The First Week

A year and a half ago, I walked scared little freshman Wymana into Oregon State University. She was worried that classes would be too hard, or that she wouldn't make friends, or that she would survive solely on frozen burritos. She had grand ambitions to immerse herself in her studies, join a few clubs, play an intramural sport, and become a professional cook. But mostly, she wanted to leave without any regrets because she didn't join something.

The first week of freshman year was an awkward state of limbo. Classes hadn't really started but we all still worried about them. I had met some people, but I didn't really know them. I remember ending up in the social lounge one night the weekend before classes started: a handful of us from the fifth floor of West Hall all sitting on the couches watching Miss Congeniality 2 and wondering what the heck we were doing. Being social? We weren't, really. Watching a life-changing example of top notch art? Definitely not. We were there because we didn't know what else to do with ourselves. Too homesick to branch out, too distant to organize anything more exciting, and too aware of a new beginning to lock ourselves in our rooms. Social events were obligatory. Doesn't matter if you didn't have fun--at least you showed up and introduced yourself and maybe sometime later someone recognized you, and then again, and then maybe that person became a good friend. I don't remember feeling sadness my first week of school, but I do remember apathy. The first week felt like distance in every sense. 

Sure enough, that all changed once classes began and people acclimated to the novelties of college living. I never became a professional cook. I lived off burritos, a jar of peanut butter, and an enormous horde of cliff bars. But OSU offers students a lot of opportunities. I tried out what looked interesting to me and met a lot of really cool people, as well as some pretty cool llamas. 

Why am I telling you all of this? Because here at UCC, it feels the same. It's almost exactly like being a freshman all over again. I didn't know how to read the timetables, or figure out my schedule, or what to expect from lectures, or what to do about textbooks, or how to contact people. I showed up to classes that no one else showed up to, then realized that the class was cancelled or that I had misread the timetable and needed to be in the lecture hall next door. The first week was a whole lot of being a newbie; the international office was immensely helpful.

The first week was also great craic. I met lovely people, explored Cork, and discovered a pub that hosts swing dancing after 10 pm on Friday nights (for those interested, it is The Porterhouse). I discovered that my dad's old Nokia phone works--and with an Irish SIM card to boot! One of the strangest feelings was being without phone and computer access for several days while getting organized. It made me realize just how reliant I am on both.

Finally, everything really is different here--and it's not only the brands at the grocery store. For one, because I am trying to complete my bacc core requirements while abroad, my schedule is entirely liberal arts. That is almost a culture shock in and of itself: A) the majority of students in my classes are girls, and B) I realize that I'm not quite sure how to "do college-level liberal arts," exactly. Most of my classes have been math and engineering.

I walk into my first class of the semester on Monday morning: Women of Early Modern Europe. The professor explains that it is completely okay if we have no background in women's history and asks for a show of hands of people who do. No student raises their hand. She then explains that, because it is a 2000 level history course, she expects people to have at least some background in history and asks for another show of hands. Everyone raises their hand. I raise mine, hoping that high school history counts. "Excellent," our professor says: "I had a nightmare the other night that two nursing students decided to take my class." I wonder how much worse that nightmare would have been if she knew an engineering student was taking her class?

I am not sure if this is unique to UCC, or just a characteristic of liberal arts, but I think courses here incorporate more independent study. Assessment is in the form of two heavily-weighted assessments. For nearly all of my courses, an essay worth 20% of the grade is due halfway through the term. An exam worth 80% of the grade takes place at the end of the term. In addition, not all of my classes assign specific readings--instead, professors mention books that would be helpful in our studies and suggest reading them to supplement lecture material. They also do not put notes on powerpoints: you really do have to take notes on what professors say. It is a little intimidating, but I am also very excited.