When I got to college I quickly fell in with a group of other freshmen honor students. We had lots of fun and thought that we were adults. We looked up to the junior and senior honor students that we hung out with sometimes. We called them the Bigs.
I am one of the Bigs now.
I had this realization the other day while listening to some freshmen discussing one of their classes. They were complaining about a class called Biblical Worldview. They thought it was hard.
For context, when I got my concussion two years ago, I wrote a paper for that class that I actually don’t remember writing. I got an A. I’m a pretty smart cookie, but it’s not an exaggeration to say that you can pass that class with half your brain tied behind your back.
But these freshmen were telling each other how different it was from high school and how much harder it was. All I could think was, “Oh you sweet summer child.” They have no idea what they’re getting into.
I keep wanting to sit down every freshman that I see and tell them all the mistakes I made and how to avoid them. I want to hug them and tell that everything is going to be okay, that they’ll get used to this, even though it’s hard. I guess what I’m saying is that freshmen are giving me maternal instincts I didn’t know existed.
The other thing that freaks me out a bit is that kids that I worked with when they were eight and nine are on Facebook talking about exams in high school. It’s hard for me not to keep seeing them as the fuzzy-headed little cuties that would run up to me and hug me around the waist because that’s all they could reach.
Is this what getting older feels like? If so, I don’t like it. I want to go back to when my biggest worry was whether or not I would manage to finish my two page Evangelism paper in time to go see a concert.
Forget all this internship searching and worrying about my future nonsense.