In the fall of 2003 I started my first semester at UVM. In the past months I had decided not to return to Villanova, lost my older brother, met a girl, started dating, and moved into her apartment. I had spent the summer almost exclusively in her company, getting drunk and stoned with my high school friends, home for the summer. A group of us seemed to spend almost every night at her apartment, first on King Street and then on Colchester Ave. We were all 19 and back living with our parents after a year of freedom. She was 21 with her own place, about to start her senior year.

I'm not sure what I expected as classes started. Overnight all of my friends went back to college, and I was faced with 18 credits of engineering classes amongst a sea of strangers. 

I think I tried to treat my schoolwork the way I had at Villanova: go through the motions and lean on what you already know. I had gone to class, but it always seemed like a drag. I had spent all of my time socializing.

I started off strong in a few of my classes: Calc 3, and a structural engineering class that was essentially advanced geometry/trigonometry. But others felt like a foreign language from the start, (electromagnetism and what?!) and before long I was drowning.

I felt lost. I felt lonely. I felt like a loser. I was never particularly good at meeting people. I didn't know how to go about it. The transition from a summer without responsibility back to the real world was too much for my immature little relationship. I had one person to talk to, to unload on, to hold me as I cried myself to sleep. It was too much. She cut me loose.

Now I had another thing to mope around about. I had just about stopped going to classes and was back living at home. This was around Thanksgiving. I don't even know what I did the rest of the semester. I was living with my parents and working at their restaurant, but I certainly wasn't going to class and they certainly didn't know it. 

As a couple of months passed my overwhelming sadness became more difficult to ignore. What I really needed was to take a step back, talk to someone about all of this and figure out how to approach this new chapter. 

I didn't attend any of my exams. I was way past that. I think I knew that eventually the shit would hit the fan, but I didn't care. What was going to happen? Now I know the answer to that question is simple: you get kicked out of school. At the time I'm not sure that I knew. I know that I didn't care.

I don't remember the day I got my final grades. Did my parents find out that I had wasted a semester of tuition? Yeah, I guess they did. I remember bits and pieces. When I got my grades, included was a letter detailing the School of Engineering and Mathematics' academic policy. I think students had to maintain a 2.0 to remain in good academic standing, i.e. not get booted out. I hadn't passed anything. In my mind, I was out. 

I told my parents I didn't want to go to college. I bitched and moaned and kicked my feet and eventually resigned to writing a letter of appeal. I was requested to show up in person to state my case, but instead I wrote a letter.

They (whoever they is) read my letter and had me come in to meet them. I don't remember where I sat down with them, or who they were, or even how many. I think there were three, and I know they were to decide my future at UVM. The meeting consisted of my reading the letter, which they produced for me, in person. 

I am thankful that I wrote the letter. It was over 1,000 words, (I can't believe I still have it) and was both more thorough and more genuine than I would have been otherwise. I cried as I read my letter. I wasn't playing it up for the show; I most definitely was not capable of fake crying. After I finished we had a short discussion, part of which was informing me that the School of Engineering and Mathematics allowed students to withdraw from classes at any point throughout the semester, without affecting their transcript. Had I spoken with my advisor, or really anyone, I would've known this, they informed me. My letter also informed of my intention to change my major, and not knowing what else to choose, I decided on the School of Business Administration. 

We set up a plan for the next semester that included sessions with a psychiatrist (psychologist, therapist, who knows?) on campus, and a spot in the dorms to help me feel like less of an outsider. They also set me up with a freshman business schedule that turned out to be the ticket to a 4.0. 

I never did thank them. I've thought about that more recently. They could've kicked me to the curb. I don't know what I would've done. It likely would've taken me a while to get my shit together and start to move in another direction. I am beyond fascinated that three people with whom I spent under an hour, could have such an impact on my life. I'd still like to thank them.

I never did see that psychiatrist.