Walking through the historic Arch of the Centuries is a Thomasian rite of passage, the opening scene of your coming-of-age movie directed by you.

I still have a grainy video in my mind of myself crossing the arch. The drumline of the Yellow Jackets beats in the background as I hurried my steps through the arch while still in a bind with who I was and who I wanted to be.

As I found out, the truth is, the next few years might feel like a coming-of-age film, but it’s no blockbuster. And that’s okay.

In some parallel universe, I hope the freshman version of myself stumbles upon this ode and that it finds its way to freshies who need it too.

No one has it figured out

(Photo by Gio Manipula/TomasinoWeb)

I wasn’t expecting a High School Musical special, but graduating as part of the “pandemic batch” who experienced the last two years of high school at the time of the outbreak meant distance learning and missing out on formative years to build who I was.

I felt behind. The term “pandemic skip” was tossed around on TikTok to describe this feeling. It’s like being stuck after seemingly skipping a three-year-long chapter of what should have been social and personal growth.

So when I finally stepped into the campus, I felt unprepared. It was as if I had missed the rehearsals and walked straight into the scene with no script in hand.

I realized that I wasn’t prepared for how heavy the pressure can feel when I’m starting again.

Every fresh start comes with this urge to reinvent ourselves: “I have to do this and be that.” That’s part of the perk when, like me, who showed up in a city where no one knew who I was, I got the chance to have another version of myself.

New beginnings and newfound independence can be both exciting and overwhelming. For the most part, there’s the anxious feeling of wanting to fit in and feeling the pressure to be everything on the checklist: to maintain a good academic standing, to keep a good circle of friends (who may come and go), and join the right orgs before the end of September.

I thought I was expected to know precisely who I was and where I was going from day one.

But, dear past self, and any other freshies reading this now, I’ll tell you a little secret: you’re not supposed to know.

You don't get to know. It’s forgivable to be lost in your first year, figuratively and literally.

There’s a level of lighthearted disposition that grants a wide-eyed newcomer permission to be overwhelmed—and that’s completely normal, expected, and even necessary. I found comfort in believing everyone around me was also figuring it out. Some might fake it better, but trust me, they’re improvising as they go.

Every mistake, every friendship, every indecision is crucial to building the lore of who you’re becoming. There’s merit in getting everything right the first try, but more so in realizing that you don't have to.

Growth doesn’t happen in certainty; it happens in trying, failing, and showing up despite not knowing what’s next.

We hold the director’s slate. We call the shots. But there are also scenes that are not ours to call. New chapters begin and others fade to black. And sometimes, we stumble onto a set with no script. But what choice do we have? We move forward, not because we’re ready, but because life keeps rolling.

Nothing is trivial as freshmen

(Photo from The Perks of Being a Wallflower)

Freshman year is full of firsts. You have your whole life ahead of you, but the days are long and the years are short. Before you realize it, you’re a sophomore, junior, or senior looking back in bittersweet nostalgia.

Realize that the best perk is that you’re finally here. “Take the moment and taste it,” as Taylor Swift says, for it will all fly by quickly. So embrace the novelty of the Thomasian freshman experience of walking through the Arch of the Centuries, donning tiger merch, and chanting the iconic “GO USTe.”

When everything is new, everything feels like it matters more. So relish every little moment. It might be easy to say “live in the moment” when everything’s happening all at once, but it is true.

Like the first time I walked across Plaza Mayor alone one morning, with the sun not too scalding, just warm. Something in the ordinariness of walking to class slowed my steps because that moment felt bigger. Like stepping into something I’d waited for years.

Being here also opens doors to endless possibilities. This place holds the weight of dreams, beginnings, and potential. There exist infinite versions of ourselves, and what awaits is the one shaped by our choices and will.

Of course, it’s not all cinematic montages. The first failed test might feel earth-shattering and like you’ll never recover, but you always will. In fact, somewhere in my days of doubt and feelings of impostor syndrome, I was learning how to show up for myself, by persevering through the messy work of growth. Whether that meant dragging myself out of bed or nodding to lectures before my mind caught up.

This effort and commitment, even in difficult times, built my self-trust and rewired my response to struggle because now I have taught myself to meet where I am with patience and kindness, instead of retreating as I used to.

I used to think I had to prove something to myself and to the people close to me, but becoming someone isn’t about being impressive; it’s about being authentic. And authenticity takes courage and time. So don’t let the pressure to be put together rob you of the grace it takes to be a work in progress.

You might worry about this, but the fact is, most of the best plot twists and character arcs unfold slowly. Thus, give your movie the runtime it needs. Freshman year is your slice of life, a character-driven portrayal of the ebb and flow of every day.

Carpe diem

(Photo from Aaliyah Reyes/TomasinoWeb)

“I know these will all be stories someday, and our pictures will become old photographs. But right now, these moments are not stories.”

These words from The Perks of Being a Wallflower bring the upside of the temporary—to enjoy everything while it lasts.

These are fleeting moments that we almost won’t notice flying by. Invest in the experience and try new things in your freshman year to the best of your abilities—meet people, take care of yourself, and enjoy your time in the University we’ve all dreamed of.

There will be days of downpours, and you will feel time slipping by. But there will also be days filled with the comfort of confiding in a friend, confidence in yourself, and sureness in your ways.

Truly experiencing the thrill of being a freshman comes when you trade fear and doubt for curiosity and let yourself be without pressure. And may that be when you realize the possibility was never out there–it was always you.

I pictured my college years to be different. I had hoped to portray a louder, cooler version of myself, but what happened wasn’t the movie I imagined. My reality was mostly awkward cuts and scenes that only made sense in hindsight. It’s not what I expected, but the years of ups and downs mattered most.

Pat yourself on the back for making it this far. You made this happen, and you’re only set to make yourself prouder.