Flying the Coop

Homecoming

Throw back to my second year!

It’s crazy how time flies. I’m graduating college in nine days. So many changes have happened in my life in such a short period of time! Four years sounds like a long time as a first year student, but it goes by in the blink of an eye. I want to say I’m going to miss college. It’s “the best four years of your life”, right? But honestly, there isn’t much I’m going to miss about Elon besides having friends nearby. Part of me wishes I had more time to participate in the community, but that’s only because this was the first year I’ve actually been able to do that in a meaningful way. I think I will miss being challenged intellectually. I really enjoyed the discussions I had in some of my classes. Where else do people come together and devote their time to dealing with complicated issues and new ideas?

But I’m tired of talking (and writing essays) about these ideas; I want to act on them. I feel ready to move on to the next stage of my life. I want greater intellectual challenges and opportunities for community. I want to start a career that allows me to be the person I became through this experience and helps me continue to grow.

The other day I was walking past the small downtown streets of Elon. The bricks led me past the pizza place, coffee shop, and student theater. I smelled the honeysuckle in the air. I looked up into the canopy of ancient oaks. I heard the train blow past the school, just like it does every day at 5pm. And I realized that no matter what happened to me here, good and bad, it’s still my home, and I love it. I won’t miss Elon, because I’m taking Elon with me (No, I haven’t stolen a brick yet!). Everywhere I go, I will remember the friends I met, the professors I was honored to work with, and the memories I made that make my heart swell with warmth.

The same itch that had you to get out of the nest as a high school senior is the same itch you get as a college senior. It’s a restlessness that is filled with nervous excitement and the knowledge that something amazing is about to happen. But one of the first things you learn when you get to college is how awesome your mom’s cooking is, how warm your old bed is, and how far away your friends are. I am relearning all this now that I’m leaving home for the second time. But, this phoenix is flying the coop, because there is much more to experience in life, and I am so ready for it.

Beck

Advertisements

Dear Professor

Dear Professor,

If it’s possible to be a completely different person from one month to the next, I can say with confidence that I am not who I was last semester. The reason I know I am a different person is because of those two small words, “with confidence”.

But first, I want to apologize. I’m sorry for letting you and myself down. I’m sorry for not being able to finish my assignments on time and not performing to the highest standard. I’m sorry I had to work during the semester. I’m sorry I was homeless. I’m sorry I wasn’t reliable and doubted myself. I’m sorry things turned out the way they did.

I’m also not sorry. I’m not sorry for the things I couldn’t control. I couldn’t help that I needed to work to afford to stay in school. I couldn’t help that I lost my job and didn’t have a place to stay. I couldn’t help that I was spending two hours every day commuting instead of doing work. I couldn’t help that I found a place to live too late in the semester to give me time to catch up. I also couldn’t help that my course of study required me to take five classes, two of which were capstone courses, complete a practicum, and study for a huge standardized test.

I’m tired of being sorry. I’m tired of regretting my actions and feeling bad about my failures. Because I learned from them. Who I am is not what I have done. I am not a failure. I am an intelligent, capable, responsible student. I have fears, but I don’t let them stop me from trying my hardest to achieve my goals. I have confidence in my ability to be not only a good student, but a successful professional. Failure is giving up when things get hard. I do not give up, no matter what. That is who I am.

You once told me that teachers make poor students, but I think teachers must be good students in order to learn from past mistakes and grow as individuals and professionals. I may or may not teach in a high school classroom, but whatever I do, I will be a teacher, because that is who I am. I don’t need a license to invest in those around me and help them grow. As you said, I have a lot to offer the world. I may do one thing or many things in life, but what I won’t do is limit myself because one person told me I couldn’t do it.

Sincerely,
Beck

How to be Homeless in College

helpmeimpoor

I was stranded at my friends apartment last week while NC was in the middle of a snow storm. This reminded me of last semester when I was staying there almost every week because I had no other place to go. I learned a lot about how to go without last semester. Becoming homeless is a process that makes you realize exactly what you do and do not need to live. It’s a painful process.

I started the semester in a small apartment attached to a house nearby campus. The rent wasn’t bad and I had just gotten a job as a barista at the local B&N cafe. After about a month, I moved out because my landlady didn’t want me to keep my cat in her house, and I wanted to live with my cat (don’t judge me).

At the beginning of October, I moved into a house with a student couple, their evil cat, smelly dog, and loud chicken. (Yes, I did say chicken.) I settled in and then…I lost my job. Apparently, my availability was not working for them, even though I told them I could work anytime I wasn’t in class. With no job to pay rent and a new landlord asking for a deposit, I found myself, at the end of the month, moving for the third time that semester…home.

My Mom lives in Raleigh, about an hour from campus, and I had a full schedule with seven classes. I was so scared and I didn’t know what I was doing, but I had no choice but to keep going. For weeks, I woke up at 5:30am so I could drive the hour commute and be on time for my 8am class (and I’m not a morning person in the least). To save gas, I asked my friends if I could alternate sleeping on their couch, but I didn’t want to be a burden, so most of the time I slept in the library or took naps in my car.

I had a system. I would go home every Tuesday and Thursday night to get more clothes and food. I would shower in the gym locker room and do laundry on the weekends when I could stay home. I would work in the library and then drive home to sleep in my room with no bed. And I would student teach and try to finish my projects on time. Part of me knew this meant I wouldn’t be passing all my classes, but I’m nothing if not stubborn, and I thought I was strong enough to do it all.

Okay, so technically I wasn’t homeless, but I was constantly moving between my car, my friends’ apartments and public spaces like the library and gym. I felt homeless, and that anxiety really affected me and my ability to work. I learned how to get through the day by getting “free” coffee from faculty lounges and attending school events with free food. I ate a lot of pizza that semester.

Having no where to go makes one anxious and alone, and I very quickly fell apart. Every single one of my professors emailed me or “had the talk” with me about my low performance (some more than once). What could I say? “Sorry I didn’t finish the paper, Professor, I was busy trying to find somewhere to sleep last night.” I felt tired all the time and it wasn’t from the mountains of work I stayed up doing. I knew I needed to do something about my living situation and fast.

That’s when I remembered that I had been adopted recently. My church has a program that allows families in the church to “adopt” college students so they can get a home-cooked meal, and have a place to stay if they can’t go home for breaks. I emailed my “family” and asked if they knew of anyone that had an extra room to be rented out until May. I received a quick response offering a room in their own house for the year. It felt weird accepting help from people who were essentially strangers, but I wasn’t in a position to say no, and a 30 minute commute is better than an hour commute, so I said yes. I’ve been living here ever since. I won’t say it wasn’t awkward, really awkward, at first, but God has put me in a good home and I’m so grateful that He has provided a place for me to live during my senior year. I hope I can do the same for someone else one day.

What my adopted family did by taking me in reminds me of this passage in Matthew 25.35-40 (NIV)

‘For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’
“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

I was a stranger and they invited me in, and that’s pretty awesome.

Beck