I was one of those kids who started thinking about college admissions while still in elementary school, despite what common sense might imply. In high school, I took each Advanced Placement course offered, and then spent hours at club meetings and sports practices. By age 17, I was convinced I was Yale-bound but sent off an extra 10 applications just for good measure.
Four months later, the rejection letters starting rolling in, making for the greatest disappointment of my young life. Convinced that a great injustice had occurred, I cursed the admissions officers and my horrible luck, and proceeded to mope until the day my mom read me the letter saying that I was accepted off a waitlist. That afternoon, I sat in an empty classroom and cried – and I now suspect that my reaction to leaving college will not be very different.
In the four years since that fateful day, I have gained an invaluable gift – I was lucky enough to be a student at Georgetown University. What matters is not that I was rejected from those other top-tier schools, but that I found a place that I love more than anywhere else in the entire world.
Recently, I was told that I have a tendency to throw my arms out while telling a story, sometimes to the point of wild gesticulation. Reportedly, I also have quite a loud voice. But the fact remains that these unfortunate habits are the result of how passionately I feel about things. In describing my Georgetown experience, for instance, it is safe to assume my arms would be spread eagle and my voice would be at a volume rivaling the planes that fly over the Healy clock tower.
My friends at Georgetown say that I spend inordinate amounts of time at The Tombs, the famed establishment that serves Hoyas Southwest Chicken Salads by day and pitchers of Busch Light by night. Descending into the dim room and catching a glimpse of the faded sports prints and high-backed wooden booths, I feel as if I am walking into my own living room. It is easy to spend large amounts of time there, given the cast of usual suspects that frequent the bar each night in keeping with the 99 Days custom of the senior class. The Tombs thrives on tradition, and that is what keeps alumni coming back to recapture the magic of their undergraduate years.
While The Tombs certainly dominated much of my final year, my time commitment to the newspaper bordered on the absurd. THE HOYA office, with its walls steeped with quotes and story ideas, provides ample testament to the commitment engendered by the newspaper. Old champagne bottles line the shelves, evidence of successful editors past. Walls are signed with wisdom and advice, old Diet Coke cans tell of production nights continuing long after the crew team began morning practice and bound old issues hold the accomplishment of decades of dedicated students.
The newspaper office drew me in as an innocent freshman, only to have me resurface several years later with a deep respect for journalism, caffeine and those individuals who are committed to achieving admirable goals. I gladly dedicated myself to the pursuit of journalistic excellence, by means of an organization that complicates grade point averages and regularly deprives students of sleep. Being a HOYA editor defined my college experience. It made real the ideas and people professors lectured about in the classroom.
The most seminal aspect of my experience within Healy Gates, however, went beyond the great satisfaction imparted by being a member of THE HOYA. I am one of the lucky few who can say she is best friends with five of the same girls she met her freshman year. Finding friends who are funny and interesting is lucky enough; having those friends stick around through four years of good and bad is rare indeed. They are the embodiment of Georgetown students: true leaders who also know how to party with the best of them.
My house often feels like the university’s command center – within the walls of 3706 R Street, one can find a Tombs top-gun waitress and Senior Class Bartender, the chairperson of the Senior Class Auction and Senior Class Gift Fund, the former director of Uncommon Grounds, an employee at Georgetown University Hospital and a dedicated tutor for D.C. Schools. Students here are unique – they are both academically and socially inclined, and that is why I am confident so many of my peers will go on to do great things. The relationships I have forged in college, particularly with those five girls, will endure miles and minutes.
When I hear people say they are excited to graduate from Georgetown, I am flabbergasted. Why would people want to leave behind the experiences of studying abroad, Homecomings, parties, renowned speakers and a re-emergent basketball program? That’s not to mention those amazing spring break trips to Jamaica and Mexico, the summers spent interning as a political consultant and the Sunday morning brunches. I certainly don’t, but practicality, as well as my lease, mandates that my undergraduate years culminate on May 22.
Just like my experience the month before I graduated from high school, I am unsure exactly where the next few years will take me. But if that uncertainty yields something half as remarkable as my college experience, I will embrace it.
Roxanne Tingir is a senior in the College. She is a former senior news editor, editorial page editor, contributing editor and co-chair of THE HOYA’s 85th anniversary gala.
