Three weeks ago I managed to experience both a snowstorm and 70-degree weather within the span of nine hours. I could already feel tendrils of dread unfurling within my stomach as my flight landed at Los Angeles International Airport from Washington D.C. I had an amazing fall semester, but I had just spent six peaceful weeks lounging around my home.
When it came time to say goodbye to my family, I was sad to leave for school. The nerves I had repressed on the plane ride to Los Angeles clawed their way into my mind when I remembered the five long months of independence that I now had ahead of me.
It was the small luxuries I experienced over winter break that I mourned my first week back: the chopping sounds of the cutting board as my mom prepared dinner, my dog who always curled up by my feet on the couch and cocooning myself in blankets as snow fell outside my window.
There are so many things I adore about college, but when I’m home I can fully relax in a way that I can’t while at school. In the warmth of my childhood home, there are no cold walks in the dark to find a dining hall and no professor hounding me for a ten-page history paper.
For the six weeks that I was home, I was taken care of in a way that is impossible to replicate at school. It was reassuring to know that I could rely on the safety net of my parents instead of having to constantly problem-solve and provide for myself.
At home, I’m my parents’ daughter. At school, I’m an adult.
Despite everything I just said, I would actually consider myself someone who flourishes when faced with independence: I thrive on hard work and the validation that comes from achieving things through my own ambition. However, I would be lying if I said that I hadn’t found the task of stepping back into my “big-girl shoes” daunting.
There were a million anxious thoughts racing through my head during my first weekend on campus. Will my close friends and classmates be happy to see me after so many weeks? Would any of the plethora of PERMs I had submitted before break finally be accepted? Which friends will be in my classes? Who — of the girls I regularly went to Hoch with on Wednesday nights last semester — would still be available for a “pasta-bar dinner”?
With so many moving parts, it felt impossible for me to ease myself into a new semester.
After a week of feeling disoriented I grew tired of feeling like the spring semester was tossing me around. I realized that to find my rhythm again, I needed to welcome the turbulence that spring semester could bring. I turned my attention to the one thing that I could control: Trying my best to have a great second semester.
Since the first week, I’ve made a persistent effort to make plans with old friends that I haven’t hung out with since freshman year. When I first came back to campus, my life felt like a mismatched puzzle with pieces spread all over the table. Now, I’m working to find new pieces to fit into the puzzle, with the hope that I will be able to expand the borders.
“At home, I’m my parents’ daughter. At school, I’m an adult.”
Every morning I list the things in Claremont I anticipate I will miss while at home: Sixth Street rivalry games, darties on Green Beach and trips to Iron and Kin for coffee. I still yearn for a shower where I don’t have to wear flip-flops, but I must remind myself that every day becomes easier as I propel myself forward.
If anyone else is also struggling with the kick-off of the spring semester, just know that you’re not alone. Countless college students are grappling with this same adjustment right alongside you.
As the discomfort of the past few weeks gradually ebbs away, college life begins to become my own again. I may occasionally long for the nippy days I spent sledding down my neighbor’s yard every February, but I’m looking forward to sipping a latte at the Hub under the sunny sky of Claremont.
Norah Mannle CM ’27 hails from the suburbs of Washington D.C. In her free time, she enjoys long walks, critiquing new coffee shops and skiing.