High school was downright intimidating. In a microcosm of insignificant sports team victories, lunch period clamor that hurt my ears, and trivial taunting, there was really no room to be any better or any worse than my peers. I hid in books and hand-sewn jumpers in the middle of seas of identical desks.
I was bored. I wanted to take classes that weren’t offered. My requests were lost in the piles and piles of paperwork in the student-counseling center. I wanted to join clubs that didn’t exist yet. Academic counselors treated me like a pair of mismatched socks, but I’d be damned if even part of me got lost in the dryer. I was tired of inattention and my posters of Flannery O’Connor weren’t talking back.
The first time that I realized that the line between those who take action and those who passively wander through life is completely illusory was during my freshman year at UB. I came to find that there was absolutely no inherent difference between the “me” and the “them”—especially with the clean slate that college offers, we all have close to the same resources available to us. Particularly, as young people with the opportunity to earn an education, we have more of the means to become people that facilitate change and exert influence.
Anything that I wanted to do, I did. Mentally, I placed myself in the same category as everyone whom I look up to. Hell, I walked into a Generation informational meeting without knowing anyone on staff or anything about what we do here. Earlier this year, I wanted to attend the presidential inauguration to conduct interviews and experience something unforgettable. I went. With my license as a student journalist, I asked anyone anything that I wanted to know. I’m currently applying for fellowships and internships all across the country, sending writing samples, essays, and resumes to people I’ve never met before. I’m just trusting in the idea that when I give something my all, I have as much, if not more, going for me as everyone else.
Jill Gregorie’s article, “New Kids on the Block” presents two politicians who were elected as State Representatives at the age of 25. After graduating college with semi-relevant bachelors degrees and fresh ideas, Elsie Fleming and Matthew Lesser went on to join a league of individuals that had been working in the political arena since they were in diapers. Unruffled by surface-level criticism and unintimidated by more-seasoned critics, Fleming and Lesser use the Clean Elections system as an invaluable device, putting them on par, financially, with others looking to run for public office. Similar services are offered to us, as university students. An array of scholarships, fellowships, and grants are always up for grabs either through the school, or through other publicly or privately funded organizations. These can be used to supplement financial shortcomings that would otherwise prevent students from having access to real-world experience in their field of study. Through these programs, if there’s a will, there’s usually a way.
The cover story presents an example of individuals who achieve their will to help others by raising money in an unusual way. Andrew Blake introduces to us a group of three men in their twenties who founded Buffalo Whiskerino, a charitable organization that earns Firestone and Blane a place among other good Samaritans in the community. They raise money by encouraging people to participate in a mustache-growing contest where sponsors agree to donate money to those who refrain from shaving. It’s people like them that you might look at, admiringly. It also happens to be people like this duo that you have the means to become. In fact, Firestone is currently a student in the University at Buffalo’s School of Social Work. This is another example of a scenario in which the line between the “you” and the “them” is blurred beyond visibity.
Your undergraduate years are a critical period that should be savored. If you aren’t using the resources that are offered to you, you’re cheating yourself out of a largely unspoken of portion of the education that you’re paying for. Anyone can graduate with a four-year degree in something. It’s those who approach their studies dynamically by acknowledging the potentiality that they possess that make the farthest leap away from being nothing but average. They choose to learn outside the classroom, read between the lines, and think outside the box.
