Category: Freshmen Year

I Wrote a Thing…

I am writing this in response to something a former teacher of mine had write for his class. I am going to try and so this as best I can, so here it goes.

Dear teachers,

You are so important. I know as I student we can be difficult, we can be psychopathic monsters and we can be angels. We have our days, and although we never realize it, you have your days as well. As a student, I know we complain. I can’t tell you the number of times I looked at a math problem and thought “why do I have to learn this? When am I ever going to have to know how to find the hypotenuse distance between a lighthouse and the ground?” I know you told me the art project was supposed to be fauvism and I fought you tooth and nail to make a normal landscape, I know when you gave us a group project you knew how much we hate them and tried to make it fun and easy. I know we hurt you, and I’m sorry.

Let me say this again, you are SO important. It is because of all the teachers I’ve had over the years that I am where I am today. I tried to be a good student, and I know I wasn’t always. I know on some days I added to your stress, I acted like a child when I should have acted like an adult. Looking back now I see how many sacrifices you make for each and every one of us, sacrifices we as students took for granted. You gave up sleep and sanity for us and we took it for granted. I know now that everything you did, even as unfair as it seemed at the time, you did for us. Your strict rules in class, your tough quizzes and test, all the stupid group projects and in class participation…wasn’t stupid or pointless like I thought.

I’m going to admit something I’ve never told anyone. Walking off the stage after graduation and seeing all the teachers I had the past four years standing there, waiting for me…I wanted to cry, and I rarely cry. I loved all of you so much, each of you helped me and changed me so much, and I never thanked you. I never really took the chance to tell you how much each and every one of you meant to me. I never bothered to think about how any of you felt at the end of the day, I never even considered how my indifference or boredom in your class might hurt you. I promise I never meant to, I promise that it wasn’t you. I loved each and every single one of you. My indifference, my boredom, my sadness and pain and anger were never geared toward you and if it ever felt that way I’m sorry.

You are important. Don’t let any student make you feel differently. You may never realize how you changed our lives, or even saved our lives, but you did. We learn right from wrong from our parents, we learn social interactions from our friends, but everything else, we get from you. A teacher is the one who taught me how to tie my shoes, a teacher was the one who comforted me when the kids I thought were my friends became my tormentors, a teacher was the one that helped me make new friends when I was the new kid in school, a teacher was the one who helped me through my first heartbreak, and a teacher was the one who noticed I was thinking of hurting myself. Everything I am, everything I know how to do is because of some teacher I had sometime during my life. You have more of an impact than you will ever know, please don’t ever forget that.

Sincerely,

A very grateful student

P.S. If there are any errors in here I am sorry, its 2 am so I’m tired. One thing I did not learn from a teacher is normally sleeping patterns.

Common Etiquette

Dear men of the world,

I don’t mean to sound bitchy, but I have to say this. When you’re dating a girl or even just hanging out with a female friend and it’s late at night what does common courtesy and common sense tell you to do? That’s right, walk her home.

I know in today’s world it’s not solely a man’s job to protect a woman anymore. Women can protect themselves now more than ever. I for one am perfectly capable of handling a knife and have taken more than one self-defense class. I know I can get myself from point A to point B safely if I stay alert and stay on edge the whole way there. I shouldn’t have to.

I don’t want a guy to walk me home because I’m scared someone is going to attack me along the way, I’m a fivs major, I know the odds of that happening. No, I want someone, guy or girl, to walk with me so that I don’t have to be on edge my entire way home. Like tonight for example, walking back to my dorm from the library I was carrying a pocket knife in my pocket just in case. Now, the walk is only maybe 12 minutes long, but at night that’s a long way to go by yourself. For about 9 of those minutes a somewhat questionable young man was following me, and as we drew closer to my dorm he drew closer to me. I casually pulled the knife out of my pocket and held it close to my side and he casually glanced down and jogged to the other side of the street. For all I know this young man was actually a very moral person who just happened to be walking at a faster pace than me and tried to pass me a little too close a little too late at night OR he was in fact a questionable young man who was planning on doing something to an unwitting young female until said female pulled a knife.

