Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: TUESDAY, September 27, 1994 TAG: 9409290013
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 6 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Jonathan Hunley
DATELINE: WILLIAMSBURG LENGTH: Medium
I hear this phrase repeatedly from one of my hall mates here at William and Mary. I say repeatedly because this is his reply to me whenever I become frustrated.
And being a college student can often be frustrating.
The class work hasn't been too bad - yet. But all the little things seem to pile up. My dorm in Yates Hall is convenient to most of campus, and it still takes me almost 10 minutes to go anywhere. I must either hike off campus or bribe one of my friends to drive me when I need to go to the bank or grocery store.
Kristen Schnittger, who lives in the hall next to mine, recently celebrated her 18th birthday, and we joked about how we're all adults here.
Funny, I don't feel like an adult. I still don't like to do homework and I still have a hard time meeting girls - uh, I mean women - but I have new responsibilities.
At college, if I don't make up my bed, it stays unmade. There's no Mom around. And if I want coffee, I have to make it. There's no Coffee Shop here, either. But so far these jobs have come naturally.
The kicker is laundry.
I had a grandiose plan at the beginning of summer vacation to learn how to wash the ol' wardrobe. I thought I'd ease into it. Wash and learn at home, where I had all my clothes in case I ruined something.
Summer, however, is for being lazy. And since I knew I would be busy in college, I got in as much leisure time as possible - at the expense of laundry lessons.
So, when I ran out of clean clothes, I went on my first cleaning crusade. I figured I'd give it the "old college try." (I've always worried about this expression. Did this mean I was to fail? Why isn't it the "old college win" or the "old college success"? After all, "good try" is what you say to your buddy when you don't have the heart to say that he messed up.)
The washers and dryers here are one-button machines, so I've fared well so far. As of this writing, I've done three loads, and to my knowledge, every item is still the same color it was when I started.
The credit for this miracle isn't mine, however. The guys down the hall can tell you I've asked them a thousand questions about what I can wash with what.
For you see, this isn't high school. And although my former teachers and classmates may take offense, I appreciate this fact every day. No matter how bad college ever gets, at least it's not high school.
We all share a common bond at William and Mary, because we all chose this school over everywhere else. I don't feel I have to impress the cliques anymore. And I don't have to compete with others because my ZIP code is different from theirs. I've met people who don't even know where Roanoke is, let alone care what street I live on.
This comfort doesn't make college home, though.
I've been on campus since Aug. 19, and it still seems that when my classes are over I should get in my car and drive back to my house. I continue to open up the door to my room and expect my dog to be there to meet me and my mom to be there to ask about the day. I eat dinner about 6 p.m. because I know my dad won't get home from work until then.
But lots of times, my room is empty. My roommate operates on his own schedule, and it isn't his job to greet me in the afternoon. And sometimes I miss dinner because I have to do work for the school newspaper.
This is one of the times I think I sound a bit too much like a Hallmark Card, but you can't substitute another place for home.
A friend I met from New Jersey left a message on my door today to call for Grateful Dead tickets for Oct. 8-11, but this is over my fall break, and I'm not going anywhere but four hours to the southwest of Williamsburg.
I didn't believe my dad when he told me not to bring so much stuff for my dorm room.
"You're not moving," he said.
"But I am moving for most of the year," I countered.
Father knows best. I'm not gone forever. I'll be back when I mess up the laundry.
Jonathan Hunley was an editorial assistant at this newspaper. His occasional column addresses the teen-age experience - good, bad and everthing in between.
by CNB