Not All That Glitters Is Gold

            They tell you to go to college to follow your dreams. “They” is your family, friends, teachers, community, and everyone in life who has impacted it in one way or another. It’s the people who tell you that you’re not going to be successful without a college education so they tell you to find something you love, learn as much as you can, and practice it every day for the rest of your life.

            Growing up it seems that everyone wants to be involved in the sports world somehow. Most boys, and some girls too, dream of becoming sports broadcasters, professional players, or somehow tied to that world.

            I was one of them. I had dreams of being a sports writer for as long as I can remember. In high school, while I was writing for the local newspaper and beginning my career, I had a lot of support. Random strangers would recognize my face from the paper and say that they liked my article or I was doing a good job. Coaches would tell me it was refreshing to see a pretty, female face in the sports department. Players were amazed I was their age or younger, yet writing about them so they could read their name in the paper the next day. I loved it, every aspect.

            While I was looking at colleges, I was solely focused on journalism schools. I wanted to become the best of the best and make my way to the top. Granted, being a female in a male dominated profession was going to be tough, but I was up for the challenge.

            When I toured Syracuse University, I fell in love with the S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications. It was the #1 journalism school in the country and I knew that if I could get in, I would be able to unlock doors so many other people would never even be able to imagine.

            Newhouse was the only school I applied to. Yes, I took the risk and only applied to one school. But I did get in. I was a part of the 9% who were admitted to the 2013 Newhouse freshmen class.

 My first class of my college career was an intro class to all of the different communications majors that Newhouse offered. You could feel the greatness of Newhouse when you walked in its doors. I made my way to my lecture, took a seat towards the front, and looked around. The other 119 kids that I sat amongst were too part of this elite group.

            I quickly discovered what it was like to be a Newhouse student at SU.

            When you introduced yourself to other students and they asked what school you were in at SU and you replied Newhouse, there were usually two responses. From my fellow Newhouse students, they would be overjoyed to meet “one of their own.” They would ask what clubs or organizations you were in or were planning on joining.  Every current event possible was free game for discussion or they would try to engage you in some sort of stimulating conversation about a topic that nine out of ten times I had no idea what they were talking about.

            Now if they were not Newhouse students. You were usually asked why you were talking to them then. “You’re too good for us,” was a phrase I heard many times in the first few weeks.

            Is this really what this school was like? Why did it hold this prestigious recognition in the country, but on its own campus, my fellow students couldn’t stand me?

            Nevertheless, the semester went on.

            I had two Newhouse classes my first semester. My intro to Newhouse professor liked to talk about herself, a lot. Her PhD, how she was from Florida and it was so much nicer to live there than Syracuse, her prior experience as a lawyer, and I could probably dedicate the rest of this blog to random, pointless shit I know about this lady, but I’ll spare you.

I went to her office hours only once because I’m not one of those students who suck up to her professors. I went this particular time because I didn’t do as well as I thought I did on an exam and she really encouraged us to come to go over the test and ask questions. I knocked on her door and she invited me in without looking up from what she was doing. I introduced myself and she told me to take a seat. She handed me my test and an answer key and said she didn’t have time for me right now because she had other things to do. I was confused because she practically begged us to come to her office hours and now she didn’t have time? I didn’t even look at my test; I simply walked out of her office and never looked back.

            My other Newhouse class was grammar. Now I took grammar in high school, and although I’m from the backwoods, my mom was an English major in college and has her master’s so she always made sure to correct me and teach me proper English so I didn’t talk like a hick. Therefore, I like to think I have a relatively good grasp on the language. I couldn’t figure out if this class was a way to scare me out of Newhouse, or just a complete joke. I’m thinking like many other things that involve this school, it was the latter. This particular professor made powerpoints and videos about her dog to somehow teach about grammar. And she was writing her own book for the class. Props to her for writing the book, but I had to pay $80 for this online book and she was writing it as the class progressed so there were many weeks where she would forget to post the chapters or they were posted well after we took a test. The icing on top of the cake though was when we were supposed to take a test for her class and usually my rule is, if a professor is 20 minutes late for class I leave. Well this day since we were to take our midterm I decided to stick around, 45 minutes into our hour and fifteen minute class she walks in, with her dog no less, and asked if we got her email. She said that her dog was having too much fun at the park and she just couldn’t pull her away. Seriously? I’m paying thousands of dollars to sit in a professor-less class because your stupid dog is at the park?

            As if my problems with professors weren’t enough, there was my run in with the assistant dean - multiple times.

            Despite my first two Newhouse classes giving me bad feelings about the school, I still wanted to be a sports writer. I thought the best way to do this was to double major in journalism and sport management. I talked to everyone in the sport management school I needed to talk to. They said that me coming in with 21 credits from high school and being a good student would definitely help and they’d love to have me in their program. I was told to be able to do this I’d have to make an appointment with the assistant dean of Newhouse and get her signature. So I did.

            I barely had a chance to get the words out of my mouth when she told me it probably wouldn’t be possible since the sport management core curriculum wasn’t the same as the Newhouse one. I explained how I came in with credits and had talked to multiple people in the other school, as well as a professor in Newhouse who was a former sports editor for a few major papers and everyone said it was going to work.

            She told me my dreams were stupid and maybe I should rethink another major and future job.

            Excuse me?

            The assistant DEAN of the #1 journalism school in the country told me my dreams were stupid? I had a lot I wanted to say to her but I was stunned. I never had anyone tell me to my face that my dreams were stupid. I grew up in a loving and supporting family and community where I was always taught to follow my dreams.

            I never cry, and if I do something is truly wrong. But when I left that lady’s office I broke down and called my dad. He told me to forget what she said, find a loophole, and if I wanted it badly enough to continue to go after my dreams, whatever they may be and however crazy they may seem.

