Congratulations, freshmen! You’re no longer the babies of the Hopkins fam bam. The title of Baby Blue Jay now falls to all the newly admitted members of the Class of 2019.
According to The Hub, the Class of 2019 is the most diverse and the most competitive yet. But hey, they said that about us, too, didn’t they? These kids haven’t even committed to Hopkins yet and they’re already stealing our thunder.
Next year is going to be a completely new experience, what with living in different dorms, having a different meal plan and taking more specialized classes. But the biggest change? We’ll no longer get all the attention from the parents — I mean, from the administration and faculty.
All those RAB events we hear about, consider attending and ultimately go to one or two a semester? The special events in the FFC? Floor bonding programs planned by our doting RAs? Those won’t be for us anymore. They will belong to the whiny new babies Ronny D. brought home from the Common App.
And don’t even get me started on orientation week. Remember how much fun that week was? It was so exhausting, and we experienced information overload, but having a summer camp-esque introduction to our new school made it feel a little more like home.
But that last week of August 2015 will be devoted to the Class of 2019, the most impressive class yet. Let’s just admit it. We’re a little jealous.
We don’t get all the attention the babies get. We don’t get all the attention the seniors get, what with graduating and being 21 and all. In my unprofessional opinion, we, the Class of 2018, are suffering from an acute case of middle child syndrome.
We want to be the baby again, but that will never happen. And it’ll be another two years before we get to be the oldest. We’re stuck here in the middle, ignored.
But maybe it’s not all bad. There are some advantages to being the older sibling, you know, in theory.
Now, we get to be mentors. And it’s starting right here, this week, today, with SOHOP (Hi, visiting prefrosh who picked up a copy of The News-Letter. You should come here!). We have the wondrous opportunity to guide these wandering, young students who don’t know Bloomberg from Gilman.
Some of us will even get to experience orientation week again, this time as first-year mentors. That really is like summer camp; you’ll finally get to see the other side of things, be a counselor, learn what they do at those meetings after lights out.
Yeah, being the youngest doesn’t look so hot now.
Being a little sibling has its good side, too. For one, we never have to go into anything blind, because someone has been there before. Anywhere we turn, there is always going to be someone with words of advice or caution. For every class you’re thinking about taking, there’s an upperclassman who can tell you all about it.
The advice doesn’t end there. Upperclassmen know all sorts of things, like which restaurants have the best French toast, or which apartment building you should lease, or when UniMini mozzarella sticks taste the best. Plus, they can buy you stuff. I’m talking about fruit juice. They can buy you fruit juice when you’re too lazy to go to the store yourself.
The best perk of no longer being the baby? You are ranked just a little bit higher, priority-wise. Instead of choosing classes from what’s left over, you can pick from a larger selection of what’s left over. If you want to study abroad, you’ll get on the list before any of the new kids do. And if there’s a t-shirt giveaway in front of Levering, you’ll get there before the newbies, because you won’t need to consult a map to find your way.
Alright, being the middle child isn’t so bad after all. While we won’t ever really get over our jealousy — we used to be the best and the brightest — we’ll stand alongside our fellow Blue Jays to help them navigate the crazy academics of Johns Hopkins.
