I graduate Susquehanna University in May. I’ve been thinking and dreaming of the moment when I finally got that piece of paper since I moved in my first year. That kinda sucks, wanting the finale when you haven’t even started the pilot of the show. But I was ready. Or so I thought.
Turns out, these four years I’ve been waiting with bated breath for the moment of paper holding. But now, I’m a little terrified. In basically three months, this four-year journey of a college education comes to an end. Furthermore, I have and I am assuming most people who have progressed to the collegiate level of education have been doing this for 18 or 19 years.
We’ve spent most of, if not all of our lives, in a classroom. A teacher in the front by the blackboard (or whiteboard). Now, in a few short months, I’m applying to jobs, sending out resumes, and praying to whatever deity is listening to me, that there’s a spot for me in the job market. I shudder thinking about it. To be completely honest, there’s a fear of leaving behind a classroom. We’ve spent so long being the ones to be educated. Now we have to take all that education and actually apply it in what we call the real world.
I think what I fear most is moving into another community of people where I don’t know if there’s a spot for me. Let me explain it like this: we had our little community in elementary school. A class of people who knew you. You had your group of friends, your close friends. You played on the playground, trying to see who soared the highest on the swings. Eighth grade came around, and all of you went to different high schools. You said goodbye and promised to stay in touch.
Then, you became a freshman in high school, and everyone is daunting. You went from knowing everybody to knowing nobody. You sit at the lunch table, praying that somebody will see you and decide they wanna sit with you. Over time, you again have your little group of friends. Your group helps you through the agony that is high school. High school becomes a place of firsts for you, and your group is there to push you along. They make sure you know you’re not alone in this world. Again, senior year of high school rolls around, and you’re all applying and committing to different colleges in various parts of the country. You all promise that no matter what you’ll stay in touch. And yeah, you’ve stayed in touch with maybe two people from eighth grade, but this time, you put in the effort to stay in touch with all your high school friends. No matter what.
The first year of college is upon you. You’ve spent the entire summer prepping for this. You’ve hung out with your friends from high school. Each expresses worry over a new school where you won’t know a soul. You’ve spent the entirety of August fretting over school supplies and bedding. Bed, Bath, and Beyond was a lifesaver. Now, you’re sitting in your first-year dorm. Your parents just said goodbye, and the feeling of loneliness is heavy in the pit of your stomach. You sit, and if you’re like me, you shed a few tears. But eventually, you start classes and meet people that you can also call a friend. Again you’ve met your group. The four years of college zoomed by. Parties, classes, assignments, last-minute prepping for exams, midterms, and finals. Finally, you are at the precipice of graduation. You’ve promised yourself you wouldn’t cry. You held onto those friends, and you stayed in touch–even if you had to use a carrier pigeon.
You’re getting your diploma, and you’re saying goodbye to education. You’re going into whatever field of work you’ve worked to get into. The problem is you don’t know anyone. And you’re like that awkward fourteen-year-old again, praying that someone will sit down at your lunch table.
I know this is a silly fear to think about, especially when you haven’t even graduated yet. Why worry about something that hasn’t happened yet? I think for me personally, it’s the fear of not knowing and assuming that this is going to be the case.
Graduating college, especially nowadays, means we’re going into a job market that’s tight, and there’s not a lot of room for the freshly graduated. We’re told if we apply in January or February that we’ve applied too soon and they’re not looking at your resumes yet. If you apply too late, all the positions have been taken, so apply someplace else. It makes me all bunched up on the inside. All nervous and anxious that there was no place for me. I know I can make my own spot, but that’s not the point. We’re told that there are jobs for us, and to get those jobs, we have to have a 4.0 GPA, dozens of extracurricular activities, and a job we’ve been holding down all four years. All the right clubs, right classes, right this, right that.
Between being nervous about whether there’s even a place for me and the anxiety of being friendless at this job I don’t even have, graduating college is the most nerve-wracking thing I’ve ever felt. At least at this moment. While yes, all of the nerves make me wanna crawl into a hole and never come out of it, I remind myself that I’ve carried myself this far. My legs have walked me from my first day of pre-school to my last first day of senior year. We the class of 2023 have earned our cap and gown, have earned that piece of paper, and earned the right to say. We can hold our own at the empty lunch table. Sometimes, we have to remember our younger selves. They walked up to other little people and started a friendship over something so simple as a favorite color. We have to remember that the jobs we start with aren’t always the ones we continue with. We’re in a constant state of growing up and out of friendships with friends who we loved and who are now part of our happy memories that we can look back on.
You got this, I got this. We’re going to graduate and get our dream jobs. I know it. I have faith in you and in me. We just gotta remember that this is not the end because we’ve done this before. It’s one foot in front of the other.