So after a long, drawn-out application process and a brief orientation, it was time to begin my life as a Rattler. Of course you hear your friends’ expectations, but I truly met this experience with zero anticipation of what was to come.
The night before was sleepless to say the least. Would I really be the only white person in my classes? Would I be the subject of countless racial jests? Naïve questions of course, but one can never know what they would be thinking in the shadow of their first day of graduate school; much less my situation.
The dawn of that first Monday hit and my nerves had calmed down a bit. As I stepped into that muggy early morning dew, I was ready for the challenge. My first class, News Writing and Reporting went off without incident. My second featured a Skype session with our professor as she was working for the state department in D.C.
Only having one more class to knock out on Tuesday, I already felt in command of my surroundings. However, my increased sense of self confidence would return to haunt me.
As the clock hit 5:30 Tuesday afternoon, I strolled into what I thought was my Research Methods class. A few of my classmates followed with a look of confusion on their faces. “Why are we looking at a 1000-level biology syllabus,” we wondered? The location of the class had been changed to a room downstairs, so we made the trek down the hallway to our final destination.
After a few jokes by the professor about how smart graduate students REALLY are, we began the introduction portion of the inaugural meeting. The objective was to get to know your classmates better, but with only four or so journalism students in the class of 30 it was quite unnecessary.
One by one, they all stood and divulged the most boring information known to mankind: name, place of origin, college of undergraduate study, and why they came to FAMU. “Oh boy!” I thought to myself. “Here’s my chance to say something clever in a moment of monotony.”
“Hi, my name is Jonathan Lowell, I come from Panama City, and I completed my undergraduate degree in English at Florida State University…..and obviously I came to Floirda A&M for the DIVERSITY!”
Crickets……..
Oh no! What have I done?! Why did I choose this moment to make myself look like “the funny white boy who got jokes”?
I shrank back into my chair and said nothing for the duration of the period. I had done so well in making a good impression on my peers, and in one statement, may have ruined it all.
Luckily, my classmates are all adults and brushed off my flat attempt at humor. I learned to earn the respect of my peers through dedication and hard work, and to implement racial commentary sparingly.
…But if there’s one piece of advice I can impart to anyone reading this, it would be:
Save the jokes for week two!
The night before was sleepless to say the least. Would I really be the only white person in my classes? Would I be the subject of countless racial jests? Naïve questions of course, but one can never know what they would be thinking in the shadow of their first day of graduate school; much less my situation.
The dawn of that first Monday hit and my nerves had calmed down a bit. As I stepped into that muggy early morning dew, I was ready for the challenge. My first class, News Writing and Reporting went off without incident. My second featured a Skype session with our professor as she was working for the state department in D.C.
Only having one more class to knock out on Tuesday, I already felt in command of my surroundings. However, my increased sense of self confidence would return to haunt me.
As the clock hit 5:30 Tuesday afternoon, I strolled into what I thought was my Research Methods class. A few of my classmates followed with a look of confusion on their faces. “Why are we looking at a 1000-level biology syllabus,” we wondered? The location of the class had been changed to a room downstairs, so we made the trek down the hallway to our final destination.
After a few jokes by the professor about how smart graduate students REALLY are, we began the introduction portion of the inaugural meeting. The objective was to get to know your classmates better, but with only four or so journalism students in the class of 30 it was quite unnecessary.
One by one, they all stood and divulged the most boring information known to mankind: name, place of origin, college of undergraduate study, and why they came to FAMU. “Oh boy!” I thought to myself. “Here’s my chance to say something clever in a moment of monotony.”
“Hi, my name is Jonathan Lowell, I come from Panama City, and I completed my undergraduate degree in English at Florida State University…..and obviously I came to Floirda A&M for the DIVERSITY!”
Crickets……..
Oh no! What have I done?! Why did I choose this moment to make myself look like “the funny white boy who got jokes”?
I shrank back into my chair and said nothing for the duration of the period. I had done so well in making a good impression on my peers, and in one statement, may have ruined it all.
Luckily, my classmates are all adults and brushed off my flat attempt at humor. I learned to earn the respect of my peers through dedication and hard work, and to implement racial commentary sparingly.
…But if there’s one piece of advice I can impart to anyone reading this, it would be:
Save the jokes for week two!
