Opinion | Best of: four years of college blunders

Flat tires are always an inconvenience, but especially for a commuter student on the way to a class where digital correspondence is strictly in Japanese. Unsplash

Listen — you’re going to mess up. You’re going to make some mistakes. Sometimes you might even trip down the stairs in front of 30 of your fellow college students, launching your phone across the pavement and spilling Starbucks all over your crisp, white shirt.

We’ll get to that last part later. Bottom line: stuff happens.

Megan Miller, Opinions Editor

If there’s anything I’ve learned in my four years of college here, it’s that life goes on. Your project will get done. Your paper will end up completed. Your degree will be in your hands at the end of it all.

Inevitably, you’ll blunder, too.

Part of what makes college fun is that you’re in a bubble. Our campus is our own little microcosm of the world, and we rule it. But that also means, when we mess up, we feel like we can’t disappear — that everyone’s gonna know or that we’ll never live it down.

Trust me, no one will remember your embarrassing story.

Until you publish it in the school newspaper, of course.

If Only This Swamp Could Be Drained

Ah, yes. I remember the days when I was a political science major. 

The swan song of my short-lived political science career was sung on the third floor of the Hashinger Science Center. I’m almost certain the building hasn’t had proper air conditioning since 2005 — if it ever had it in the first place.

The class was comparative politics. I was giving a presentation with two of my peers, and I was sweating. Profusely. I could feel it trickling down my ribcage, my back and my arms. 

I’m not sure how much actually breached the fabric of my clothes, but judging from some of the concerned stares I received, I’m certain you could at least see a glistening sheen on my face.

It was so embarrassing, I simply had to switch my major. I learned any field of study that could induce this much sweat-laced anxiety just wouldn’t work for me.

Nani?

I’m convinced that it’s a universally known truth that flat tires only occur at the worst possible times.

Not that any flat tire is ever particularly convenient, but it always seems to happen on a morning where you’ve got somewhere you definitely need to be, and you’re already running late.

My worst possible time happened to be on the way to Japanese class. Attendance was what I would call extremely mandatory; the professor made clear that any lateness could lead to lost points, meaning an absence could dock my grade big time.

I’m a commuter student, so there is a specific time I need to leave — down to the minute — to ensure that I’ll make it to class on time. This factors in both the commute and the time needed to battle it out for a parking space.

I had my morning commute dialed in.

Until that morning, when a single little nail rendered my entire vehicle inoperable.

I know what you’re thinking: Megan, just send an email. I’m sure the professor would understand.

And I’m sure they would have, too. Except all email correspondence between myself and the professor had to be in Japanese; it was a requirement of the course.

So there I was — instead of calling AAA on the side of the freeway, I was googling how to say “flat tire” in Japanese.

I’d like to tell you I at least got the word right in my email. But I didn’t.

The Great Fall of 2019

You guessed it — the time I tripped down the stairs in front of 30 of my peers. Cue the freeze frame while I give you the backstory.

I was exiting class and headed straight to a first date. It was the fall — yes, I know, you can laugh — of 2019, my sophomore year. I finally felt like I was getting the hang of college. Right up until gravity decided to humble me.

Don’t get me wrong, I shouldn’t have been texting with one hand and holding my coffee aloft in the other while trying to rush down the stairs. Lesson learned.

Needless to say, the date didn’t work out.

It may have had something to do with the fact that I showed up to the coffee shop with the morning’s Starbucks slathered across my crisp white shirt.

So there you have it. My top three most embarrassing college stories. While we’re at it, let’s add “publishing my college blunders” to the number four spot.

But really, don’t be afraid to make mistakes. Learn from them. Blunder. Get flat tires. Sweat. Fall. 

And then get right back up and move on.

Life’s just not that serious.