So what kind of day is it gonna be, pumkin?”
“A great day, Daddy … a great day,” I said into the receiver.
He had called early that morning to encourage me and get me excited about my first day of college. I remember on my first day of kindergarten that I was so nervous. I didn’t want to go. Daddy had put me on top of the bathroom sink in my parents’ bathroom, and I got to help him shave.
He said, “You know what? It’s gonna be a great day today, Payton. Can you say, ‘Great day, Daddy’?”
I replied with zest, “Hmmmmm, it’s gonna be a great day!”
Through that I got encouraged. In fact, I grew up saying, “It’s gonna be a great day!” Sometime in high school, I thought it was stupid and moved away from the positive thinking. Daddy always told me that whatever you put in your mind is what’s gonna come out. I was glad to hear him pump me up, because I was nervous. Really, really nervous.
“Well, your mom sends her love.”
“Tell her I love her, too,” I responded.
“Your brother started school last week. Now he’s a junior, so he thinks he’s the big cheese around there.”
“Yeah, and he’s got a car, too. Perry is big time,” I joked. “I miss you guys, Dad.”
“I know you do, baby. But now it’s your turn to be a young woman. Remember, you just pick up that phone and call me if you need to talk.”
“Yeah, I will. ’Bye, Dad. Sell some cars for me.”
“There you go reading my mind. I’ll do it. ’Bye.”
During my senior year, my dad and I really didn’t get a chance to talk. He was into increasing sales at the automobile dealership, and I was so busy being a senior that our friendship kind of took a backseat. But over the years, we were always tight. We were tighter than my mom and I were. Not that it was a bad thing—we were just tight. He always called me his first good bullet. So silly, but I was definitely Daddy’s little girl.
It was good that he remembered my first day, and that my family wanted to wish me well. I knew that I couldn’t screw up this chance. I’d always been a good student, and I wanted to make sure that I continued that. I wasn’t just representing me alone, but my whole family was here with me. I had the responsibility of maintaining my family name.
“What should I wear?” Laurel asked as she came out of the bathroom.
“I’m not puttin’ on nothin’ special. I’m just going to class.”
“You don’t understand.”
I understood, all right. There were gonna be tons of people in our classes. First impressions are always the most important. However, I wasn’t sure if I’d see one black face all day long, so who cared what I had on? For Laurel, I could understand her dilemma: Chicks talking about one another. The same drama I faced with Blake and Shanay, but just on a much broader scale because it was gonna be way more of them.
“Maybe we should have gone to church yesterday,” Laurel said to me.
We both were so exhausted that we had slept most of the day.
“We prayed. Ain’t nothin’ we can do about it now. Look, just go put on somethin’ cute. Girl, you’ll be fine. We’ll go to church next week,” I told her.
I still didn’t understand why Laurel wasn’t as happy as she could be. Yeah, sure, Branson, her ex-high-school love, was still on her mind, but she had gotten selected for the sorority of her choice. She was an Alpha Gamma Delta, and so was Jewels. Anna, on the other hand, didn’t get into any of her three choices. I wasn’t sure which one she ended up in, but supposedly it wasn’t a real reputable one.
Jewels, trying to be all sly, approached Laurel on the side and asked Laurel to room with her and put Anna and me in a room together. Laurel declined, but I couldn’t believe Jewels would have the gall to do that. Now that Anna wasn’t in Jewels’s sorority, she wasn’t good enough to stay in her room. It was crazy to me. I was glad to hear that Laurel felt the same way, but I think that angered Jewels. She was not used to getting no for an answer. I steered clear of the chick because I didn’t want to have to hurt her. I could sense that she was an absolute brat. A girl with a lot of brains, but she played the dumb role because she thought it would get her farther. Oh, she was slick, real slick.
I was already dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. I went to the bathroom to put makeup on. Also I had to brush my teeth.
When I opened the door Jewels screamed, “Can’t you knock! Dang, Payton!”
“Can’t you lock the door! If you don’t want nobody to come in, Jewels, you need to lock the door.”
“I’ll tell you when I’m done,” she snapped back at me.
“Hurry up, Jewels. I have a nine o’clock class.”
“You can’t rush beauty. Tell her, Anna. Oh, you wouldn’t know anything about that, now would you, dear?”
