A moment I’d anticipated since the day I got a thick orange and white acceptance letter in the mail when I registered for my first semester of classes when I checked my degree audit and it read 75 hours: today, I ordered my class ring.
My roommate helped me pick it out. We bundled up against the cold on our hike to the alumni center, where I tried on rings and consulted with her over gold versus silver and whether I should get a diamond on top or request antiquated finishes (whatever that means). I texted my mom to ask what to get engraved on the inner part of the band. On hers, she’d put her first name and maiden name – middle initial sandwiched between – so that’s what I put on mine. In two months, my yellow gold, natural finish, the diamond-less class ring will adorn the ring finger of my right hand.
Ordering my class ring was a genuinely exciting experience. It’s a memory I will cherish with my roommate – one of the first people I befriended in college – and on my walk to and from the alumni center, I thought fondly on my favorite classes and professors and times I’d spent with my friends – the late nights in the PCL, the tower picnics, the inedible J2 chicken – and was thankful for the little moments that comprise my college experience. But I was also left with a rush of deja vu and a touch of grief. I thought about the blue-and-white mask I wore in the alumni center, and how my mom didn’t have to wear one when she was deciding what to have engraved on her college ring. I took it off for the pictures with the oversized cardboard prop ring: I didn’t want it there to remind me. My favorite class memories blended with Zoom ones, when I’d stared at a screen of blank squares and never felt so alone, and walking past my freshman year dorm stirred up unhappy memories of my abrupt move-out, tainting the nostalgia I felt looking up into my old window. Thank you, COVID-19, I thought.
I am nevertheless thrilled to get my ring – I’m already getting a Pinterest board for outfit, hair, and nails inspiration together — because the pandemic’s pervasive presence throughout my college career doesn’t mean my time at UT was a total bust. It’s a different college experience than what I was expecting, to say the least – and while different doesn’t mean bad, I’m still trying to come to terms with this level of abnormality. Perhaps at my ring ceremony, I will look down at my new bling and see the good times and the effort I put into receiving it – every all-nighter, every laugh I shared with my friends – and remember how I still got to experience those things, even with COVID. I think it would be bittersweet to get my ring anyway, even if I had gone to college before the pandemic. What I’m experiencing is just a different brand of bittersweet, and one day I’ll realize that that’s okay.