As graduation nears, it is time I came clean.
Out of the dark and into the light. I’m referring to blues, of course. Yep, I went to Duke.
Just so we’re clear, I won’t be using this column to declare any loyalties to one or the other. I defer to the words of the great Mark Twain: “I don’t like to commit myself about heaven and hell — you see, I have friends in both places.”
But I do want to talk about the big difference, besides my age, that existed between my Duke and UNC experience: at Duke, I never got to write.
I applied to be a columnist for Duke’s student newspaper. I sat on waitlists for creative writing classes. I submitted manuscripts to student publications. Strike my previous statement: I did plenty of writing while I was at Duke, but a whole lot of nobody was reading it.
I wasn’t a fantastic writer. I’m still not. I’m not the next Ellen Goodman. Duke didn’t miss out on discovering Anna Quindlen’s heir apparent. I just wanted to try it and I was excited by the chance to get involved and challenge myself. But I graduated from Duke without a single byline to my name.
Zoom forward a few years and I see columnist openings at The Daily Tar Heel. The same feelings — of wanting a chance and wanting to try — came over me again. And this time, I got to.
(I do keep a mental tally of pros and cons of each school. Duke may have better bonfires, but their newspaper staff? In the words of Woody Durham, “Two points for the Tar Heels!”)
Why come clean so close to the end? I tell you this because often the end of something as long and as revered as college comes with a sense of downhill momentum.
High school graduation comes with a sense of, “We did it! We’re out of here and on to the next adventure!”
College graduation comes with a sense of, “Gulp. What’s next?” And what’s next for you is … I have no idea. But maybe it involves being a 28-year-old writer for a college newspaper.
As I sat on Duke’s football field sweating in my personal terrarium of a graduation robe, I looked around at graduate professionals and even the families in the stands and I had no idea how to get from where I was to where they were.
The road on the map I’d been traveling all my life had been so thoroughly detailed and now suddenly went off the page.
I think this is where I write, “So, never give up on your dreams, kids!” And this is where you cringe at the corny antiquated optimism.
There are things you missed out on here at UNC.
You may have tried something and failed, or never tried at all, or never even thought to try.
But that doesn’t mean that you’ve missed your chance. Your UNC experience will define part of you, but not all of you, especially the parts yet to come.
I struggled often while at Duke, and not just in the writing world.
I came out of it all thinking, “If those were the best years of my life, I am in deep trouble.” Maybe you feel the same here at UNC, and, I promise you, more adventures a wait.
To those who have had the time of your life, good for you. Many adventures await you, too, and I hope that the great only gets better.
Good luck, and go … team!
Jessica Fuller is a second-year journalism graduate student from Greensboro. E-mail her at jvfuller@email.unc.edu