I slammed the door. I could not believe she had played that girl like that. Just because she got accepted by a group that the whole school deems as “it,” she now is going to think she is “it” and is going to look at everyone as a notch below her level. Everyone but Laurel. She was trying to make Laurel into her new best friend. She must have popped into our room a thousand times the day before. “Laurel, do you want to go here? Laurel, do you want to go there? Laurel, what do you think of this dress?” I had to get up and lock her out because I got tired of seeing her fake smile intruding into my space.
While I was waiting on the bathroom, I got on my knees and prayed silently. Lord, make today special. I got knots in my stomach; take them away. I pray for all of the students You had me meet, especially Laurel. She seems to be a little jittery, too. Let the teachers be nice and somewhat easy. Let me understand their method of teaching and keep my mind focused on the task at hand. Oh, yeah, and I pray for Tad and Dakari. Be with them, too. I love You, and I thank You. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
“Laurel, tell your roommate she can go to the bathroom now,” I heard Jewels whisper to Laurel as if I were deaf.
I just simply got off my knees, walked past her, and went to the bathroom. I had to finish getting ready. Childish drama wasn’t going to upset my morning.
I held my breath as I went up the stairs in the building for my first class. I was trying to find Room 228, Psychology 101.
“Hi, Payton,” I heard a pleasant voice say.
When I looked up I saw Cammie. I hadn’t seen her in the last couple of days, even though we lived in the same dorm. I guess we’d both been busy settling in.
“Hey, girl. What class are you goin’ to?” I asked.
“Psychology.”
“Really? I am, too. What room?”
“Two-twenty-eight.”
“Oh, we’re in the same class. Girl, I thought I was going to be the lone black.”
“Me too,” she said with honesty.
We hugged and walked around the corner.
Our teacher was a strong, tall Irish man, Mr. O’Conner. The pace was definitely faster than the one I was used to back at Lucy Laney. But thanks to Cammie, I could keep up.
“During this year,” Mr. O’Conner said, “we are going to be concentrating on the mind. This won’t be the traditional psych class. We won’t just study terms and the ideas of psychology. We’ll get into the practical application. Do you know what kind of person you are? Do you know why you think the way you think?”
As I was listening to him lecture, I knew I didn’t understand myself. It was the first day of school, and I felt strange things I had never felt before. My gut was twisting and turning. Not even at my prom, graduation, and debutante ball did I experience that. Maybe Mr. O’Conner was going to help me find out why.
“All right, Cammie, I’ll talk to you later,” I said as we headed in different directions.
Deep down, I guess I wanted a best friend to replace the ones that were dear to my heart in high school. Though I didn’t know Cammie well, I wasn’t feeling that she was the one. However, I agreed that we’d hook up later, and who knew, maybe my initial thoughts would be wrong.
I was now headed to English class—literature, to be exact. I was not looking forward to it at all. In high school we did some Shakespeare, but most of the books were Toni Morrison and stuff on that line that were more cultural and relevant to our past as well as our future as African-Americans. So the whole sonnets thing was going to be new to me.
“Excuse me,” I heard over my shoulder. I wasn’t sure the person was talking to me so I kept looking forward. “Excuse me.” I turned around, and it was a redheaded girl sitting beside a brunette. They were both adorably cute.
“Are you talking to me?” I questioned, totally not thinking they were.
“Yeah. We just wanted to tell you your shoes are so cute. They look so comfortable. I’m Chrissy, and this is Megan,” the redhead said. “We were just in your psychology class. We were probably looking at your shoes more than we listened to the professor.”
I was thinking, Blake and Shanay talked about these same shoes. Two other people think they are adorable. Wow! Good thing I’m confident in my style and not trying to be swayed by the thoughts of others, or I never would have received this compliment.
“Thank you,” I said to them. “I don’t know where my mom got them, but they are very comfortable. I think they are stylish.”
“They are,” Chrissy said. “You can move back one and sit beside us if you want.”
Since the room was still filling up, and I didn’t know anyone coming in, I took them up on their offer and really enjoyed the interaction. As we waited for class to begin, we giggled and chatted. I was totally outside of my comfort zone, yet I was totally comfortable with these girls. Don’t get me wrong; we weren’t down. It wasn’t that sort of thing, but it was totally natural. And I liked that.
We weren’t really talking about much of anything—clothes, shoes, hairstyles, television shows, and trends. We liked the same things and that was cool. When I think about it, they were cool, and I was glad I didn’t let my initial barrier keep me closed into my own social circle. Talking to these strangers assured me that there were rewards for stepping outside of your own boundaries.
