It was business as usual for New York University students this week as the Spring semester got off to an icy start. Bundled up in coats, scarves and Ray Bans, they hit the Washington Square Park campus with the same perceived apathy as any other old day. It’s easy to join the pack on days like this – put your head down, keep an eye on the clock and get through the day.
Not me. Wednesday was this senior’s first day of college.
This semester, for the first time, I will be taking only the classes I want to take. No superfluous science experiments, no half-ass attempts to put a group of students in a room and make them understand math, no bullshit. I am a journalism and history major, therefore I should study just that. God knows I’m paying for it. The end of the Fall semester saw the last fragment of my required coursework flutter away with the same icy gust that hung around over the break to usher in the new semester. Quantitative Reasoning. And just like that, it was gone. forever.
I was the last remaining human amongst a sea of drones Wednesday as I navigated the hard, cold campus with spirits high. It has taken me two and a half years to feel this way about this school. I’m finally getting the whole dream school thing. Well it took its sweet time.
Two journalism classes. Two history classes. Relevance. It’s all I ever wanted.