Against Advice For Freshers

The unhelpful side of the advice we give freshers

Long ago, Zeus gave Pandora a jar containing all the world’s evils. He advised her not to open it — the whole time she was on Earth. “That’s okay. I’ll probably just farm”, she thought to herself, “there’s lots of farms down there”. So she drifted down to a new farm, a new husband, a new world. For a while, that was enough. And then she started to get curious: what did The Big Guy put in the jar? “I said I’d farm”, she thought to herself, wondering if she could pull it off, “...so, what if I farm the jar?” And with that flawless logic she opened it, and now the Earth is two degrees hotter and we have Benson Boone. So goes the least destructive story about the advice we’re given. And I mean that. 

I tell you this embellished story of Pandora because I think it about sums up my perspective on adviceforFreshers. I held this view when I was a Fresher, and have mostly been vindicated since then. I think a lot of the advice given to you, the Freshers, is intended to correct mistakes you can’t avoid. The people giving it to you think that, if they had subtracted this or that mistake from their Freshers weeks, they would have had a great time. But that’s not true. Had they failed to make those mistakes, they would’ve had an even worse time. 

I’m not sure if this is really an anti-advice stance I’m taking; I think I’m actually advocating a certain way of taking it. I’ll give you an example: when I was a Fresher, everybody was always talking about putting yourself out there. Keep your door open! Introduce yourself to everybody! Join societies! I was a bit of a recluse in high school, so I liked the idea of me doing those things. I liked the idea of it. During Freshers’ Week, I was too scared to join anything. I had my small circle of friends, and though I dreamt of a social Sam, I couldn’t quite get past my fear. It undoubtedly made my first months harder. Actually, it made my first academic year harder. I knew I’d been advised against being closed off, and so, on top of feeling lonely and worried I’d never thrive, I felt guilty — why couldn’t I have been strong enough to take all that advice? 

But you can’t take that kind of advice. You have to change first, and that takes time. If you could really listen to the advice we give you during Freshers’ Week, you’d be a third year, you’d be Pandora post-jar. But that’s not what you want — I mean, don’t you want to live the experience of receiving all that wisdom? Don’t you want to be a Fresher? 

You’ll want to know how I’d have made coming to university better. You’ll want the sage wisdom my parents gave to me on FaceTime late at night, when I was in tears. You’re going to want me to tell you what Zeus said, but why do you want to hear that when I’ve already opened the jar? Any advice I could give you about being a Fresher is advice I didn’t take — if I had, would I even know to tell you it? Wouldn’t it just be a flawless part of my character, indistinguishable from anything else in my social skillset?

There’s plenty of good advice that’s easy to take: have snacks in your room, do all your readings, and don’t get in any relationships until after the first month. But as far as the big stuff goes — the big personality arcs — it’s not your choice. I made a lot of mistakes during my Freshers’ Week: I didn’t go out as much as I could have, I didn’t keep my dorm room open, and I didn’t join any societies. I regretted some of that — but when it came time to correct those mistakes (and there will always be time), I did. And it worked, but only because I had taken the time to see what wasn’t going to work in St Andrews; the big glacier of the person I was had started to crack and move, and I hadn’t forced it — I’d gone with the flow and followed the lead. It turns out where people were saying “you should...” they were really saying “you will eventually...”. 

I left something out of Pandora’s story: she was made to open the jar. Zeus knew what she was going to do — he created her to do it — but advised her against it anyway. With any luck we can avoid the same mistake if I just give you some anti-advice: you can’t optimise your time here. The allure of trying is almost intoxicating, I know, but trying to optimise is the easiest way to drive yourself crazy. I believe in advice for life, but Freshers’ Week is one of those rare moments when your new life isn’t quite ready yet — which means all you have to do is live within your emotional means and figure out a new baseline. I can’t help you there, no one can; but with a little effort, you’ll be able to follow the lead. Wherever that takes you, that’s where you’ll be. There will always be things to improve upon, things to get better at, and once you figure out what those things are for you here — then you’ll finally be ready for some advice. 

Illustration by Sandra Palazuelos Garcia