LRAP Student Essay
I walked in and was shocked; there were only thirty-six eyes staring at me compared to the usual 300. Relief slowed my racing heartbeat, and I realized I had been a tightly twisted playground swing, uncomfortable, ready to unravel. My professor, Dr. Nona Olivia, took roll as if that was normal in college. I had a name- a real first, middle, and last name that replaced the usual number. I became Jamie Faith Lowe, proud student of the University of Colorado. I looked around and saw the other students become more themselves, relaxed and confident. I watched their posture straighten and eyes widen as they pronounced their attendance. As class continued, we found out we had a most embarrassing moment to share, a hometown, a favorite subject, and a first memory. Emotionally, I acted like overcrowded lectures were abuse, as if answering simple questions like how many siblings I had was a luxury experienced for the first time. All it was, though, was a Libby RAP class.
Being a college freshman isn’t easy. For the first time, hot chocolate overflowing with whipped cream isn’t waiting after school on those bone-chilling winter days. For the first time, your prescriptions aren’t already refilled in the bathroom cabinet. For the first time, no one’s face lights up with recognition upon seeing yours. And for the first time, you’re ironically lonely. Yes, there are thousands of other kids in the same boat, but that doesn’t make the waves any calmer. Just because depression is a common disease, that doesn’t make it easier for those who have it. I’ll just say it. College is overwhelming, it’s scary, it’s intimidating, and at the University of Colorado-Boulder, it’s huge. That was, of course, until I registered for Writing and Rhetoric 1150.
It doesn’t matter if you choose a writing class or not. All RAP classes are small, and more importantly, they’re all personal. Opinion obviously varies between people, but I like when someone knows my name in a place where I’m otherwise anonymous. A RAP class is a break from the usual fifteen-minute walk to a congested lecture. I don’t have to sit on the steps if I’m thirty seconds late, and I certainly don’t have to strain my eyes to see the notes. All RAP classes are formatted in a circle, as inclusive as a kindergarten classroom. (Quite a bit more challenging, I must add, but inclusive all the same.) If you don’t show up to class, everyone notices. When you speak, everyone can hear you. If I have a question, public speaking phobias can’t keep me from asking. It’s also a lot easier to meet with a professor who doesn’t have 600 other students as their priority. I learn more in the smaller setting, and all my classmates live in the same building as me. If I need a study partner, I know he or she is just a close knock away.
Being part of the Libby RAP program has been more than rewarding. Undoubtedly, though, there’s one thing that's by far my favorite part. When I look at my professor, she looks back. I know that’s uncommon for a first semester freshman on a campus of 25,000 kids, which makes it that much more exciting. With one glance from her I become a person, a friend, a daughter, and a thriving student all at once. I immediately lose the “number ID as person” association. It's simple, and maybe not a necessity for everyone, but it’s wonderfully humbling all the same.
Jamie Lowe, Fall 2007