Students' and Parents' Experiences
Coping with a New Life
The days leading up to Andrew´s first week at Sheffield were spent, by me, furiously scribbling last-minute lists, packing and re-packing, and by him, sleeping late and watching TV. This was probably the biggest event in his eighteen-year life so far, but I was the one worrying. How would he cope living alone and away from home for the first time? At least I didn´t have to teach him to cook, thanks to the saving grace of securing last-minute accommodation in a Hall of Residence with catered meals.
On the Saturday morning we drove over – a quick run from Leeds. He slept in the car, a bag of clothes as a pillow, not by choice, but because so many of the bags that I´d packed wouldn´t fit in the boot (some were jettisoned on the driveway before we left, to my frustration and his total ambivalence). When we arrived we were amazed at the number of students: it seemed as if everyone was moving in on the same day. Despite the numbers, there were several helpers milling about to help with the suitcases and bags and show us to the room. Somehow, although we had apparently doubled the weight of the car, Andrew had fewer bags than everybody else. I stopped fretting about packing too much. It wasn´t until we had dumped the bags – now looking inadequate – in his room and Andrew was poking about opening drawers and cupboards that the day´s importance seemed to sink in for him. I helped him unpack a few bags and then left, following everyone´s advice to leave early, so he could hopefully get to know a few of the people down his corridor. As quite a shy, nervous lad, I was worried that in such an intense, hectic social environment – particularly that infamous first week – he might withdraw. I had terrible pictures in my mind of him locking himself away in his room for the first few days, unwilling to meet anyone. It was hard to keep from ringing him every five minutes. But he had made me promise not to call for the first week. Looking back, I can see why this was important to him. Part of the appeal of University life for the majority of the students must be the independence and maturity that it brings. Had I been constantly checking up on him, I might have taken away the novelty of that.
Still, the first week dragged, as friends and colleagues with kids the same age told me how theirs were getting on. Why weren´t they obeying this rule of no contact? They´d all settled in, made friends and were generally having a brilliant time. That Saturday, I rang his mobile, half-expecting a tearful voice asking to be brought home. When he picked up though, I could barely hear his voice above the background noise. I eventually ascertained that he was out for a drink with the lads, everything was good, and he´d ring me later. It was such a relief, just to hear that he was happy and had made a few mates, to know that I´d been worrying about nothing. Now I hear from him every week, but he still hasn´t been back for a weekend. He says there´s too much going on in Sheffield, and he doesn´t want to miss out on anything.
Brian Borrett