​Frosophomore

The iconic image of over 1700 new frosh making up their class of 2-0-Fill-In-The-Blank on East Campus quad may quite possibly be one of the most significant images in our respective Duke careers. For the first time, we all become part of a community that spans across oceans and continents while also fitting almost entirely into Cameron Indoor Stadium. An acceptance letter to Duke University, while incredibly individualized in meaning and merit, is a unanimous promise for four challenging, inspiring, unparalleled years. But in my case, as a “frosophomore,” beyond being hard to pronounce, holds a wavering place in the 2-0-Fill-In-The-Blank.

Over a year ago, when I received my acceptance letter in late March, I refused to check the portal. Actually, instead of checking the portal, I cried. While many people couldn’t wait until 7 p.m., I was among the few who decided to ignore the inevitable and base my emotions around assumptions rather than facts. I wasn’t going to get in. Duh. When my mom woke me up the next morning asking why she had gotten a congratulatory “Parent of a Blue Devil” email, I was an embarrassingly stupid amount of excited. I was officially a Blue Devil, proud to be a part of the Class of 2019.

Sort of.

While I won’t explain the details of why I decided to take my spring semester off, I will explain the odd, tragic, absolutely wonderful predicament I’ve now come to find myself in. For the second time, I’ve officially declared myself a freshman at Duke University. When my dean asked me where I wanted to request housing (there’s no specified campus for fall second semester freshman), I knew she was asking a far bigger question than just where I wanted my room to be located. What she was really asking me to consider were far bigger questions than I had ever even begun to contemplate.

Suddenly, my housing assignment became a microcosm for how the rest of my college years were to be defined. Lilly or Perkins? Wilson or Brodie? West Union or Marketplace? (Well, maybe that last one is a bit obvious).

Here’s the point I’m trying to make, though the term “gap year” is no longer taboo, there’s a discrepancy in which we forget to talk about gap years and off-semesters taken during college. Regardless of the reason, there’s a social stigma revolving around the conversation while in college, as opposed to directly after high school. According to a survey of gap year students by Haigler and Nelson, the most popular reasons students take gap years are as follows: to gain a better sense of self, to gain a deeper understanding of various cultures and ways of life, and to gain skills and knowledge that will be directly applied to a career or college major.

The reasons gap years are taken seem to be universally applicable to all young adults; yet, why we focus solely on post high school years seems elementary. I don’t seek to argue against gap years directly following high school, but rather to emphasize that it’s never too late.

I am very willing to admit how biased I am when it comes to the unconventional gap year (or, in my case, semester). But from what I’ve learned, there is no way to pre-navigate your college career. The hardest decision I thought I’d ever have to make was when I left Duke. Needless to say, I was wrong, and having the courage to return to Duke and start all over again was equally as difficult. Four years from now I might say returning as a freshman was the worst decision I’ve ever made. And while that likely won’t be the case, I’ve found that prepositioning standards only messed me up unnecessarily.