Illustration by Bryan Rollins
Way back in 2004, as my firstborn daughter was preparing to enter kindergarten, I wrote a piece for Memphis magazine called “Being New.” I was “the new kid” in school no fewer than eight times as a child, so I hoped to help sweet Sofia adapt to her new academic life by drawing on my own experience. (She’s a rising senior at Wesleyan University. She crushed it.)
Next month, our family’s nest will empty as Sofia’s sister, Elena, heads up the river a bit to Saint Louis University. I recently found myself looking over those tips for new kids, for adapting to a new world of sorts, and they seem to apply as well for entering college as they did for leaving preschool. Here they are, with revised interpretations 16 years in the making.
Listen . . . first and always. There will be plenty of time to talk about yourself, your family, your own interests and tastes. But if you’re out to make friends — if you’re out to be a member of society and not merely a visitor — listen. This is the most elementary step to acclimating yourself to a new environment and new people. Pay attention to the interests and views of others.
Human instinct is to project your own influence. “I am here. See me.” A more noble and endearing behavior is to absorb: sights, sounds, rules, protocol, even emotion. The idea is not to conform, but to gather. The human mind is a sponge, not a projector. I’ve seen children — from age 5 to 17 — display this better than many adults.
Ask questions, lots of questions. This is sort of a corollary to the previous tip. At every one of the new schools I attended (those I can remember), I fielded more questions than I could answer. Where did you come from? What’s with the accent? Do you play basketball? (I was a tall kid.) Where’s Torino?
The best way to remove yourself from the freshman-year equivalent of a witness stand is to ask back. Where are you from? Toasted ravioli? Favorite team: Cardinals or Blues?
My travels infused me with curiosity, to the point I have more interest in others’ stories than in retelling my own. There’s simply more to learn in hearing about someone else’s adventures. This can be a disarming quality to present for the first time . . . and earn you a friend for life.
Be easy to smile. There’s no quicker way to make a friend — be it freshman year at college or a corporate retreat — than flashing the pearly whites. I never had a first day of school that I wasn’t sweaty-palm nervous, often tongue-tied with anxiety. But I could always smile. And without fail, I found a partner for lunchtime, a playmate for recess. A handshake — alas, when safe — is a wonderful icebreaker, but from the cradle to the senior center a smile says, “let’s be friends.” My daughters, by the way, could melt a glacier with their smiles.
Remember who you are. I received very few “words to live by” as I bounced from one school to the next, but these are four — from my father — I’ve carried with me. Like the best advice from the wisest of the wise, they transcend in their simplicity.
There will be uncomfortable moments for a college freshman. Elena is also sure to experience triumphs that elevate her spirit in ways her family — or hometown friends — might not. But through the highs and lows, if there’s one thing I’d ask a certain “new kid” to always remind herself, it would be that she is one of a kind, in the grandest sense. That she brings something special and profoundly unique to each one of her days. Furthermore, that when she achieves greatness, her parents and sister are here to celebrate with her, however many miles rest between us. And when she stumbles, we’ll always be here to catch her, to help her regain footing.
The one place you are never “new” is at home. It’s the place where you can behave (and dream) in ways your classmates — and later, your colleagues — might not understand. It’s the place where you build your personality print, a multilayered identity that makes you worth listening to, worth smiling at, worth embracing. If you can retain the values of your personality print — as the new kid or a seasoned veteran — you’ll manage to offer those around you something they couldn’t find anywhere else on the planet: yourself. There’s simply no greater gift you can give.