“So where do you go to school?”
“Fairfield University.”
“Where?”
For any student who attends Fairfield, and lives outside of Connecticut’s state lines, the conversation described above is common. It usually continues with the student describing Fairfield, being sure to point out its better traits and defend the school as if it were the student’s own awkward red-headed stepchild trying to fit in with the rest of the class.
With its yearly tuition pushing $45,000 (room and board, books and other expenses included), Fairfield places itself on a lofty pedestal in the eyes of prospective students and their financially providing parents. Students who choose to spend the majority of the next four years of their life within the borders of Fairfield do so with great expectations.
Is it worth it? Yes.
Is it everything I thought it would be? Not quite.
In order to attend Fairfield, I will be tangled in a web of student loans, and will pass my summer nights serving greasy burgers and fries to ungrateful patrons. The first semester’s cancelled tuition I found in my stocking for Christmas serves as a subtle reminder of just how lucky I am.
On my first tour of Fairfield, I was mesmerized by the bombshell blonde (and brunette, for those who really think it matters) girls that seems to be the Fairfield female mold.
I spent the weekend with a friend and couldn’t believe the sense of community and friendship evident among every student I spoke with.
I partied at the beach and didn’t have to run away like Cinderella at midnight just in time to catch the 11 p.m. edition of the news. I heard appetizing descriptions of on-campus food, stories of school-sponsored events for seniors, the TWO concerts held on campus every year and the luxury of living with a basement in your townhouse.
Now, I unwillingly live on a substance-free floor and I’ll never be given the chance to share the experiences that were advertised to me as an incoming freshman.
The culinary offerings are sub-par, the basements are being locked up and FUSA blew our budget on one band that played the same three chords for the entire show.
It seems like the newest popular catchphrase on campus is, “this school used to be so much better.”
When people ask me how I like Fairfield, I usually hesitate before answering. I can’t say the level of academia at Fairfield is anything less than I expected.
I am often challenged by workload and engaged by my teachers. I have met an amazing group of people, and have been presented with opportunities to take my educational experience as far as I wanted it to go.
However, the ever-increasing Big Brother-like grip of the administration on social functions and the colonial style of under-representation for the average student holds my tongue as I am about to launch into praises about the school.
While I would never walk away from the opportunities in front of me here at Fairfield, the outrageous tuition and fables from yesteryear’s students give Fairfield an image slightly different than the reality of a Stag’s life.
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