An Open Letter to the Class of 2022
Dear Class of 2022,
I’ve been watching you—all of you. You think you’re so cool, don’t you? Casually walking around with your smiling faces and overstuffed backpacks and swinging lanyards. I see you grin when the adoring crowd thrusts flyers in your hand and calls out “Class of 2022? ’22? ’22?” as you pass by. Tell me, how does it feel to be pursued?
How does it feel to be wanted?
No, wait, don’t tell me. I already know. You see, I was like you once—full of hopes and dreams and ideas for my FLO applications. It all seems so long ago now, but a little over a year ago, Howdy Week was running in full-force for me. Those flyers were being passed out for me. Those informationals were being held for me. I gobbled up all the attention like it was my daily slice of greasy MSC pizza.
What did I get for all those interviews, short answer questions and free résumé workshops? Nothing. Nada. Zip. A bunch of rejection emails thanking me for my interest and time, as if there were any other uses of my time than going to another ‘casual interview’ so the officers could ‘really get to know me’! Even my ‘new best friends’ seemed to mysteriously lose my number once the notifications went out.
It’s ok. I’m past that now. Besides, my Fish Camp DG mom said rejection is part of the college experience. Well, at least I imagine that’s what she would say. I haven’t seen her since October of last year.
I’m getting off track. I wanted to remind the class of ‘22 to cherish these days while they last because come Fall 2019, you’ll be just like me—another washed-up sophomore who nobody cares about anymore. That weird girl in your Biology class won’t even invite you to her church’s bible study.
Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.
Sincerely yours,
The Class of ‘21
—Heldenfalls
Once an average student eons ago, Heldenfalls committed some unknown sin against the Aggie gods and has since been burdened with a strange punishment: She is forced to carry her backpack to the top of the infamous Heldenfels stairs only to fall back to the bottom again over and over for all eternity. Though this may seem like a horrible fate, the philosophy department argues that Heldenfalls’ endless task represents the absurd heroism of the human condition. Each atom of that backpack, each mineral flake of those concrete stairs, in itself forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a woman’s heart. One must imagine Heldenfalls happy.