Jessai Flores

Class of 2027, welcome! You are probably hearing this word everywhere, from your eager FroCos and blown-up blue and white banners alike. You all have already unpacked, but as I’m writing this, my suitcase is still empty. 

It’s hard to believe that a year has passed since I, myself, walked through the gates of Old Campus with starry-eyed wonder and a furiously beating heart. I remember packing my bags weeks in advance. But not this year. Now, two days before I leave, I rummaged through my Google Drive hoping to remind myself what essentials to bring. Finally, I came across a document titled “College Checklist.”

I’m met by a custom color-coded system of gold highlighted categorization. It was pieced together during frenzied late-night research across blog posts, indicating what to bring, what my roommate was already bringing, what was packed and not, what was in my Amazon cart and what might not fit in the trunk. 

Looking back at this admittedly very neurotic packing list, I can see my excitement in the bolded words, my anxiety reverberating in the italics. Maybe if I brought enough hangers and the right picnic blanket, the unknown trials and tribulations of first year would feel less daunting. 

One year later, and I’ve learned that college is about more than a memory foam mattress topper (although that definitely helps). Truthfully, I didn’t need half of what I thought I did. Instead, I would have appreciated some thoughtful advice and a comforting push in the right direction.

Let me tell you what I missed the first time around. I’m tailor-making you, first-years, a new list that covers anything you need and not a whole lot more, given that your closet-sized room will be a tight squeeze already.

Instead of just welcoming you to campus, I also offer you The Standardized Yale Survival Guide: semester one edition. To be clear, this is not the campus police union one with the grim reaper that got distributed to you upon arrival. Actually, its intent is quite the opposite. This is everything I wish I knew in your position, all in an attempt to make college seem a little less scary. 

Google Calendar

Forget all the incoming frosh you were buddy-buddy with during Bulldog days — your real best friend is your gcal. Whether or not you use the Google one specifically, an electronic calendar will save you from the classic first year blunder of double booking your dining hall meals. 

You can ensure your discussion section doesn’t overlap with club meetings. You can plan ahead for papers, projects and final exams. You can even send and receive email-invites to grab coffee or to study in Sterling through the greater yale.edu network. Organizing your life online is a must. 

General cold medicine

Anticipate illness. It doesn’t matter how healthy you think you are. You’re going to get sick. The Yague (Yale plague) does not discriminate. Your friends will get you sick and you’ll infect them back, it’s unavoidable. And it’s not going to go away quickly — sometimes you’ll be under the weather for months at a time.

I suggest preemptively picking up Advil, cough drops, Tylenol PM and anything else you think might help you get through an undiagnosable combination of coughing, stuffy nose, sore throat and feeble limbs. Rest up and recover, and thank your lucky stars you’re not stuck with COVID in Arnold Hall.

Curiosity

This is getting more and more abstract, but just work with me here. You have to want to and be willing to enjoy your college experience. The best form of satisfying healthy curiosities is posing and answering questions. An easy one is: What dining hall has the best food? And you can only formulate a valid answer by trying food at all fourteen residential colleges. And don’t forget Commons!

So go beyond just wondering what would happen if you struck up a conversation with that girl who looks like friendship material in your Psych 101 lecture. Decide from experience what on-campus publication you want to write for (wink, wink). Comfort zones are not set in stone; they’re meant to be expanded. 

Moderation
You might think this seems contradictory to the point I just made, but I think it is necessary to regulate curiosities. If you do seek out new experiences, you might end up a little overwhelmed. Amongst a sea of countless First Year seminars, interesting clubs and Red Solo cups, you might need a lifeboat.

And moderation is just that. Don’t take on more than you can handle, that will just overburden you during this exciting time of transition. Sometimes a movie night with friends is just as important as a night spent in a Lake Place backyard. If you fill your plate to the brim with activities and social engagements, you’ll be too full to enjoy it all.

I’ll finish off with the lightning round. Skip the P.O. box at the Elm Street post office and send all your mail to the Barnes and Noble package center instead. Bring a couple more fancy outfits than you expect to need, there will be a slew of formals you might want to attend. Exercise extreme caution whenever opening the washer doors in the Farnam Laundry room — sometimes the machines are inexplicably full of water. 

So be curious. Stay organized. Take time for yourself. You might just survive underclassmen-hood to welcome the next batches of first years with your own newfound wisdom.