Senior Year @ Undergrad
I am officially a college senior. I’m serious. You can log onto my university registration site (shoutout to UAConnect, fresh off that rebrand!) and it will show you that I am officially an undergraduate senior. You can check the roster in my Global Marketing class, scroll down to my name and the box to the left of where I sign and it is there too. “Senior.”
I do not feel like I am ready to be a senior. I am at this point in my life through a combination of AP credits, transfer magic, and summer classes, as well as the benevolence of my parents, who have graciously (and eagerly) funded my education. I get to graduate a year early for crying out loud! None of this inspires a sense of readiness in me, though.
Growing up, my parents tried to get me skipped a few grades ahead. I worked blindly back then because I was a kid. I probably could have pulled it off, but my school never cleared it. I thought it was silly that I wasn’t allowed to skip until “senior” popped up on my college syllabi. Growing up, I always heard how kids who skipped grades did not mature like everyone else. As a result, they’d get lost in the limbos between being kid and being a teen, being a teen and being an adult, and it would take a lot of effort for them to get sorted out. I have a friend with whom I attended grades 6–12 who skipped a few grades, and she matured just fine. Exception to the rule, most likely. I don’t feel like I too would be an exception.
I am so worried about my senior year because I feel like I haven’t matured yet. Due to various circumstances and life events, the typical “college experience” that most have (the real one, with internships and long-lasting college friendships, not the constant partying “as seen on TV” experience) is far from the experience that I have had. Significant ties to my university are just now being built, here in my second year at this particular institution. I know I have grown up a lot since I graduated high school two years ago, but I feel like I haven’t grown up as much as the people I spend my weekdays with.
I’ve been told that I have nothing to worry about. I’ve been told that everyone feels this, regardless of when they enter their final year of undergraduate study. I haven’t found much comfort in that, either.
Interestingly enough, the source of my biggest anxiety is also the source of my biggest reserves of optimism. This is my last year at an undergraduate level. Next year, I’ll either start an MBA program, a job, a business, or some combination of those things. My future is open, at an unparalleled level. I live in the best time to start a business, and the best time to be a person. I come from a considerable amount of privilege, and have a good safety net should things go sour. I’ve had a diverse set of life experiences even at 20, life experiences that have instilled what I believe to be good character traits as well as the knowledge that I will survive whatever is thrown at me. I’ve lived through hell already.
I’m about to start two things that I am certain of. The first, one of the most optimistic periods of my life, a chapter that combines measured uncertainty with the gusto only I can provide the world. The second, the most epic comeback of all time. No more “this is my year” talk from me. Every moment has to become my moment. I need to incorporate every second into my quest for domination, just like the good old days. (So I guess more “this is my year” talk).
This is the start of the hardest part of my life thus far. This seems like the start of one of the most fun chapters in my life too. I do not feel ready to be senior because seniors seem to be done with their learning. I’m not done yet. I’m just about to do everything different come May. So I’m not ready to be a senior… but I am ready to be a beginner again.