Life And Times Of A Bloody Fresher
Dear esteemed readers,
It feels just like yesterday when I penned my first article as a freshman. So, how do you cover? What a joke I was!
Medical school has humbled me.
I've seen how difficult it is to be consistent. No matter how hard you try to stay on top of things, you're always one topic behind. To cover is not just a buzzword, it is a desperate prayer. So, yes, I get it now.
And still, the label sticks—bloody fresher.
Stalites, stale elites of medical school, who themselves have had their garments soiled with the blood of naivety labeled me bloody. When I make mistakes because of my ignorance, they scoff, squeeze their faces, and spit out the phrase, bloody fresher. They often forget their days of little beginnings, when they were just like me. Some haven’t even realized they’re still as bloody as I am and will carry their bloodiness for a long, long time.
Unlike the University of Ibadan proper, where you are a freshman just once, medical school inducts you into the Freshman Club over and over again. Depending on your course, you get initiated three or even four times: once as a UI fresher, again as a preclinical freshman, then as a clinical freshman, and if you're a dental student— brace yourself, you will bleed again.
So yes, I’m a bloody fresher. Again. And so?
Fresh, is a word that stuck with me right after graduating from secondary school. I was a fresh graduate with no clue what life had in store for me. I walked through countless JAMB tutorials, A-level classes, UTMEs, and post-UTME lessons. I even had a music dream. I applied for a music degree at a university outside Nigeria. I still receive emails from them, promising a 50% discount if I'm still interested. If I had chased that dream, maybe this freshman wouldn’t be here, typing away on an old engine I call my desktop computer.
When I finally became a bona fide student of this institution, the First and the Best, I used the word fresh again. But I had embraced its comparative and superlative forms: FRESH. FRESHER. FRESHEST. I scribbled it at the back of my Chemistry 156 notebook: “I look fresh, they think I’m a fresher, but I’m the freshest.” I gave up on music, but music never gave up on me. That was the beginning of my trials at the University of Ibadan.
But maybe that's the point of being bloody. To stumble, to learn, to cry and rise, to laugh, and do it all over again. So, here I am, a freshman (bloody fresher) for the third time in my academic journey.
And maybe... that's okay.
K
It feels just like yesterday when I penned my first article as a freshman. So, how do you cover? What a joke I was!
I made fun of my seniors. I, in all my wide-eyed ignorance, attempted to teach them how to manage time amidst the trials and tribulations of examination shege. I, who was found guilty of being bloody, now confess to grievous sins of gullibility.
Medical school has humbled me.
I've seen how difficult it is to be consistent. No matter how hard you try to stay on top of things, you're always one topic behind. To cover is not just a buzzword, it is a desperate prayer. So, yes, I get it now.
And still, the label sticks—bloody fresher.
Stalites, stale elites of medical school, who themselves have had their garments soiled with the blood of naivety labeled me bloody. When I make mistakes because of my ignorance, they scoff, squeeze their faces, and spit out the phrase, bloody fresher. They often forget their days of little beginnings, when they were just like me. Some haven’t even realized they’re still as bloody as I am and will carry their bloodiness for a long, long time.
Unlike the University of Ibadan proper, where you are a freshman just once, medical school inducts you into the Freshman Club over and over again. Depending on your course, you get initiated three or even four times: once as a UI fresher, again as a preclinical freshman, then as a clinical freshman, and if you're a dental student— brace yourself, you will bleed again.
So yes, I’m a bloody fresher. Again. And so?
Fresh, is a word that stuck with me right after graduating from secondary school. I was a fresh graduate with no clue what life had in store for me. I walked through countless JAMB tutorials, A-level classes, UTMEs, and post-UTME lessons. I even had a music dream. I applied for a music degree at a university outside Nigeria. I still receive emails from them, promising a 50% discount if I'm still interested. If I had chased that dream, maybe this freshman wouldn’t be here, typing away on an old engine I call my desktop computer.
When I finally became a bona fide student of this institution, the First and the Best, I used the word fresh again. But I had embraced its comparative and superlative forms: FRESH. FRESHER. FRESHEST. I scribbled it at the back of my Chemistry 156 notebook: “I look fresh, they think I’m a fresher, but I’m the freshest.” I gave up on music, but music never gave up on me. That was the beginning of my trials at the University of Ibadan.
But maybe that's the point of being bloody. To stumble, to learn, to cry and rise, to laugh, and do it all over again. So, here I am, a freshman (bloody fresher) for the third time in my academic journey.
And maybe... that's okay.
K
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