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I am a transfer student. I wasn’t sitting beside you during that daunting first convocation. Nor was I there in the beginning when you had your first adventures at the College of Charleston. I wasn’t here for the start of school with my age group, and I won’t graduate with my age group. I am beginning my third year of college with only beginning sophomore credits.

I am a transfer. I am basically starting college anew.

The trouble with being a transfer is that you are essentially stuck between two worlds: the life you built at your previous University and the life you hope to have in the present.

There is no urgency to make close friends because you already made some incredible lifelong friendships at your old school.  The problem is, that lifelong friend is somewhere else having their own adventures. That lifelong friend is a voice in a telephone. That lifelong friend is not the person going out with you on the weekends.

The trouble with being a transfer is that you are essentially beginning college all over again. Entering new hallowed halls for the first time, and becoming lost. Asking for directions, and walking into the wrong classroom. In the case of the College of Charleston, prancing across the cistern while unbeknownst to you another year is added to your college career because of a superstition no one told you about until it was too late.

Pridefully assuming that each college is just another institution, and that conquering one is the same as facing them all. Expecting syllabus week to be a multi-day event; then racing to the bookstore after the first day to find that textbook you didn’t expect to need until weeks away.  Assuming that having the thought provoking comments in the English classes at your old school meant that now your every opinion would be applauded.

I am a transfer, and ask for your patience and forgiveness. I talk about the people from my old school to try and bring them with me. I ask hundreds of questions to try and understand my new world. I apologize for beginning every other sentence with, “At my old school …”

I am a transfer, and I am incredibly grateful for the opportunities that I have had. However, no matter what anyone says about their previous school, there is a reason that they are no longer there. For some their old school couldn’t fulfill certain social or academic needs.  In my case, I have never been one to enjoy staying in one place for a long time. Although, I hadn’t anticipated two years being too long for me at Shorter University. Unfortunately, after a sophomore year filled with more anxiety and depression than I could cope with I made the choice to leave. Luckily, I discovered the College of Charleston. As it turns out the most challenging year of my life opened my eyes to the possibility that my time at Shorter had come to a close.  I truly believe that Shorter taught me so many lessons that have made me who I am today, but during the month of May 2017 after a really honest consideration of my life I came to the conclusion that it was time to move on.

After a month in my new city of Charleston, South Carolina, and three weeks of classes I could not be more grateful for the way in which life fell into place. Most importantly I am grateful for a random google search that brought me to CofC.

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