Living on the Moon, When Everyone Else Does Too

Eastern has a lot of people now. Lots of faces to remember, lots of names to memorize and lots of bodies to stand in line behind at the DC. At times it’s overwhelming, and I chose to eat ramen by myself in my room rather than make my way through the crowd to get a pasta bowl from Ranger. 

But most of the time it’s exciting. I can have a bad morning, but get greeted by at least 20 people on my way to class. Or I can sit in the lobby of my building and a small gathering of my brand new friends join me. I’m not used to the abundance of people, but not for the same reason as other Eastern students. 

I am a transfer student. I spent the first three years of my college career in a nearby but very different school. Now I’m spending my senior year here, surrounded by ponds, parking problems and people. 

My previous school was a vastly different environment. In the last year of being there, the campus was almost empty. Enrollment dropped significantly, and under 200 people lived on-campus by May. To put it in perspective, Sparrowk Residence Hall can hold around 180 students if every bed is occupied. So if you crammed the population of my previous school into Sparrowk, you’d only have to turn a few triples into quads in order to uncomfortably fit everyone in there. 

Calling the state of my previous campus a ghost town is cliché, but not inaccurate. Encountering another person while walking to class was not common. And eating meals alone, even in the cafeteria, was expected. This wasn’t all that bad. I consider myself an introvert at heart.

The weird thing is, I should be used to a crowded school, despite my preference for fewer people. My elementary school was a relatively small neighborhood school, which was filled every year. There were 2-3 classes for every grade from kindergarten to eighth grade, and each class had around 30 people. 

High school had even more people. I remember being told my freshman class was one of the largest. We started with close to 800 students and about 650 other students graduated alongside me. The total number of students fluctuated, but lingered around 2,400. Walking through the hallways was a nightmare. It was like walking through Manhattan during Christmas. Lots of people, lots of rushing and lots of accidental pushing. Waiting in the line for lunch would take up the entire period, and most likely meant you would not be able to eat. Thankfully, most teachers encouraged us to bring snacks, or even lunch for the students who were unlucky enough to have a lunch period in the middle of the day. 

I was born in Philadelphia, and stayed in the city until I graduated high school. That was the extent of the world I lived in for the first 18 years of my life. Then the time came to go to college. 

Although I didn’t travel that far, leaving for college felt like leaving for a lunar colony. The original college I chose was small and not too far from my world, like the moon. The woods around the campus kept me isolated from the rest of the universe (mostly because I did not have a car, so leaving was a hassle). The other inhabitants of this little colony made the transition from living on earth to moon bearable. At first, there were a lot more students. 

I used to wake up early to register for next semester’s classes immediately after registration opened. The classes I needed to take would fill if I didn’t. There was a time where the cafeteria would be packed. This left no option but to sit with people I only knew because we took that poetry class together. The theatrical productions used to be sold out every performance because so many people were clamoring for tickets. 

It took one message from Mission Control to change everything. Once the news of our lunar colony was broadcasted, the inhabitants started making their way back to earth. Some even went to other planets, choosing to continue their college education at institutions far away. 

I decided to stay until the end. I watched as the colony grew smaller and smaller. Locations I once tried to avoid because of the hordes of students were walkable again. My classes grew smaller and more intimate (mostly due to the fact they were also the only people I saw outside of class). 

Now I’m at Eastern, which feels like a lunar colony on the other side of the moon—the brighter side. Despite my desire for solitude and isolation, I can’t help but enjoy knowing I’m surrounded by people. People with whom I can learn. People I can eat meals with. People that say hi to me, which was the thing I missed the most.