You will begin with full of excitement.
Days before the first day of classes, you would devote much time just imagining how it will be when you already begin your classes in college. You ask your high school classmates where they will be studying. You feel envious of some of them because they seem to have chosen better schools than the school you enrolled in. You would feel insecure. But you would brush these feelings off and convince yourself you may excel wherever you go. You secretly promise to be far better than you were when you were in high school. You promise yourself that you would prove yourself to those who underestimated you, belittled you. You would seek and expect self-redemption.
Days before the first day of classes, you would surf the internet browsing sites mentioning your school, how it fares in academics, in sports, in the arts. You would check whether any showbiz personality studied or studies there. You would feel so thrilled if you could see some of them in campus, and definitely brag about future schoolmates (who might never know you at all). You would look for information that would make you feel proud of your school even when you have yet to start your days in school, bracing yourself for probable instances of boasting among high school classmates and friends. You would not allow yourself to be belittled.
On the first day of classes, you would feel so apprehensive, nervous, but you won’t show it. You would devote time just looking at yourself in the mirror. You just have to make sure you look good. That day marks the beginning of relationships, of new friendships. That day, who knows, might already mark the beginning of forgetting old crushes and marking new ones.
On the following days, you would have fun just being with new friends. They would talk about getting bored in classes and they would talk about how flawed your teachers are, how they wouldn’t prepare, how they would come late (or not come at all).
On the following days, you would just have fun being with your friends. You would talk about getting bored in classes and you would talk about how flawed your teachers are, how they wouldn’t prepare, how they would come late (or not come at all).
The following days then, you wouldn’t prepare as well, you would come late (or not come at all).
The following days instead, you would see yourself still wearing your uniform but, instead of listening to boring lectures, you would hit billiard balls in that billiards joint nearby. Instead of faking involvement and preparations for your assignments in classes, you would definitely actively engage in playing the Defense of the Ancients with your friends. You would find satisfaction in these pleasures.
You would widen your circle of friends. You would find individuals with similar interests coming from neighbouring schools. You would feel so good with yourself. You would feel so confident that you are living what you would call the real life of a college student. You would convince yourself that not everything is learned inside the walls of the classroom. Some may be learned in regular visits to movie houses; and, absolutely, you declare, life lessons are learned in drunken conversations in bars, among strangers you would instantly call friends (and instant mentors). San Mig Light, Emperador, among others, become your favourite authors. They would seem, for you, mentors that transform you into philosophers who suddenly go through epiphanies understanding life not consistent with how your parents understand it. You declare your generation is different from theirs. Yours, you say, is a generation that must be given absolute freedom and must absolutely enjoy it.
On the day you would receive your first failing grade, you would brush it off and dismiss it as something insignificant, immaterial. You know you may do better.
On the day you would receive your second failing grade, you would prepare to defend yourself to your parents as having a teacher who treats students unfairly. You would say you regularly come to classes so there is no way that a failing grade may be justified, as if mere physical presence in classes guarantees passing subjects.
On the day you would receive the next set of failing grades, you would not see yourself hitting billiard balls or shouting in computer shops. But, on that day, you would remember San Mig Light and Emperador, hoping to receive consolation from them, hoping to be comforted by the warmth they provide. But you would finally realize it was not myth when people would say human sweat may actually feel so cold. You would understand what people would mean when they say that it feels like the world is closing in on them. You would hear music similar to the Carmina Burana seemingly announcing a grand battle with your parents. You would think of strategies to defend yourself. You would realize the Defense of the Ancients cannot be applied at this point. Walking out of the campus would feel like forever is passing. Even when you have never been familiar with it, you would hear (by some divine intervention) Mozart's Requiem Mass in D Minor accompanying your every step as if you are being led to your tomb.
Then you would suddenly become conscious of individuals sitting along streets and alleys with old typewriters in tow, offering to solve your problems. You would consider asking them to create fictional grades for you. You would learn they would know how to fake school documents. You would seriously consider employing their convenient services, just so you may avoid experiencing world war at home.
You would find reasons in your heart, and blame others, but never ever take the blame.
So, enjoy yourselves. Now it will be fun; soon, it will be life.