dismissed. Until now.

Tomorrow, we're dismissing a student for his conduct. It's not that it's not justified; it is, and while I can't really get into the details of his dismissal from the program, it's based on his behavior and his attitude and some pretty big infractions. What makes this so difficult is that he was one of my "origianal" students back in Baltimore City. When he was nominated for this award, I went to bat for him with the nominating committe, who at first refused to even think about letting him compete for the award. He was well known around his high school to have a pretty bad attitude, but the teachers who had taken the time to get to know him, myself included, knew that a.) his attitude was a result of a horrific childhood, one that didn't really include parenting of any kind, unless you count the education he got on the streets. I kid you not--after being abandoned by both of his parents, and put out of his house by his severely abusive aunt at age eleven, he spent the next three years as a drug dealer (yes, you calculated correctly--he was 12, 13, & 14 years old when he dealt drugs) living in vacant houses until he was eventually placed in a group home, which in Baltimore, is one of the last placed kids want to be. This guy truly is a product of Baltimore City streets.

Anyway, so when most of the school wanted to write him off, a few of us rallied around this kid. Why? Because underneath his street-tough exterior, he was desperate for a chance to show what he could do. He was smart, he was focused in school, and he made me believe that more than anything, he wanted to turn his life around. And I still believe that's true, although I think he's found life outside of Baltimore City more confusing and difficult than he expected. Once he won the award, he came to the University with high hopes that things might be as easy here as it was in high school. By the time I got to this job, at the beginning of his sophomore year, he was struggling. By the end of the fall semester, he was sprialing down so fast, it was all any of us could do to try to cushion what we were certain would be a very hard crash landing. Turns out it took him a little longer to fall than we thought, and he's crashed much much harder.

So after frustrating heart-to-heart conversations with him, after incident after incident, after incident, after threats from several of the higher-ups at the University, after much discussion, and a heart-breaking decision, he's being dismissed. At this point, he's just being dismissed from the program, but there is a good chance he'll be dismissed form the University, and not for academic reasons, like every other student we've lost from our program. What is bothering me the most about what's about to happen to him, is that I fear for what's going to happen to him. I am afraid that he will not be able to survive this and will dive head-first down a path that will lead to either a very long jail sentence or his death. I know I'm probably sounding very dramatic, but this kid is hanging on by a very thin thread.

What makes our decision so necessary, is partly bureaucratic (we are a program that runs on donations), and partly for this student himself. He is in a place where he doesn't understand how to exist outside of Baltimore City. He doesn't understand the unspoken social "rules" of living in a society where most people obey all the laws--not just the big ones--and where most people understand there is a hierarchy of authority and that it exists for a reason and ultimately, that reason is good. In his mind, we are all against him. Every single time something happens, he not only refuses to take responsibility for his actions, I don't think he can even understand why his actions may have been wrong because in his world, in Baltimore City, they probably aren't wrong at all. And countless conversations have failed to budge his perceptions. So, he's managed to create his own obstacles and inevitably, he runs into them.

Our hope is that this dismissal might be the wake-up call that he needs. We--I--hope that he might take this disappointment and want to prove me wrong (because in his eyes, he will not deserve this dimissal. Everything that's happened to him is everyone else's fault). I hope that once the shock settles in (and he will be shocked), and if the University doesn't dismiss him after their own review, I hope he stays and graduates, and I hope he'll want to come back to my office to throw it in my face, to tell me how we might have tried, but didn't beat him down, that he got back up and finished school. Right now, as I wait for the meeting tomorrow, I'm crossing my fingers tightly and hoping for that exact scenario tow years form now.

Apparently, I am not marriage material....

I'm sure everyone's seen the now-infamous article from Forbes Magazine's website. If you haven't, you should check it out here. When I first heard about the article, it was not an opinion piece. It was a feature article on their homepage. Apparently, it wasn't until the virtual (literally) uproar of some seriously pissed off women that Forbes took the article down, had a woman write a counterpoint article, and re-posted it as an opinion piece. I think it pretty much speaks for itself. Warning to the FI: if you marry me, I am more likely to cheat, your house will be dirtier, and I'll ultimately just be generally unhappy. Why? Because I have a college degree, I work more than 35 hours/week and I make more than $30,00/year. Yeah, I thought it sounded a little ridiculous.

This is why I loved living alone....

The Fiance and I live with two other roommates. I know, in terms of the best way to start our life together, this kind of sucks. In terms of finances, it's awesome, and in the grand scheme of things, it's only temporary. Considering the living situation we're in, we really did luck out. Our house is big enough that 4 of us live there without feeling like we're on top of each other, and our roommates are two of the most un-intrusive people we could ever ask for. In other words, we're all nice and courteous to each other, but they don't bother us and we don't bother them.

Unfortunately, even the best roommate situations have their challenges. For example, the Fiance and I don't have our own bathroom. Because I moved in after the other three were already here, we didn't have a chance to claim the sweet master bedroom with private bath (and jacuzzi tub--ask me how bummed I am that that thing is going to waste). Fair enough. So, we share our bathroom with our other roommate who is not, shall we say, the cleanest person. Suffice it to say that if I didn't clean our bathroom, it would get pretty nasty very quickly. Tonight I was taking a shower after coming home from the gym, and I got a whiff of something mildewy. In the shower? I stepped towards the faucet--nothing. I stepped toward the front of the shower--ew! It's my roommate's washcloth, hanging on that little shower handle. It really is disgusting.

As the only girl in a house full of boys, I tend to hesitate before nagging any of them because I'm well aware my tolerance for dirtiness is much lower than theirs. It's not that I'm uber-clean, but I hate, hate, hate not having control over how clean others are. I could nag my roommie about his gross washcloth, but if he didn't take care of it right away, it'll drive me crazy. I have a feeling I'll just end up throwing it into my next load of laundry to save my sanity and maintain the peace in the house.

I have to confess, I miss having my own place. I miss being able to let my dishes sit in the sink without feeling guilty, I miss being able to leave my wash in the dryer until I feel like getting around to folding it, and I miss being able to pee with the bathroom door open. Let me make it clear that it's not living with the Fiance that is stressful to me--we're so comfortable around each other that I don't care if he has to tolerate the cheesy ABC Family movie I'm watching, or if I have to ask him to wash the dishes. It's living with people I'm not so comfortable with that reminds me of why I was so relieved to get my own apartment in the first place--and why I miss it so much. But for now, our own place is on the back burner until we get this wedding stuff taken care of. Then we'll tackle the living situation and I can fall back into my old solo-apartment habits. Except peeing with the door open. :)