Like everyone who has walked the well-worn track into higher education, I’ve picked up a few survival tips after a year in university. Of course, I too went forewarned with some second-hand knowledge from friends, but that didn’t stop me joining every society going (even the ones that were feuding with each other), becoming malnourished by Christmas, and spending my free Wednesdays eating beans on toast in bed while watching YouTube.
No matter what I say, you too will try to live for as long as possible on the stuff they give you in the Fresher’s Pack, will become a card-carrying pub-arguer for the Socialist Workers’ Party, and will try to use your discount card wherever you can think you’ll get away with it.
So don’t worry – this isn’t some sort of advice-column. It falls somewhere between the stools of misty-eyed reminiscence and wincing regret. One thing I will stress, though, is that the mistakes you make in college will be the most educational you ever make. A single toga party is enough to make you realise that they only really work in Ancient Rome, where both their weather and physiques were so much better.
One of the things that’ll colour almost everything about your year is where you stay. For example, I stayed in college-run student accommodation, and so the main thing I remember about first year is a persistent sense of…well, utter exhaustion. The fact that we didn’t have a landlord telling us to shut up when it got to four in the morning meant that post-pub games of Monopoly could conceivably go on until the following afternoon. Which they did. With disturbing regularity.
Sharing a small space with five or six other students teaches you about the importance of establishing common ground – though it’s important to find something that pleases everyone. For example, another flatmate and I bonded over a common love for turning the place into a complete shambles – which rather displeased everyone else.
But don’t worry: even if you’re staying in a privately-rented flat, college draws together such a vast pool of people that you’re bound to find the sort of friends you never thought you’d meet in school. I found I made most of my friends on my course anyway. Before your first week of classes is over you’ll be part of a group whose common language is a store of Father Ted quotations, idle speculation about your lecturers’ love-lives, and learned references to thinkers you’ve never actually read.
Of course, there is definitely real work involved in college. This is perhaps the biggest shock you’ll receive during your first term. Take consolation, though. While I’m loathe to cite the old adage of ‘they’re not deadlines: they’re guidelines’, you can make time for all your enthusiasms while still meeting the demands of those crusty deans. Your best bet is probably to talk to older students in your course – though preferably not those who are sharing the same lecture theatre as you because they’ve had to repeat the year. If it’s getting too much, most colleges assign you a tutor who’ll help you through. While Students’ Union officers sometimes get a bad rep, their most vehement detractors are usually the ones who lost against them in the elections. In our college they were especially helpful, and were always able to refer those in need to the right places when the problems were beyond their experience.
It’s the case with almost everything in life that if you throw yourself into it whole-heartedly, you’ll get more than you could have imagined out of it. That’s especially true of college.
While the independence might be a bit frightening, when you get the hang of it, the freedom becomes exhilarating. You may have to do the horrible stuff (such as cleaning) by yourself, but you also get to decide so much that you never did before (such as when to go to bed). Besides, there are so many safety nets in place in case things go wrong. Never again in your life will you have the chance to broaden your horizons, and never more than in first year will it seem as much of a novelty.