$1,800 for classes, $1,762 for rent, $700 for food, $827.32 for entertainment, and an income of $5.15 an hour with a maximum work load of 20 hours per week. This is the rough sum of my three summers living in Baldwin City. I am a senior who has never left.
If I still make this statement three years from now call me crazy, but for right now call me obedient. I would like to say I follow directions very well.
We all remember our First Year Experience class, where the teacher and, if you were lucky, a good looking upperclassmen, told you to get involved, get involved, get involved. They told you to take leadership roles, travel and not to go home all the time.
Well, that is exactly what I did; I stretched myself to everything that I could. I did not want to miss out on the “college experience.” I was even blacklisted from this very newspaper for appearing too often.
With all that said, I would probably do it again because I’m hardheaded and obviously ignorant.
There are changes I would make, though.
I would go home more. I never realized how much the emphasis I put on being active in school allowed me to forget about the people who cared about me.
I have missed large chunks of my siblings growing up, and it only seems right that you are there to poke fun at your tomboy sister as she gets ready for her first date or there to cheer on your baby brother as he wins league in the triple-jump as a freshman.
The extra time with my now-deceased mom that we could have spent learning that recipe for the chocolate chip pie that as a child I snuck and ate until I was sick would have been priceless.
Yes, college is the time in your life to find yourself, to have fun and to learn your own style. College is not the time to grow away from your home base.
When all is said and done, Baker University has a great family feel that I have been so fortunate to be a member of.
I have more surrogate moms than I can count on one hand. (If you need a good college mom visit Constant Hall, Parmenter Hall or Pulliam Hall to name a few; there are great moms in those buildings.)
But, the truth is your flesh and blood is your flesh and blood.
If you need a kidney, where are you going to look first? Your flesh and blood.
So as you join another group, or party until 3 a.m., think, could this have been one of the random weekends I go home to ensure that my little sister does not take over my room?
It could be a chance to see the parental units or give my brother a dirty glare for the 15-year-old hoochie mama he has sitting on the couch, doing I-don’t-want-to-think-about what.