I understand why people never do it. Taking that first step is so hard. Who wants to fail or fall and risk being embarrassed and not having their friendship accepted or their hands shaken when they extend it? If you never try to make a new friend, you’ll never add one to your list. Chrissy and Megan taught me that lesson, and I will never forget it. It was appropriate that we were in English lit class because, for sure, you can’t judge a book by its cover.
So maybe it would be the same with the reading list that I noticed as I checked over the syllabus for the quarter. Maybe some of the stuff would bring me joy and expand my mind. That’s what it’s all about anyway. Not being the same Payton that came here. Not leaving with only a degree, but also leaving more complete than I came in.
Two days later in English literature class, Chrissy and Megan were waiting on me.
“Hey, Payton,” Megan called out.
“Hey, y’all.”
It was a warm reception. We had literature on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. Psychology was on Mondays and Wednesdays.
Our teacher, Professor Bissett, summoned us to write a one-page essay during the class period. The title was “Expectations as a Freshman at UGA.” I didn’t even know if I’d complete the assignment, because I started the paper three times before I finally got a clue as to what to say. Searching my soul, I realized I didn’t know what I expected. For so long, I had just wanted to be on my own, away from home and in college. I never gave much thought to what I wanted when I got there. Yeah, I knew my ultimate goal. But the process by which that end becomes reality, the stuff in the middle, the stuff that gets you from point A to point B, is the stuff that stumped me. What did I expect as a freshman? Did I have expectations?
My paper read:
In answering the question of what do I expect as a freshman at UGA, I am thrown for a loop. That is because maybe the thing that I am thinking about has nothing to do with why my parents sent me here. As I wrestle within, I have to be truthful and honest and say that I want to fit in. Yet, how can I fit in when even in this very room I see no one like me? I do fit in with these two strangers with whom the world would probably say I’m not a match. However, I’m like a hand in a glove with them. We talk about things that teens talk about.
I want love, and I couldn’t find it in high school, or as soon as I had it in my hand it slipped away like a baseball sometimes does in a catcher’s hand. But the ball had carried on to Georgia. Thus, I’m chasing that ball, hoping not to miss an opportunity to feel my heart beat for love. I expect to grow. There is pain, stretching of bones, and tugging of large muscles, and I don’t know if I have thought about it before now.
I expected things to be easy. I’ve only been here a week, and I realize that things are not easy at all. My dad once told me that the hardest things in life were most rewarding once you accomplish them. But what am I trying to accomplish as a freshman? Trying to just survive? Yeah, maybe that’s it. I just want to survive. I want to be an overcomer. I don’t want to go home with my tail tucked between my legs feeling ashamed that I failed or feeling like I didn’t want to be here. Yet, I want to break free of this cocoon I’m in, as I learn my way and change from a high school student to a college freshman. I just want to get my wings, be as beautiful as a butterfly, and take off.
I expect that to happen soon. What am I going to do to make it happen? I don’t know. Am I willing to do what it takes to reach that goal? Maybe. Am I on the right track? Who knows? This paper may sound confusing, but right now I am feeling so many different things that I am confused. So back to the original question, expectations of a college freshman at UGA, I expect to figure it out along the way.
I got out of my seat and noticed I was the last one in the class. I handed my paper to Professor Bissett. She said, “Well, Payton Skky, you seem to be writing rather intensely. I’m sure it’s gonna be a great read.”
Humbly I replied, “I sure hope so, Professor. I definitely wrote from the soul.”
“Do you mind if I sit here?” I said to a milk-chocolate sistah.
She appeared so sad. Though I wasn’t ecstatic, I wasn’t sad, at least not on that particular day. She didn’t want to talk. I was hungry and didn’t want to talk until I had a bite to eat. I probably looked unpolished with my table etiquette as I talked with my mouth full.
I said, “Girl, what’s wrong?”
She still didn’t respond.
“I understand,” I said. “I miss home, too. The first couple of days have been overwhelming, but I’ve been dealin’ with it. So I can understand being tired of all this. I’ve got so much homework, but I wanna go shopping and go to a party, and I wanna do so much stuff. I’m loaded down with books. So you don’t even have to say it. I feel you. I know what you’re thinking.”
“You don’t know a thing about me,” she finally blurted out hastily.
I wasn’t expecting the words she spoke.
“You’re not feeling that stuff? You’re not overwhelmed? See, you’re doin’ good,” I told her.
“No, you don’t understand. I’m not doin’ good. I wish I had your problems, not able to go shopping and not going to parties, because you gotta get a higher education. I don’t even have my high school diploma.”
