If you would have told me five years ago that I would be this torn up writing my last ever column for the student newspaper at Texas A&M, I would have looked at you sideways.
You see, I was never supposed to get to this point for a couple of reasons.
First, I never had any real interest in going to A&M. My brother went to Ole Miss, and since he was my cool older brother, I always had plans of being a Rebel, or is it a Shark? I don’t know what the hell they’re calling themselves nowadays. Anyway, the point is that Oxford, Miss., was supposed to be my next stop upon my high school graduation, not College Station.
Nonetheless, my redass Aggie dad sat down with me and told me we couldn’t swing the out-of-state cost, and that going to Blinn for a year and then A&M was my best option.
Cue the Blinndergarten jokes.
Well, as it turns out, this story is an example of a tale as old as time when a parent really does know best.
I was never supposed to graduate high school on time, or maybe even at all. I had some very troubled days, battling depression from losing my mom to cancer and not quite understanding my relationship with my dad. So, half the time, I just never showed up to class.
This situation led to constant tearful conversations with my high school physics teacher, Mrs. Furitsch, telling me I wasn’t a f*** up and that I was more than capable of doing anything I set my mind to, no matter the circumstances.
It led to my advanced placement government teacher Mrs. Christian never judging me and instilling a love for politics and government that has led to a degree in political science, two U.S. Congressional internships and now a career in political consulting.
It also led to the attendance office hating my guts for the many forged excuse notes, but that’s beside the point!
With a boat load of support, I got my act together and managed to graduate on time. I went to Blinn my freshman year, worked my behind off, and was one of the rare cases of someone who was in and out in exactly one year. I began my sophomore year at A&M, and boy, was I welcomed with open arms.
So much changed so quickly, and my love affair with A&M started almost immediately.
From walking into one of my favorite elective classes, History of Rock and Roll, in a lecture hall with over 300 students, to being in one of my political science classes with only 25 students, I loved every second of it. Well, not my Game Theory class — if you know, you know.
Outside of the classroom, my social life thrived once I joined my fraternity, Delta Tau Delta, where I met my lifelong best friends and made personal connections I could have never dreamed of having.
I also picked up an extracurricular or two, including writing for one of the best college newspapers in the country, and the paper you’re reading right now — The Battalion. Writing for this newspaper has been one of the best parts of my college experience.
This paper gave me the opportunity to bring light to important local issues that were not getting the attention they deserved and also gave me the chance to get deeply personal and talk about issues near and dear to my heart. And, most importantly, I learned how to be the writer I always wanted to be, something I am forever grateful for learning.
To sum it up, A&M always welcomed me as I am. Yes, even when I looked like a psychopath at 2 a.m. getting kicked out of Evans Library.
Leaving shouldn’t be this hard.
I moved to College Station 4 ½ years ago knowing my time as a student was finite. However, the last couple of weeks, I’ve found myself walking on campus, whether it be to the Batt Cave for my last desk meeting or walking out of the tunnels of Kyle Field from my last football game as a student, and I was deeply sad.
I’ll miss the late-night conversations with my best friends after a night out on Northgate, and cramming the night before a test at Evans. I’ll miss the evening strolls in my neighborhood and the sacred tradition of “Frap Fridays” with my roommates from my favorite coffee shop, La Gabriella. I’ll miss tailgating and Saturdays at Kyle Field.
I could write a list of a million other things I will miss, but I think y’all get the point.
This makes me realize just how lucky I am, though. How wonderful is it to have had an experience so magnificent that it’s this hard to say goodbye?
Aggieland, I leave you with this: Thanks and Gig ‘Em — forever.
Sam Somogye is a political science senior and opinion columnist for The Battalion.