“The Truth About College: Why ‘The Best Four Years’ Isn’t Always True”
The truth behind the idea that college is the best time of your life.
“Ah, I remember my college years; they were easily the best four years of my life.”
About four years ago, when I was applying to college, nearly every elder in my life promised me that these four years would be the best of my life. At the time, that all sounded very promising to the naïve eighteen-year-old girl who spent most afternoons after school staring out her bedroom window, waiting to spread her wings and fly.
It is truly hard to believe how fast these past four years have flown by. It feels like yesterday that I was getting knots in my stomach at the thought of being so far away from my parents, and now, just a few months later, I am about to graduate from college and start the next chapter of my life in a different city.
Like any young adult navigating this convoluted world, I have changed in the best way possible.
Growing up, I saw college through an idealized lens. It felt like a fantasy, a place where dreams came to fruition. A place of freedom, friendships, effortless connections, and guaranteed success.
Now, don’t get me wrong, attending college has opened so many doors for me, professionally, academically, and personally. I have been fortunate enough to meet some of the most brilliant people, study at some of the most prestigious universities in the country, and learn from leading practitioners in my field. But most importantly, I have had the privilege of living in the most politically ambitious city in the world: Washington, D.C.
However, while college is often framed as one of the most exciting times in a young person’s life, truthfully, it can also be one of the loneliest.
A study conducted by activeminds.org in Spring 2024 found that nearly two-thirds (64.7%) of college students report feeling lonely. While college has many highs, it also has many lows.
Looking back, I wouldn’t say that I had the most “traditional,” so to speak, undergraduate experience, at least not the kind you see in the movies.
I was a transfer student. I began my collegiate career at the University of Denver, where I initially considered pursuing a Bachelor’s degree in Neuroscience and Biochemistry. Safe to say, I quickly realized that wasn’t the path I wanted to go down, and that the sciences weren’t really my thing.
Instead, I fell in love with the study of politics, its behavior, and theory. Shortly after, I filled out an application, packed my bags, and transferred to American University in Washington, D.C.
When it came to housing, during my first year of college, I lived in a dorm. I remember feeling so miserable and isolated in Denver that every weekend I packed my laundry bag and backpack and went home. I often heard people talk about how incredible their roommate experiences were. That simply wasn’t my experience, and that’s okay.
With my parents’ support, I moved to D.C. and was able to get an apartment all to myself, no roommate, near Georgetown, a historic, upscale neighborhood in Northwest D.C. along the Potomac River. I was a fresh twenty-year-old, excited about the opportunity to truly be on my own. I thought this would finally be the “college student experience” I had imagined.
I was equally excited and petrified to be living 1,600 miles away from home, but it felt right. Shortly after the move, while terribly homesick, I chose not to sit in sadness. Instead, I decorated my apartment and made it my home. I built my coffee table, nightstand, and shoe rack, and while the learning curve was steep, I made it through.
I always imagined that I would meet my friends, my people, and perhaps even my person during these formative adult years. Finding my people, whether in Denver or D.C., was harder than I expected. Every time I thought I had found a person or a group who I thought would be in my life forever, that belief turned out to be false.
Transferring midway through college, living alone, and studying in a hyper-independent city, while attending a university where the city itself is your campus, makes it difficult to meet the right people.
But that is okay. Because here’s the thing: college is an experience, good, bad, and ugly. And while my friend group has significantly decreased in size, I am eternally grateful for the friends I do have. Quality over quantity.
So, looking back, would I say college was the best four years of my life? No, the best is still ahead of me. Nonetheless, I wouldn’t change a single thing. Every experience, opportunity, challenge, and person has shaped me into who I am today. While my initial expectations did not align with reality, I am deeply thankful for the privilege of being educated and learning to stand on my own two feet. That, more than anything, has been the best part of these past four years.