            The semester progressed and every day I questioned whether I still wanted to be a sports writer. Maybe I should continue with my journalism degree, and find a way to be a sports writer without the sport management degree? Or maybe I should give up on sports writing in general. I mean, I was just a young girl who knew a lot about sports and liked to write. What made me think I could actually write for Sports Illustrated someday? Every day seemed like a constant battle of my dreams versus reality of what my future held.

At the end of the fall semester I was walking to take my final at Newhouse and there was graffiti on the building. I thought nothing of it because Newhouse people are usually artsy anyway and I was more focused on my final. I figured it was an advertisement or something someone did for a project. It wasn’t until I was walking out of the final that I really took a good look at it. “#1 in communication, LAST in free speech.” The more I thought about it, the more I agreed. I wrote something towards the beginning of the semester that didn’t paint the school in the picture-perfect light it’s grown accustomed to portraying, I was told to change it. That’s not how freedom of speech is supposed to work. For a school that won’t let you graduate until you can recite the First Amendment word for word, and that calls the First Amendment the foundation of its school, it’s very hypocritical. “Liars live here, are you one?” was also spray painted on the ground outside of one of the Newhouse buildings. As I was leaving campus to head home for Christmas vacation, I continued to think about it. Liars. That’s what I felt like when I was in Newhouse. The atmosphere was suffocating. I wasn’t a liar. I was not about to compromise my beliefs and writing because it didn’t fit the cookie-cutter mold the school wanted to exemplify. I was always taught to be honest and tell the truth. And even if that truth doesn’t paint things in the best light, or it may hurt someone’s feelings along the way, I have always been one to tell the truth anyway. This graffiti made me think of my own moral character and question why I was still part of a school that was restricting me and trying to change who I was.

            When I came back from winter break I decided to give the school another chance. Maybe I just took some of the wrong classes and got off to a bad start with the people at Newhouse?

At the very beginning of second semester I had to change a lab time for one of my classes. The lady in the astronomy department was very helpful and told me I just had to fill out a slip of paper. Leave it to Newhouse though to make sure nothing is simple. I got an email that they wouldn’t process my request because I didn’t fill out proper paperwork and get enough signatures. It’s not like I was trying to change classes, my major, schools, anything. I was only switching from one lab time to another.

            I also went to talk to my academic advisor the beginning of second semester to see where I stood and if I could double major in business. I figured if my sport management/journalism major was going to be shot down, a double degree in journalism and business was practical. She made me go through hell telling me that I didn’t pick the right classes and asking me when I thought I was going to apply to the business school because my grades probably wouldn’t get me in and neither would my lack of extracurricular activities. (Apparently a 3.3 GPA and member of the equestrian team meant absolutely nothing). I told her this was something I really wanted and asked for assistance. I also needed her to sign off on an ROTC paper for me. It was simply a list of my classes, yet she told me she wasn’t going to sign anything that was government controlled without first reviewing it. So I sat there for 20 minutes as she critiqued my class decisions and then told me at the end that becoming a member of ROTC wasn’t going to benefit me scholastically. I couldn’t believe the nerve of this woman trying to tell me how to live my life. I told her it wasn’t any of her business and she called me an ungrateful brat for not thanking her for her help. I had a few choice words for her and flipped a chair as I walked out of her office. I know that wasn’t a smart thing to do. I should have kept my mouth shut, thanked her for her time, and walked out. But I didn’t know what it was about people in that building that thought they were God’s gift to mankind.

            Things change and people change.

            I know that school certainly changed me.

            The more I thought about being a sports reporter, the more I didn’t want to. Not only had the faculty and staff of Newhouse crushed my dreams, but I don’t think morally I could be a sports reporter or even a reporter in general. Did I really want to go up to a coach after he lost the World Series and ask him why he thought his team lost? It was bad enough they lost; yet there I’d be rubbing it in and making him feel worse. Or did I want to be the one who had to interview an NFL player who was deemed not guilty of murder when the world knew he was? “Please tell me how you feel knowing you got away with murder because you’re an NFL player and can pay anybody off and have the legal backing to do whatever you please.”

            And from personal experience, I saw what it was like to have reporters go after people you love. I sure didn’t want that.

            I’m too opinionated, and I have a heart.

            When I decided to switch from a journalism to psychology major my parents really questioned my decision. I had busted my ass to get into Newhouse and here I was leaving because a few people had made it hard for me.

It was more than that though.  Those few people who didn’t have time for me and didn’t show me I cared in one semester were going to make it miserable for me in the remaining seven of my college career. They showed me that in Newhouse you’re just a number, but if you go on and do big things they’re going to take credit for it and make it known you were a Newhouse prodigy.

            Switching out of that school was one of the best decisions I ever made. Anytime I tell people around campus I was formerly a Newhouse student and transferred out, people judge me. I probably could have sold my spot there and made enough to pay for the rest of my college career.

            A piece of paper with a certain name on it doesn’t mean that much to me though. Neither does the lying, conniving, backstabbing, drama, and arrogance that surrounds the Newhouse school.

            Now I think back to what my dad told me freshman year when he said don’t let anyone get in my way of following my dreams, no matter how crazy they are. Getting into Newhouse was a dream, and I proved I could do it. Now leaving that school behind is helping me follow my real dreams in life. Ones that are bigger and better than anything that school could have ever provided me.

           

            So this is for you Newhouse. This is me expressing my First Amendment right of freedom of speech, which is what you preach; yet you don’t practice. I have the right to say what I want without you covering it up because it makes you look bad. Thanks for helping me figure myself out and I won’t miss you.