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I was hit by a special brand of panic reserved for freshmen. Helplessness— that was how they labeled it. Appropriately termed, actually, because it applies to a considerable number of freshmen students. The word used to be my companion, by the way. That was three years ago— my freshman year, which I also consider to be the most critical of college life.
I stepped into this alien world called college without anything except for a faint memory of my high school know-hows. Dressed in a rather chic clothing (no one wants to look hideous on a first day, for goodness’ sake!), I engaged in a light chitchat with this curly-haired stranger. As the norm suggests, we exchanged names (I couldn’t forget the grace with which I said mine. My speech mentor should be proud!). All of a sudden, we found ourselves surrounded by a collage of people overeagerly introducing themselves and shaking hands until we all had a total of 27 new acquaintances.
I didn’t know what to do after that. Neither did I have the slightest idea where to go. Looking for the university canteen with my classmates was a pathetic case of blind leading the blind. The search for comfort rooms was less tiring, yet it still took me several minutes.
So that was my first day. Nothing extraordinary, really. Following that school opening was a whirlwind of events— the rest was printed in my diary. Just give me a call if I left you hanging with excitement; and if you find joy in deciphering telltale signs of life lessons. Or if you’re just inclined to gossiping— I may let you take a peek at my writings.
My sophomore year was way too different. It comprised the most stressful days of my career as student. It was that unfortunate time when all the requirements seemed to get clumped together, worsened by life’s other griefs which I could never seem to put off. With this, I was usually left with either of these two awfully silly resolves: (1) stare into space; (2) go straight off to Zzzz- land! Hooray!
Just kidding. I could not comply with the requirements with these totally absurd solutions. Those could not even be considered as such because these result problems to pile up even more. However, I admit that there were times when I felt anxious, yes, but immobilized to do a thing. The problem was how to get things started. My experience taught me that starting has always been the hardest part. Maybe it was also a state of mind. Mine had just slightly lost track of its proper functioning. Ha-ha! Ridiculous.
Flitting from one project to another requirement, I thought it was wise to practice any one of these two: (1) burn the midnight oil (check the drawers for refill); (2) force your sleepy head to rise at dawn. Panicky and distracted, I realized that these did not prove effective. The sad ending? Average- looking outputs. Wasted time. Worthless efforts. So where was happily ever after?
Come to life— it was with us all along. I was just too busy doing things the hard way that I failed to recognize the easy way out— the best ones. Going through a brief bout of introspection, I began to comprehend that the problem wasn’t really the tons of requirements. It’s the manner by which I chose to complete those requirements that kept pulling me down. There was a point when I thought that cramming was the best coping mechanism. I had always expected to finish doing things in a single, exhausting stretch. Of course, this should never be the case. But this is a practice that students have long learned to live with, I believe.
Why not perform tasks less dauntingly by going through a step by step process? Start making requirements at an earlier date, not a day before the cutoff. Aside from this, a personal action plan is essential— one that includes the list of all the things to be accomplished. The sheer physical thrill of crossing them off will give us momentum and keep us going. This will further save us a load of angst— and time.
Procrastination was never a choice. Neither does cramming. It’s a mortal sin among the entire student population. It is not a part of any school curriculum and I can assure you, it will never be. Practice not the art of the pause.
It was that word which has hit me with so much intensity. Good thing I didn’t break into pieces.
So if ever you likewise get hit, make sure you don’t crash too hard. Never cram!
by Anjenelle Amante
