By: Laura Farhy

I never should have gone to college. The only reason I went was because a concerned friend took it upon herself to enroll me, register me for classes, and apply for scholarships, so I could afford to be there. I owe her my life.

As a young high-school kid, I never considered college, because I never considered I could be anything other than what I already was. I had no hope for the future because I didn’t believe I was capable of achieving anything in the future. Why bother?

While all the other seniors in my school posted their college plans on the walls of our high school hallways, I hid mine in the locker of my self-consciousness. I was the runt hiding from the bully, I called reality. Almost every teacher knew better than to ask where my plan was. I had already met my expectations.

The only expectation that seemed to apply to me was the one bound to my physical appearance; It was the only standard that came with constant social commentary. Socially, culturally, academically, and logistically, my weight and appearance were the standards to uphold. So, I complied.

Then, I started my first college English class with (accidentally) one of the hardest professors you could take in the department. He was a Gordon Ramsey for grammar, and demanded excellence from everyone. 

In his class, I was introduced to philosophy for the first time, and I realized I wasn’t only understanding the material. I could keep up with the lectures and the logic. Inspired and intrigued by my new mental capabilities, I took another class with him.

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