You know that cliché be careful what you wish for because you just might get it? Yeah, well there’s a reason why that is such a popular cliché.
It’s because it’s freaking true.
Last year, I was a sophomore at Seton Hill University, a small Catholic university in Greensburg, Pennsylvania (about 40 minutes east of Pittsburgh, and where I grew up). I lived in a suite with four of my best friends. We ate every meal together and had certain nights dedicated to watching our favorite TV shows together. I was the secretary of the women’s equestrian team and got to ride a horse twice a week in lessons (a luxury for someone like me who has struggled to find a place to take regular riding lessons since I was eight). I was close enough to home that it was completely feasible to go home or just hang out with my little brother for an afternoon. I had the perfect work-study job in a little office on campus working with two of the kindest women in the world who absolutely adored me.
I was surrounded by my best friends, always busy between homework and workouts and lessons for the equestrian team, and spent 90% of my time with a smile on my face. The only tears I shed in my two years at Seton Hill were the result of too much laughter.
There was just one problem. I didn’t feel like I was learning anything. My classes were beyond basic. I learned some of the same material in high school that we covered in these classes. In one class, the teacher cancelled class more often than not, and when she did hold class, it let out at least a half hour early. Several of my classmates couldn’t understand a word of Spanish in an intermediate Spanish class. In short, I did not feel that I was getting an education that was preparing me for a successful future. And I have big goals, so I need a top-notch education.
It just so happens that my dad works at Carnegie Mellon University – so one of my high teachers whom I am very close with suggested I transfer. I would be guaranteed a quality education there. “Doors will open for you just because of the Carnegie Mellon name on your resume.” I can’t even put a name on that quote because so many people told me that when I told them I wanted to transfer.
Suddenly everything in my life became about getting into CMU. I took Calculus so I wouldn’t have to take it at CMU where it would certainly be much more difficult. I forced myself to get perfect grades – in my mind, CMU wouldn’t let in a transfer with anything less than a 4.0. I only took classes I thought would transfer. I spent a long night writing and rewriting and rewriting my application essay. I spent another long night revising and editing and rewriting the essay again with the same high school teacher who suggested the transfer in the first place. I triple checked each bit of my application. I met each deadline with time to spare. I checked the website relentlessly for word on my application status.
I clearly got what I wanted. I got into CMU. I became a Tartan. Celebration Tweets still exist that will not let me deny that I was overjoyed to get into the prestigious Tartan City.
About two weeks into my first semester, I started to regret my decision to transfer. I wasn’t making friends here. Everyone my age already had friends or didn’t want to befriend the weird new girl. The freshmen were still too hyped up about their new friends they met during orientation to give me any attention. I did have my classwork, but when that was over I was so bored. Time that used to be spent doing the most therapeutic activity for me – riding horses – was now just free time. Time that used to be spent hanging out in the common room of my suite talking and laughing about absolutely nothing with my roommates was now spent in silence in my room with only my poster of Adam Levine, my only constant in this process, for company. Don’t get me wrong – he’s not bad company (and he’s an excellent listener), but it’s nice to have a friend who actually, you know, responds.
After our luxurious mid-semester “break” (what a joke – one day is not a break), which I spent at Seton Hill reunited with all of my best friends reliving sweet memories of a fun college life, I couldn’t handle coming back to being bored and lonely all the time at CMU. I spent a solid week crying in my dorm room begging my mom to let me transfer back to Seton Hill. I didn’t like the precedent I was setting for my life that I would trade the things that made me happy for the things that would earn me more money.
After a long week, Mom finally talked me down from the ledge. The real reason I am in college is not to have fun all the time – it is to get an education so that I can get a good job in the future. And there is absolutely no denying that Carnegie Mellon can do that and does do that all the time.
Now, I’m a member of Kappa Kappa Gamma and I have made lots of good friends through that. I also am writing for The Tartan (and Her Campus, obviously), I have regular dinner dates with my friend from home who goes to Pitt and manages to quell my homesickness a little bit, and I make it a point to call if not go home and visit my old Seton Hill buddies as often as possible.
Since I started with a cliché I guess I’ll end with one too. It is true that the grass always looks greener on the other side and that you don’t know what you have until it’s gone, but it is also true that every cloud has a silver lining and I just had to find mine at CMU. Then one day I can wipe away my tears of loneliness with all of my wads of money.
Oh, and if you ever meet a transfer student, please be friendly. It isn’t easy to leave everything familiar and try to find a sense of belonging in a completely new setting.