Chapter Seven - Freshman Year, Part One

CHAPTER SEVEN

Freshman Year, Part One

“IT’S NOT ABOUT what you know going in, it’s about how good you are at taking it in once you’re there.”

Freshman year is weird.
You’re still figuring out how to walk the halls without looking lost, and suddenly they hand you a full schedule and expect you to just do math. Like you didn’t just spend the last three days trying to find where the rooms and floors actually connect.

But once the noise settles, you start to notice that some of the classes aren’t half bad.
And some of the teachers? They’re the reason you get through.

Let’s start with math.
Technically, I did Algebra I in 8th grade. There was this program where we took it at the high school, so I was this tiny middle school kid sitting in a room full of actual high schoolers. Definitely felt like a glitch in the system. But it worked, I guess. It made the next few years a little strange, class-wise, because I was always one step ahead. Until senior year, when everything kind of evened out.

Still, math was… cool.
Not fun, exactly. But cool.
If you like order, formulas, and the feeling of solving something clean then math hits a certain part of the brain like a reset button. It’s weirdly satisfying when it clicks. Until it doesn’t. And then it’s like trying to decode an alien language written in reverse.

Then there was biology.
And look, biology was just memorization.
That’s all it was.
Terms, diagrams, definitions, and systems. Boom. Boom. Boom.
It wasn’t my favorite class, but the teacher? Fantastic. Smart, funny, and engaging. He made the whole thing feel like it had meaning. We even watched Gattaca, which is one of those movies that sticks with you way longer than the chapter quiz does. He gave that class life, even when I was pulling Cs both semesters. Still worth it.

Next up: global history.
This one surprised me.

I thought I had history down already. You know, basic understanding, some YouTube videos, maybe a few dramatic documentaries. But then the class hit me with Enlightenment thinkers, revolutions I’d never heard of, and maps of Europe that looked like someone hit shuffle on a Risk board.

But it grew on me fast.
History, it turns out, is just puzzle pieces.
Events, places, movements, and dates all snap together. And once you get the outline, the whole picture starts to make sense. The teacher was great, too. One of those guys who could turn a war into a story and a lecture into a conversation. He made me want to be a high school history teacher, if we’re being honest.

And then there was Intro to Scripture.
Catholic school classic.
It was the first religion class I took, and honestly, it kind of flew by. Nothing too intense. Just conversations, a few assignments, and a chance to see things from different angles. I met some cool people in that class. Not super deep, not super wild. Just a good place to start. A little inkling of something interesting.

That was freshman year, part one.
The hallway felt huge. The schedule felt impossible.
But once you got through the first couple weeks, it started to feel like life.
And looking back, some of the best classes weren’t about the subject, they were about who was in the room with you when it all started to make sense.