FeaturesAugust 29, 2006
Staying inside the lines
In the beginning, my school days introduced me to a world of fuchsias, robin's egg blues and burnt siennas. The names of these colors were a bit puzzling to a 5-year-old, but I knew Snuffleupagus could handle a burnt sienna if I found my brown crayon had been eaten...
In the beginning, my school days introduced me to a world of fuchsias, robin's egg blues and burnt siennas. The names of these colors were a bit puzzling to a 5-year-old, but I knew Snuffleupagus could handle a burnt sienna if I found my brown crayon had been eaten.
After grade school, coloring had become more mature and precise. Instead of big, chunky crayons, we had to settle for colored pencils. Geometrical shapes. Maps of different countries. All this grown-up coloring grew quite tedious, and every once in a while, I would reminisce of purple pizzazz skies and razzmatazz grass.
When the alarm clock awoke me to my first day as a junior at Southeast Missouri State University, I filled my bag with large books and paper.
Colors were a thing of the past, so I braced myself for the black and white text that would guide me into the successful future I hoped for.
Monday, Aug. 21
1:30 p.m. -- My reporting class was fairly small and was taught by a former journalist who told us that if we were nice, she'd "tell us about the head in the trashcan."
She called roll and asked for Samuel DeReign. I told her Sam was fine.
Rule 1: Always tell the professor what you prefer to be called. The only way I will ever prefer the name Samuel is if I become a billionaire and take up croquet.
During her opening lecture, she compared reporting to prostitution.
"You get paid to spend time with people who you really don't feel like talking to. Sometimes they don't feel like talking to you either. But you get the job done and get out."
I made a mental note of this comparison and categorized it in the sad-but-true lobes of my brain. I will never forget those words.
Rule 2: Write down things that intrigue you, even if it's not going to be on an exam. Statements like the one my professor made don't come around every day. You may come upon it later and just think, "Wow."
6:30 p.m. -- My night class took place at the Sikeston Area Higher Education Center. It was called Drugs and Behavior and was going to focus on the effects of substance abuse. We were going to learn how the towns we live in are most likely infested with meth users and people who will do whatever it takes -- even kill -- for the high they're seeking.
But first we had to introduce ourselves.
We were to take an object we had with us and tell the class how we thought it represented ourselves.
It seemed everyone had something witty to say. A tidal wave of cleverness splashed everyone, and what used to be a class was now an audience at a comedy club.
Then it was my turn.
Since I had nothing with me but the required materials, I took my pen and casually stood up. Something funny had to come out of my mouth. It just HAD to.
"My name is Sam DeReign. Um, I'm a journalism major and I have this pen because I like to write sometimes. I have a column in a newspaper, so that's fun."
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The class looked at me, and somewhere on the floor below us, I heard someone sneeze.
After we finish, the professor stands up and says that "it feels so much better to know you as people." I wrote that down.
Rule #3: For future reference, always have an introduction prepared.
Professors usually ask what makes you a unique being, what your hobbies are, why you're taking their class. And for the latter question, it's best not to say, "Because I have to."
Tuesday, August 22
9:30 a.m. -- When I come into History of American Mass Media, we're given orange index cards and a syllabus. After we sit, the professor says her hips are too big to make it down the narrow aisles so we all part like the Red Sea.
Of course, I forgot to bring a pen. The guy sitting next to me looks like a pen-kind-of-guy so I ask him for one. It also turns out he's a mumbler. And the thick-framed glasses he wears makes the mumbling even more unsettling. I assume the pen I'm writing with has been stuck in some facial orifice at one point or another. Oh well -- at least I had a pen.
Rule #4: Befriend people quickly. If nothing else, make acquaintances who you can call or rely on for help in case you find yourself missing a class or two. This has come in handy for me numerous times through my college career, and it certainly doesn't hurt if it's a good-looking girl.
Before we leave, we're asked to take the tangerine index card (orange got old fast) and write down our name, major and something that makes us unique.
My name was Sam DeReign. I'm majoring in journalism. I write a column and it's fun.
11:45 a.m. -- I take advantage of my student discount and grab a burger and fries at Hardee's for a little more than $3.
Rule #5: Do NOT take advantage of your student discount like this all the time. If you do, you will gain your freshman 15, your sophomore 30, and your junior 45. Try to keep the fast food to a minimum. Grab a salad at the University Center or eat a protein bar. Hey, it may not be good, but it's better than lugging those extra pounds across campus.
12:30 p.m. -- Small Press Publishing, my final class of the day, is empty except for one girl sitting in the corner. She's wearing headphones and reading a book -- two international signs for "leave me alone." Two more girls come in, sit down, and turn their cell phones off in unison.
Robots of the 21st century wear pink sorority shirts and spray themselves tan.
I borrow another pen and learn that Mexican women couldn't publish books under their own name until 1964. Up until that year, they had to use their husband's name for it to be printed. Sad but true.
My experience at Southeast is halfway over with, and the idea of having a career is somewhat overwhelming, even a little depressing at times. We're born. We'll die. And somewhere in between those two extremes, you start making rules for yourself. It's comforting to know that you still have a little control over some aspects of your life.
So when magenta becomes red and shamrock is just green, you can tell yourself it's all just a part of getting older. Or you can make a new rule saying you're never too old for crayons.
I think I'll write that one down.
Sam DeReign is a student at Southeast Missouri State University. Contact him at sdereign@semissourian.com.
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