Once she said that, I knew I must have not heard her right, because how could she be in college with no high school diploma?
She went on to say she was one of the cafeteria staff. She didn’t have on her white lunchroom coat, so how was I supposed to know? I wanted to ask her why she didn’t graduate, but I didn’t want to get in her business. I always had a way of thinking I could help people, but I always take them to places they don’t want to go and see my way into places that they don’t want me to see.
So I said, “I’m sorry; I’ll just eat and mind my business.”
When I turned away, she totally opened up, telling me that a year ago, she was a senior in high school, but in the early part of the year she got pregnant. Not by her boyfriend, but by some guy that she had liked all through high school who finally gave her the time of day. Not just one time, but a couple of times. He played the role to the hilt, and she was the leading lady. One day he got tired of her, but it was too late—she was already pregnant.
Immediately my mind flashed back to the time when my girlfriend Lynzi told me she thought she was pregnant. How frightening! Immediately we knew that if she had the baby she could go on to finish her degree. So many people do, but so many people drop out like this girl sitting right here beside me. If I hadn’t said no to Dakari, I might have been where she is. Though it’s not the end of the world, it’s not a great place to be.
She had serious issues, and my little drama of wanting to go here and there and not being able to because I had obligations of studying were nothing. She had obligations to a baby. At seventeen she wanted to go here and there, and should be able to, but couldn’t because she’s a mother. It made me realize I was so glad I stayed pure and followed God as opposed to following my flesh and desires. Sure, that guy made her feel good and made her feel important while he was loving on her and telling her things that she wanted to hear. The moment was right; she seized it. After that moment was over, the consequences were so great because she didn’t do it God’s way. She was still suffering from her poor choice.
“Would you mind if I asked you a question?”
“Sure, go ahead. I told you this much,” she said as she gestured for me to talk.
“Why did you drop out of school?”
“Because I was overwhelmed. I didn’t have no money to put my baby in day care. It was just me, my mom, and my two little sisters. They had to stay in school, and I couldn’t. I had already done one thing wrong with being physically involved with this guy, so I didn’t want to make another mistake. No way was I going to have an abortion. My mama had me young. What if she had made that choice to abort? I wouldn’t even be here telling you this.”
“Wow, you right!” I commented, absolutely amazed at her strength.
She continued, “So I went ahead and had my baby. Don’t get me wrong, I love my boo. I got a little boy. Girrrl, he is so cute. But it’s a lot, and I am just a kid myself. I remember my aunts trying to tell me that, and they were right. I am too young to be a mom. I’m doing good as a mom. I got a job right now, but this was not the way I wanted my life to go. I wanted it to be better than my mom’s. She had me at sixteen, and I had my baby at seventeen, which is still too young. I can’t look back at that. Before you walked over here, I was looking at all you college kids, wishing it was me. It was supposed to be me. That’s why I looked sad. What’s your name?”
“Payton.”
“Hi, Payton, I’m Drea. I wish I had your problems. So make the most of this college thang. Don’t go down the wrong track. It might be hard. It might be different, but at least you have the opportunity to make it work. Don’t blow this chance. I’m working in the cafeteria, but I’m thankful I’ve got a job. There’s nothing wrong with working in a cafeteria. My mom does that, but when you wanna be a doctor …”
“You still can be a doctor,” I cut in.
“Well, yeah, but it will be harder now.”
“And so? What does that mean? You just told me that when it gets hard, keep going. Now I’m telling you. You don’t know the stories of all the kids here. Some barely got into Georgia and some are here but wanted to go somewhere else. Some probably got a loan that will take them who knows how long to pay. Some got two ex-boyfriends here and still like both of them.”
“Girl, is that you?”
“Yeah, we’ll have to talk,” I replied as if it was a really long story.
This girl, Drea, reminded me of Dymond. Her family wasn’t from the best side of the tracks—just trying to make it from meal to meal. Doing the best they could, but good at heart. As I sat there and talked to Drea, I realized that although I was in college and she wasn’t, I was no better than her. God made both of us, and He loves both of us.
As I was feeling overwhelmed with my circumstances, I was so glad I had a God that stayed close to me when I strayed away from Him. He brought this diamond in the rough to show me that it could be worse. I was learning. I was getting better. I was feeling more than I ever had. I had let myself learn from the world around me. Here I was thinking that I knew it all. My hand was open to what God wanted to put in it. He was allowing me to meet new people, and, through Drea, He was allowing me to realize that I was experiencing new emotions.