Well-rounded nerdiness

I generally look back at my college experience as unequivocably positive. From the beginning, I kept a good circle of friends. The members of it changed over time, but it has always been a supportive, fun group of people. I achieved marked success as a student leader and won an award (earning a massive 50 cent raise) at my on-campus job. Academically, I always maintained a solid GPA (in fact missing graduating with honors by a fraction of a point, which I blame on a pair of sinister study abroad professors and will perhaps complain about some other time). College was very, very good to me.

Despite this, I find that I have some regrets. As I was watching the Terps win national championships and familiarizing myself with the College Park bar scene, I forgot to be intellectually curious. Reading, something I loved growing up, became a rare chore and studying, something I did the night before a big exam. Every semester, I picked classes that I knew were easy, assuring myself that I would like them for this reason, no matter if the topic was boring. Even in interesting classes, I expended minimal effort. And year after year, I got A's and learned little.

This has not particularly hurt my career, but, in retrospect, it damages my sense of self-worth. My friend Maggie recently told me about her visit with a professor - comparing thoughts on politics, current events, and books they'd read. He obviously thought highly of her as a student and now respects her as an intelligent adult- on some levels, a peer.

I'm envious of this relationship both because it sounds rewarding to discuss the world with someone brilliant and because I used to have that rapport with my teachers as well. In high school, I was an engaged student. I would participate often in class and occasionally ate lunch with my Spanish teacher. They recognized my maturity and intellectual curiosity and treated me differently because of it.

In college, I allowed this to fade. It would be easy to blame this on large lecture classes, but that's not the cause. I took two seminar classes with the same professor that Maggie visited. Like her, I think he's brilliant and would love to talk to him and pick his brain. But he probably doesn't remember my name. And it's because I didn't prepare for class by reading, never had anything meaningful to contribute to group discussions, and regularly raced out of the room once class was over, never staying to chat or visiting office hours.

Granted, I was usually leaving class to go to a club meeting or hang out with my friends- all things that I really enjoyed about my time at Maryland. The value of the leadership skills I developed and the friendships I made in college is boundless. My memories are roundly positive. But as I get older and more entrenched in life as a "grown up," I'm starting to regret lost opportunities like this.

Which is partially why I now try to read about as regularly as anything else and educate myself about both current events and history, since they're so frequently connected. When I hear of an old name or event in the news that I recognize but know nothing about, I make a note to look it up on wikipedia. Kind of lame, yes. But I feel better for trying again.