When I applied to the prestigious University of Rochester, multiple thoughts crossed my mind: Would I get in? What would it be like? Will I get to experience the infamous “roommate that says they like to go to bed early and insists that stumbling back into your dorm drunk is ‘just a one time thing I swear,’” every night? With all these thoughts tumbling around my vine-filled noggin, there was little room for much else. 

When my letter came, I could scarcely get my grubby little hands on it fast enough. Tearing the envelope open with enough zest to clothe several lemons, my eyes scanned the gratuitous introduction. “Hello, deeply valued moneybag student, we hope this letter finds you well, and would like to offer our official verdict on the first step into adulthood…” blah blah blah, sugarcoat rejection and butter-up acceptance, a tale as old as time.  

But there it was! At the bottom of the letter was scrawled a mention of congratulations! I was in! I was going to attend a top of the nation university! Learning to write a three-sentence thesis had been worth it! I could only imagine what it would be like to study at such an academically rigorous school. 

 Six months later and three weeks into my first semester at UR, I was perplexed, puzzled, or I might even go so far as to say bamboozled. How could I, a student at such an academically rigorous university, be tricked into attending a university that was so academically rigorous??

I was, simply put, rather outraged. How Dare They Expect Me To Think!

When I showed up to my first day of class, with nothing more than a “Cars 3” backpack and a mechanical pencil (my mommy took me shopping for it), the teacher (professor, doctor, whateeeevs) had the audacity to call me ‘unprepared,’ and ‘immature.’ I told him that I was, in fact, going to tell on him to my mom. He was not amused. But really, how irresponsible of the professor, to not know that this was syllabus week!? We’re not supposed to learn things, we’re supposed to tell each other our names, and share what our favorite dinosaur is (it’s a Brontosaurus btw). 

By the end of my first day, I had accumulated not only two essays, but ZERO worksheets! Not a singular color-by-number, not a multiplication timed test, not even an advanced crossword! I was aghast with horror. Frankly, I thought it a bit rude for such a prestigious university to pull one over on me like that. I mean, who gave UR the right to give me homework that couldn’t be starred in like a Christmas tree? 

All this to say that, freshies, if you’re considering entering UR with hopes of ease, let me be the first to bash those fragile hopes to pathetic smithereens, lovingly. Because I mean really, they should’ve been more honest and upfront. But hey, academic honesty? Haven’t heard the name. I only know Smokey the Bear and Lucky Charms.

Tagged: academics comedy


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