Remembering a rough start to freshman year

My freshman year began less than 18 hours after the death of my grandfather. As soon as my father and sister had helped me carry all my stuff into my new room in the Quad, they left me there and returned to the rest of my grieving family. In other words, leaving home and moving in for my first year of college didn't go quite the way I'd expected.

It was a very sudden death, but, despite the shock factor, my parents and I thought I should still move in as planned so that I could attend New Student Orientation and get acquainted with life at Penn. I would go back home after a few days to attend the wake and funeral.

I'd been very stable and surprisingly able to cope with the death in the family, but in addition to the sudden loss of my dear grandfather, this particular tragedy still cast quite a dark shadow on the whole idea of leaving home and moving into a strange new room at a strange new place called Penn.

I was determined not to let this completely ruin my experience. Shortly after my dad and sister had left, I stayed focused on the task at hand, unpacking a few more things, inspecting some of the finer details of my new room and even figuring out how to connect my computer to the Ethernet.

When I ran out of ways to keep busy, it finally occurred to me that I should get out of my room and go meet some other freshmen. I looked out my window into the lower Quad and saw plenty of freshmen in the process of moving in, but everyone I saw was accompanied by parents or siblings. It was just like one of those cheesy movie scenes when the protagonist, who had just broken it off with his significant other, sees dozens of couples walking down the street, happily holding hands, if not hugging or kissing.

At that moment, I finally found out what it meant to feel lonely. I found it so odd that I could feel alone in a place with so many other people milling about. Nonetheless, I was still up there in my room, by myself, without a clue of what I was supposed to do except wait for someone else on my hall to move in. For a split-second, it was almost terrifying.

Suddenly, a knock on my door.

I opened it to reveal a relatively short, fuzzy-haired guy with a dark goatee.

"Hi, I'm Ammar. I live in room 205. I heard you moving in, so I thought I'd introduce myself."

And suddenly I had a friend.

Ammar was a sophomore who had lived in the Quad the previous year, and he was nice enough to show me around. We hung out that afternoon and many afternoons and evenings since. Three years later, we're still good friends, and, although there are times when he pokes his head into my room at less than opportune moments, his entrance into my life was perfect.

It's amazing what a little friendliness can do. It might not seem like such a grand gesture to introduce yourself to your neighbors or to offer a little guidance to a classmate or lowerclassman, but it can really mean a lot to someone, especially to a freshman who's feeling a little lost.

I'm sure we all will see plenty of such freshmen struggling to find their way around in the next few weeks, whether they're taking a walking tour through West Philly or trying to find Huntsman Hall on the first day of class. But I also know that they have plenty of classmates and even more upperclassmen who just might be willing to help them out.

That's one of the greatest things about Penn. Sure, the University might be ranked fourth in the nation on the basis of peer assessments, resources and a handful of other factors, but we all know these criteria can never truly capture a school's character. A school's greatest asset is its student body.

Take, for example, the hundreds of peer advisers and New Student Orientation volunteers involved in helping freshmen move in and get acquainted with their new home. It's hard to imagine the process happening so smoothly without these programs.

Of course, we all know that we can occasionally lose sight of this warm, welcoming attitude, and we sometimes get so focused on our classes or activities or job searches that we won't spare anyone the time of day. With that said, these cases of temporary self-absorption are just that -- temporary. I merely hope that, once the hustle and bustle of the school year kicks into full gear, we can find a way to limit these instances and maintain a sense of welcoming and openness that extends beyond the days of NSO.

Eventually, the frosh will grow tired of the "Where are you from?" conversations, and they'll even lose interest in actively pursuing new friendships, but a genuine smile and a simple greeting never grow old.

You never know when someone might need it most.

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