I deserve it. I kind of like it. I kind of hate it. I’m not sure to what extent I really want it. Most unsettlingly, I’ve found myself to be somewhat inviting of it. I’m a freshman, just had my first day of classes, and lately, I’ve been on the receiving end of some pity, both warm-hearted and semi-sardonic.

Pity is an interesting emotion. It tends to be tangled up with some sense of sympathy, compassion, and/or amusement. It can be communicated or emotively displayed in various fashions: a smile, a frown, a laugh, a drawn-out “awww, poor baby,” or a quippy “you’re a freshman, huh?” It can be both nice and patronizing and everything in between.  Ultimately, a lot rides on the object of said pity and hir own interpretation of that which ze receives.

Just this afternoon I walked briskly into the Allbritton building, 15 minutes early by my watch, nervously making sure I was on time for my second class ever at Wesleyan University, the magical place where I will find fulfillment as an informed and passionate citizen of the world and as a leader of an up-and-coming generation with a new vision for a better, more just and more equal global society. It’s also a school for which my dad and I will be paying thousands of dollars.

I noticed a group of students right outside room 103, looked at them, and turned away quickly as I awkwardly passed them by. I took a peek into the classroom, which was full of somewhat attentive students listening to a professor making a very important point, and then I stepped back over to where the other students were standing near the door. We looked at each other. Apparently, they read the question mark on my face.

“Here for (insert some course name I don’t remember)…?” one of the girls asked. My face contorted to suggest even further bewilderment.  She smiled widely and asked with a certain haughty anticipation.

“Freshman?”

I let my neck bend and my head fall a little to the side as I sighed and muttered “yes” in exhausted agreement. She nearly jumped with excitement as her cohorts laughed.

“Ooh I’ll help you!”

I reached into my back pocket for the torn piece of printer paper on which I had made a little schedule as she drew closer to me to take a look. As I unfolded the paper, I realized I had simply jumped ahead and gone to my Tuesday afternoon class, instead of my Monday class at Wyllys. I explained what I had done, and everyone laughed. The same girl then asked if I needed any help to get to Wyllys.

“I think I know where it is,” I said, and asked for reassurance, “It’s right by the Usdan, right?”

They laughed and explained that it’s simply Usdan without the “the.” I corrected myself, and they encouraged me as if I were a pet dog. I played along with it and made my way out of the building.

Now, the incident wasn’t a big deal. I wasn’t really offended or anything, but I definitely found their amused pity somewhat interesting. It caused a chain of thought that ultimately led to the question: am I generally pitiable? Is uncertainty pitiable?

Now although I’ve been here at Wes for less than a week, I like to think myself very much a Wesleyan student. I may have little pulse on the unique culture here at Wes. I may have trouble finding my way around campus. I may have yet to complete one class assignment (don’t judge my prioritization skills just yet!). But I think I understand what the prototypical Wesleyan student is all about. Aside from open-mindedness, well-roundedness, a passion for learning, and a zest for a variety of activities including all sorts of sports, Wesleyan students generally share an underlying confusion. What I mean to suggest is that Wesleyan students are such Renaissance men and women, engaged in such an eclectic range of pursuits, that we do not know exactly what we most love to do, what we’re best at, what holds the best prospects for a fulfilling future.

As Wesleyan freshmen, we are in a state of limbo, on the brink of the four-year journey where we deeply hope (fingers crossed!) we can figure out who we are, what we want, and what we stand for. Our identities are essentially in the air at the present time and will be in flux for the next four years. We will have plenty of opportunities to find ourselves, fall apart, pick up the pieces, create, and reshape ourselves according to the whim of our young and fluid character. While the uncertainty may be pitiable, the boundless possibilities open to any Wesleyan freshman are enviable as well. At least I hope so.