Starting my junior year of college has felt odd. After being home for the summer, returning for the third time feels like I’m sitting comfortably but leaning uneasily forward. Like I could bolt immediately out before being forced to sit back down with a cramp in my leg, jonesing to get out of my seat again.
What I’m trying to say is that being a junior to me feels grounded, but almost unrealistically. How so?
Well, as a freshman, the opportunities stretch as far as the horizon can go. People and places, classes and clubs, they’re all new. They haven’t discovered the food and your favorites yet, so they try new things, despite upperclassmen warnings. A school of fish, all dumped outside their respective waters, able to experience everything they see, together.
Sophomores are more familiar. Maybe they have a major. Maybe they’re figuring it out. They’ve seen places and met people, and know what to expect when they return after their first break. After being away from the people they’ve been living with for the past year, it’s empowering to return like it’s just another place they belong. They most definitely have more to explore, and they have the confidence to stretch their horizon even further.
Now, it’s junior year, and everything has fallen into place. Mostly. Juniors are taking classes with more direction: the goal of a major is in sight, and they’re approaching the more taxing classes. The time spent dedicated to their education has always been in conflict with social life; even as a freshman, but that seems to come to life more often as a junior. Because as a junior, the attention isn’t on the new, it’s about continuing what has already started.
Sophomores and freshmen are in a position of discovery, slowly inching towards that feeling of regularity and comfort. But when they reach that comfort, it’s a lie. It’s merely a more obvious path towards the end. Choosing classes for junior year begins the path of momentum towards the end. And yet it isn’t considered something as fatal.
In fact, in a void, the junior isn’t considered much at all. Being here to learn and continue what has already started is what the junior does. So what’s there to consider? The freshman just started, the sophomore has grown comfortable, the senior is working hard to finish strong, reflecting on the world they’ve spent so much time and effort in, and the junior continues with the work, the goal, the friends, that they’ve built up all in hopes of … leaving? Is this the goal?
That feels unfortunate.
I admit, I didn’t expect this opinion piece to be so steeped in this wistful sadness of the present. Of course, being an opinion, it is of my direction and point of view. But at this point, it’s a lot more uncomfortable to acknowledge it.
Despite this, I don’t think that at the end of the day, the junior is forgotten because they think they are already on their way out. I might feel this way, but there’s something else that I know and feel for myself at the same time:
That the junior forgets themselves, because the path feels so clear. Just continue doing what has been done. Except now there’s more direction. There’s a major to reach for. There’s a club to become more involved in. There’s a sports team accepting new people. Now the junior has been there long enough to be part of the process of welcoming new people. The junior is everywhere and nowhere, because after all that, the junior is so busy looking ahead that they don’t realize the present they live in.
But now that I’m aware of it (and maybe so are you, no matter the year), it’s the perfect opportunity to treat every day slowly. That awkward comment you made to that freshman won’t be the end of the world; the year only just started. The class that isn’t what it said it was can be left behind; it’s easy to switch early on. Those people haven’t made the effort to stay in touch; give it time, everyone is busy. Or maybe find new people; no one is truly trapped.
Just take a breath, stand up slowly, and walk away from your desk.
