At long last, I have come to my fourth year at UC Berkeley, and I can proudly say that I have been commuting to school since the very beginning. As a molecular and cell biology major, I have endured the rigor of all my MCB coursework (including the harrowing challenges of organic chemistry), and I have done this, since my transition from high school to university, with a surprising repose. I’m delighted with my academic accomplishments. Honestly, I am.
Yet still, the truth is that the crowning jewel of my time at Berkeley is not my success in the classroom — it is the sacrifice I made in the name of education and money. Since my freshman year, I have been taking an hour and a half journey to Berkeley by way of bike, then bus and then BART every day, rain or shine, to make it to class (mostly) on time. I know I’m not alone. About 3 to 5 percent of incoming freshmen don’t live in university housing and are, like me, also privy to these common struggles. I speak of a little- known story shared by the few who have yet to leave their childhood homes. And so it is because of its relative obscurity I feel that it’s one that needs to be told.
Let me first explain why I’m compelled to write about my experience as a commuter student. I would have you believe that what drives me is an unadulterated compassion and need to inform those in the university’s freshman class about the pros and cons of commuting, but in actuality, it’s not just that practical. I have an urge to share my thoughts because a certain conversation with my fellow students annoys me. It usually goes something like this:
Noncommuter Student: “Hey, so do you want to meet up on Saturday? I stay way up in Foothill. Bummer, right? What about you?”
Me: “Yeah, totally. I commute from Martinez. So…that might be a bit difficult.”
(A long, awkward silence lingers as I wait for it)
Non-Commuter Student: “Oh … right … really?”
Me: Really.
(End of discussion)
I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve engaged in such a conversation. And then, as if it means anything, he or she has the gall to ask, “Did you choose to commute to school?” Choose? If the student is asking whether I chose to miss out on that much esteemed, once-in -a-lifetime “college experience” — of course not. They knew the answer, but they had to ask. Commuter students understand.
I say, “No more regret.” With my selected account of what it’s like to be a Berkeley outsider, I intend to change the perception of commuting students for the many future generations that follow. I think the task of having to travel the distance to UC Berkeley should be worn like a badge of honor. So let me tell you what non-commuters don’t know.
Noncommuter students don’t know what it’s like to wake up at 6 a.m. for an 8 a.m. class and then have to wait on campus for 10 whole hours to go to another 6 p.m. class. The time between classes can be daunting. On these formidable days, I have managed to occupy myself with a job or two.
Noncommuter students don’t know about that sinking feeling that happens in the pit of the stomach when the doors to the morning Richmond train slide shut in your face a few seconds too soon. What is left to do is but wistfully tap the foot and twiddle the thumbs as you wait, cursing the arrival of the next train … in 30 minutes. Ask any student who takes BART. He or she will have these tales to tell.
Noncommuter students don’t know the limitations there are in choosing classes come Tele-BEARS time because of the inconvenience of living far from campus. I have to be extra careful to not select back-to-back classes that may be just one or two hours apart. These small gaps add up to too much idle time.
And finally — most of all — noncommuter students don’t know what it’s like to juggle the prized independence of college life with the obligations of living with parents and siblings. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy the homely comforts of freshly made meals and La-Z-Boy sofas as much as the next person, but staying at home means that there are things expected of me. That includes frequent family gatherings, curfews, pointless arguments with younger siblings and having to answer questions, a lot of questions. I still routinely have to deal with these things that many Berkeley students are glad they are without.
Now, I hope that my shameless rant has given you, the noncommuting Berkeley student, a greater appreciation for those who do not (either for financial reasons or otherwise) reside as you do — in the middle of it all. We are Berkeley’s humble wayfarers, and we are important. Yet still, if nothing else is learned, I hope that your next encounter with such a student does not needlessly ring with silence nor with that hollow question of “choice.” Instead, I think a more healthy conversation would begin like, “Yeah, from whereabouts?” or “Wow, I’m impressed!” or something to that effect.
And besides, a little sympathy goes a long way. Am I right?
Anoop Mannan is a senior at UC Berkeley.
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