When we last met, I informed my loyal readers that I had sworn off writing about freshmen. Their immature antics baffled me, their awkwardness confounded me, and above all else, their innocence infuriated me.
However, as two weeks passed by, I felt myself bound by an inescapable allure. I was like a shark chasing blood in the water; I needed freshmen in my life.
It was then that a thought occurred to me: Perhaps the reason that freshmen act the way they do is merely intimidation.
Since freshmen are so terrified of seniors, they lose their minds and begin to act mindless, spouting off excruciating levels of immaturity.
After all, as a senior, I am rather horrifying. I am approximately two feet and four inches taller than a fourteen year old on any given day.
In addition, my toned, well-oiled muscles could crush their tiny, wiry frames at any given moment.
Anyway, back to my experience.
In a charitable attempt to dismiss the stereotypes that prevent wonderful friendships from blossoming, I decided to traverse the school, interviewing random freshmen to help them overcome their fear of me.
First on my list was Andreas Escobar, a laid back individual who could only be described as a stud.
“I don’t have much of an opinion. I mean, [seniors] are a bit scary, and kind of big, but they’re nice. Yeah, I don’t really care.”
Alright, so my theory may have been flawed, but I still figured that it had to be true of some freshmen. As my peers say: “On to the next one.”
Matt Cessari was my next target.
“Seniors don’t really scare me. I have a sister [who is a senior], and she has a lot of senior friends, so it’s nothing new. There’s a big age gap [between freshmen and seniors], so they’re going to act a little different.”
Okay, this just wasn’t fair. He has a sister who’s a senior. That’s an absolute wild card. For research purposes, I threw him out of consideration.
Thankfully, just as I was about to pound a wall in frustration, I saw Camille Churchwell, freshman, out of the corner of my eye.
Glowering, I asked her quickly if she had any stereotypical beliefs about seniors.
“I mean, not really. They’re mature and independent. I’m not scared of them, but I don’t have senior friends or anything.”
Okay, we are extraordinarily mature, being the pinnacle of evolution and whatnot, but come on, no stereotypes?
I sat down in the middle of the hall and hung my head low. This was a humbling experience, seeing as I am never incorrect. Yet my theory had gone so tragically wrong. Just then, a single crystalline, salt-encrusted tear worked its way down my supple cheek.
I heard a voice cry out in the hall: “Why are you crying mister?” Slowly, I began to explain my plight to him.
Turns out, he was a freshman as well, named Jordan Binkermeier, and he was absolutely terrified of me.
This was because Binkermeier trembled every time he was even in the presence of seniors and even got a little nausea.
Even more fascinating, Binkermeier was extremely immature. He was spouting of crude jokes, insulting my mother, and even tried to place a whoopee cushion under my rear at some point during our interview.
It turns out the only reason Binkermeier acted immature was because of how simply terrifying big-bad seniors were.
Having proved my hypothesis exactly 100 percent right, I smiled. The world of freshmen was one I understood quite well.
The rascals were quite immature, but it was only caused by a massive amount of nervousness.
At long last, I had discovered a theory that eluded man for many generations: Why the freshman is immature.