Normally during the day my walks to and from the library are pretty nice, tonight however was not the case. I was hanging out with 3 other people tonight, two guy and one girl. one of those guys happened to be the guy I am seeing who decided instead of study or walking me home he was going to goof off in the library until midnight. So, men of the world, the next time you’re hanging out with any woman late at night please, please walk her home so nothing happens to her. Not because it will, but because it could, and walking with her and offering her that bit of comfort and safety of not being alone along the way will be a big deal to her.

Sincerely,

A rather frightened and extremely angry erinacius

It’s Not You, It’s Them

Dear future college freshmen,

It’s not you, it’s them. You can be the best student in the world and still fail a class. You can dedicate hours to study for a test and get all the practice problems correct and still bomb a test. You can make A’s on every homework assignment and quiz the professor gives and still tank their class. It’s not you.

Professors can be assholes sometimes. They’ll give you plenty of practice problems, take you through them step-by-step, and then come test  time they’ll throw problems at you that they never covered and that were never in the textbook. Is this fair? No, absolutely not. Professors don’t have to be fair, they don’t even have to have a majority of their students passing their classes.

Sometimes you can give your all to a class and still fail it. It’s going to be okay. Maybe you’ll have to take it again with a different professor, maybe you’ll have to take it at the local community college, but I promise, it will be okay. You aren’t a bad student, you’re smarter than you think. Don’t let this one class, this one grade define who you are or how smart you are. Sometimes no matter how hard you work for a professor it just won’t be enough for them, so you know what? Forget them, there are plenty of other opportunities, plenty of other professors out there that actually want to help you.

Sincerely,

A freshmen who just bombed another Chem 101 test

The Last Corps Trip

d86addea-945e-4b79-8202-dbb294c24a7fIt was Judgment Day in Aggieland
And tenseness filled the air;
All knew there was a trip at hand,
But not a soul knew where.

Assembled on the drill field
Was the world-renowned Twelfth Man,
The entire fighting Aggie team
And the famous Aggie Band.

And out in front with Royal Guard
The reviewing party stood;
St. Peter and his angel staff
Were choosing bad from good.

First he surveyed the Aggie team
And in terms of an angel swore,
“By Jove, I do believe I’ve seen
This gallant group before.

I’ve seen them play since way back when,
And they’ve always had the grit;
I’ve seen ‘em lose and I’ve seen ‘em win,
But I’ve never seen ‘em quit.

No need for us to tarry here
Deciding upon their fates;
Tis plain as the halo on my head
That they’ve opened Heaven’s gates.”

And when the Twelfth Man heard this,
They let out a mighty yell
That echoed clear to Heaven
and shook the gates of Hell.

“And what group is this upon the side,”
St. Peter asked his aide,
“That swelled as if to burst with pride
When we our judgment made?”

“Why, sir, that’s the Cadet Corps
That’s known both far and wide
For backing up their fighting team
Whether they won, lost or tied.”

“Well, then,” said St. Peter,
“It’s very plain to me
That within the realms of Heaven
They should spend eternity.

And have the Texas Aggie Band
At once commence to play
For their fates too we must decide
Upon this crucial day.”

And the drum major so hearing
Slowly raised his hand
And said, “Boys, let’s play The Spirit
For the last time in Aggieland.”

And the band poured forth the anthem
In notes both bright and clear
And ten thousand Aggie voices
Sang the song they hold so dear.

And when the band had finished,
St. Peter wiped his eyes
And said, “It’s not so hard to see
They’re meant for Paradise.”

And the colonel of the Cadet Corps said
As he stiffly took his stand,
“It’s just another Corps Trip, boys,
We’ll march in behind the band.”

 – by P.H. DuVal, Jr.’51

Butterflies

You know that feeling? When you look at someone and your insides start to flutter and you get so nervous you almost feel nauseated? In middle-school we called that feeling butterflies. But what is it called when you grow up?

