The Sophomore Slump: Why Second-Years Have it Rough
It’s about time that someone stood up for sophomores. I’m sick of all this fake news about how much easier Brown becomes, socially and academically, after freshman year. First-years cannot seem to wrap their tiny minds around the meaning of the term "Sophomore slump," so I’m here to set the record straight.Take walking into the Ratty. All of those long tables, at least ten filled with potential people I could sit with (club friends, class friends, dorm friends, freshman dorm friends, awkward eye contact in the blue room friends, etc.). How the hell do I decide where to pop a squat? Yes, I could do a ten-minute stop at each table and rotate for an hour, but my legs are already toned enough after I spent the summer successfully losing my freshman fifteen.
Onto more important things: my relationship with my mom is suffering, as I no longer spend three hours every night crying to her on the phone about how I will never find friends like my high school besties. Instead, I spend my weeknights doing homework and texting back a curt "good thx" whenever she asks how I am (sorry, Mom -- next week I'll add an "n you?").Shopping week should really be called online shopping week, because I spend most of my time going out at night and sleeping through the day, occasionally hopping on my laptop to see how many readings I'll have to eventually catch up on (AKA skim moderately to lightly).
Even lunch and dinner are not fun anymore. Going to the Ratty is no longer a life-or-death culinary lottery for my taste-buds. Where is the adventure in knowing to take three pieces of chicken because at least one will be too tough to chew? What happened to stealing ten apples with the assumption that at least one of them would not be mealy? Now, I know exactly what time to hit the Ivy Room to avoid a line and how to maximize my points.That brings me to another problem sophomores face -- walking across campus. When you know so many upperclassmen and first-years, it’s difficult to move from place to place without being aggressively bombarded by “hello’s” and “how are you’s.” Sometimes, all I want to do is listen to the sound of grass struggling to grow on Ruth Simmons Quad, or the sweet, subtle tunes of the Upper Thayer Sax Man playing selections from “My Favorite Things.”
It’s sophomore year, and my innocence is gone. My best years are behind me. Along with having friends to go to parties with and knowing how to game the Brown meal plan, I also spend far less time sobbing and my general, underlying sense of impending doom has slightly lessened.Freshmen just don’t get how tough it is to be ME. Images via, via, via, and via.