THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: FRIDAY, June 24, 1994 TAG: 9406230031
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY HOLLY WESTER, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: 940624 LENGTH: Medium
While classmates bragged about the big-name universities they would attend in the fall, along with football games, frat parties, dorm roommates and other college life extras, I kept my mouth shut.
{REST} When I flipped through the pages of Tidewater Community College's comic-book size catalog, I thought all I had to look forward to was another year with mom and dad, a small campus and no social life. But after my second year at TCC, I believe that the two-year college is just as challenging and fun as any four-year institution out there.
During my senior year at Kellam High School in Virginia Beach, I applied to universities with respected journalism schools, such as Marshall, Syracuse and the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.
Of all the universities, Syracuse's Newhouse School showed the most interest, and the generous financial aid package they awarded me was proof. Unfortunately, I didn't have enough money to make up the difference, so I went for the cheap alternative - TCC.
During the summer after high school graduation, all I thought about was how much I didn't want to go to a community college. I wanted to go away to school - a big school - and that's all I cared about.
That sultry August day crept up on me and before I knew it, I was in a line that wrapped around the registration building. It was only 6 a.m., but there were at least 200 sweaty bodies ahead of me.
Just as I was beginning to relax, some familiar faces from high school cut in front of me, and my Walkman was snatched by one of them. It all seemed so juvenile.
Going to college with people I had known since puberty did not intrigue me. But here I was in line with my goofy elementary school classmates and junior high sweetheart.
That morning would be the last time I would doubt the quality of TCC. Although the parking lot was packed at times and cafeteria food was expensive, my experience has been positive.
The size of my classes was usually between 15 and 35 students. I liked being called by my name instead of my Social Security number. If I were missing, people noticed.
I really got to know my professors. They even gave out their home numbers for last-minute questions or concerns. In huge lecture halls at the university level, teachers don't even know what their students look like.
Since all TCC students commute, the social scene differed from university life. Although we didn't have dorm get-togethers, tailgate parties and the Greek rush season, we had our own thing. Besides the Native American powwows, poetry readings and movie parties, bands of all types visited our campus frequently for live sets during lunchtime cookouts.
The students I met at TCC are a group I'll never forget. Linda Weed, my 40-something-year-old public speaking classmate, gave me weekly updates on her son's single-living experience. Stacy Winchester, the 27-year-old bartender in theater class, showered me with older-sister advice. Terri Apollony, a 20-year-old after-class buddy, has become a very close friend.
The classes were challenging, interesting and for the most part, fun. I looked forward to each brain-straining session of school.
Now that I look back, I feel pretty lousy for prejudging TCC. Bashing community colleges was the cool and easy thing to do in high school, and without knowing the facts, I joined in on the finger pointing.
by CNB