What is that feeling you get when you see someone so perfect, so absolutely wonderful that just by looking at them your heart skips a beat. You look into their eyes and you can’t help but just wonder, how can there be someone so perfect in the world; and then you can’t help but just…smile. You don’t know why you do it either, you aren’t usually this happy. Actually, you’ve never felt this happy.  Being with them is like tearing the paper off a Christmas present and realizing it’s the one thing you’ve wished for your whole life.

Suddenly everyone around you is just a normal person and then you look at them and they are so much more. Just sitting with them makes the  stars shine a little brighter, just holding their hand takes your breath away. You can sit there in complete silence and the world just seems…perfect. But when you look at them and try to put what you feel into words…you draw a blank.

How can you put this feeling into words? You wouldn’t call it love, it’s too early for that, but you wouldn’t call it like either. Like is just too simple…too boring to describe how light your heart feels when that person is around or how you just wish you could somehow capture their perfection in any way possible but you know you could never get it right. You sit there and think on how you could tell them, how you should tell them…but with all the words in the English language, with all the words in the world you can’t find a single one that seems right.

What do you call it when you’ve known someone for less than a week but it feels like a lifetime? What do you say when just texting them can be the highlight of your day, or even just seeing them smile can turn your worst day into something magical? How could you possibly ever put something like that into words? Where would you even begin? What would you even call that feeling?

Would you call that butterflies?

 

 

Who’s Got the Time?

Going into college I knew I would have to spend more time studying. I knew there would be a ton of homework. I knew I would be able to manage my time so I would have time for friends, clubs, hobbies or whatever else I wanted to do.
What I didn’t realize was that while I might have made time for them it would appear most have not made time for me.

Making new friends in college is important, but it’s also important
to keep those connection you had before. I mean, when that new guy you’re seeing dumps you who better to turn to than that girl you’ve been friends with since 5th grade? Who knows how to make you feel better better than she does? That girl from Bio 111 you meet 3 weeks ago? I don’t think so. But if you stopped talking to your friend from 5th grade how do you think she’s gofriendship-necklaces-3ing to feel when the only time you turn to her is when you’re falling to pieces?

I can’t believe people when they give the excuse “I just don’t have the time for you.” We all get busy, believe me, I know it more now than ever before. But everyone, no matter how busy can always carve out a couple minutes a day or even an hour or two a week to spend time with their friends and family.

YOU started a relationship with a person, you can’t do that and then drop off the face of the planet. That is not how being human means. Unless you’re saying you aren’t human, then by all means drop off the face of the planet. You’d probably be doing me a favor. After all, if you don’t have the time for me then who has the time for you?

Silver Taps

 

Tonight marked a first for me as a freshmen here at A&M. I have been to so many different events here on campus before ever actually being a student but I have never attended Silver Taps. Until tonight.

How do you describe something so beautifully melancholy? It starts with the lose of a student and the gathering of not only their family, but their Aggie family as well.

silvertapsOn the first Tuesday of the month after their passing the flag is lowered to half mast. That evening, starting at around 10 pm the lights begin to go off around campus and students, some of whom knew the fallen Aggie and some who never met them, walk silently toward the academic plaza. As you near the plaza, all you hear i
s the bell tower playing Amazing Grace. Everyone stands, silently waiting for the Ross Volunteers to march in. As they near you can hear the clicks of their shoes on the concrete, echoing through the silence. In the darkness they raise their guns. The muzzles flashes in the dark and the first shot breaks the silence, BOOM! You’re heart nearly jumps out of your chest and as soon as you recover the second goes off…BOOM…silence…BOOM! The third shot sounds and all goes quiet. From the silence Silver Taps begins to play. The beautiful yet sad notes ring out to the North, then the West and finally the South; but the music will never play to the East, for the sun will never again rise upon our fellow classmate. As the bugle dies all you hear is the clicking of the Ross Volunteers’ shoes on pavement as the march off. Then, all the students begin to walk off into the darkness, none of them uttering a single word.

I’m certain my description could never do Silver Taps justice, but here in Aggieland we have a saying. From the outside looking in you can’t understand it, from the inside looking out you can’t explain it.