Great English Essay About My First Day At College

My First Day At College was so beautiful and memorable day of my life.I would like to share my first day College experience in this article.

Great English Essay About My First Day At College

College Premises With Its Lofty Pillars Surprised Me

it was on a wet day in July at about to a.m. that I went for the first time to my college. Accustomed to the unostentatious school building of a remote village, the college-premises with its lofty pillars, long flights of stairs and array of oil paintings filled me with an agreeable surprise. If the building was so grand and solemn, what must be the nature of the? men who taught there, I thought in my boyish fancy. As I entered; the gloom of the place oppressed me. Where had tied the open sunshine and the free air of my native village? But bent upon finding everything good in that new centre of learning, I soon got reconciled to this gloom.

Library With Its Spacious Hall

As I entered the library on the right, the site was simply staggering. On all sides of a spacious hall, lofty admirals reaching to the very ceiling and filled with glittering volumes caught my sight. What do they with so many books here? I remembered ;hat in my school , some boys once approached the headmaster with a written jr for the purchase of some books. Adjusting his spectacles on the of his nose he went through their application and then holding up head high with infinite surprise and pity in his looks, he asked “Have you read all the books in the library?” “No sir,” a boy humbly, replied “Then go, read them first and then will be purchased more ks”, was the grave reply. Thus taught the economic use of the library, I could easily conclude from the number of books here, that the professors must be prodigiously learned. I was going to put one or two questions to a student standing there, but the sight of a man with the gravity of Nestor, who seemed to have never laughed in his life, filed me with fear and 1 slipped away. I learnt later on that he was the librarian and he purposely assumed this look to scare away boys so hut they might not disturb him with their request to lend them books.

If You Are Wondering How I Make  My First Day At College Rock? Read My College Experience Carefully

Laboratory With Long Rows of Cupboards

A signboard in front of me announced that the hall on the left was the laboratory. Long rows of cupboards; with phials containing liquids and solids of different colours revealed to my vision the wonders of science about which i heard so much but knew so little. A desire to read the science a rose in my mind but the die was cast, and nay desire remained unfulfilled for ever. I stood in silent admiration, out my reverie was soon broken.

A Professor With A Beautiful Voice

A gong announced the time for going to the lecture room. 1 entered the classroom and saw a seething mass of human heads and pin drop silence prevailing there. The students were on the tiptop of expectation. 1 dared not exchange a single word even with one ol my class-mates. A few minutes after, a gentleman of medium height, a professor whose: name was known to me only by three initial letters B.K.B. entered the room and up rose the students to salute him. He returned the salute smilingly and sat down on.a chair. The taking of rolls being over, he began to address us in a beautiful voice which kept ne charmed for nearly an hour. How to read, the necessity of looking after our health and of maintaining discipline in the class-room formed the subject matter of his address. He spoke easily and fluently and his address was interwoven with bright sallies of wit which set the whole house on laughter. When he went away after an hour, my fear was to a great extent abated. After all, a professor was not the terrible being which the grand building and the innumerable volumes in the library suggested !

 Then came the professor of Arabic—an elderly gentleman of jovial appearance. The class had now become thinner, for those who had not taken up that subject had already left the room and I pushed up to occupy a front-seat. He spoke neither of discipline nor of health, but went straight to dwell on the importance of knowing grammar well. Tired of our Moulvi dissertation on grammar in school, I had  thought that as soon, as I would enter college I would escape that infliction. And great was my disappointment with the professor when his first address to us was on that very grammar. Coming events cast their shadows before, and no doubt was left in my mind that this grammar-business would spell my ruin. It has been said that if you scratch a Russian you get a Tartar, it is no less true that if you scratch a professor of Arabic, the Moulvi comes out of him—the Moulvi who devoted with pleasure thirty years of his life and yet hunkered after it.

The history class was to be held in another room and there was a rush at that direction as soon as the bell was rung. In my zeal to occupy a good place I collided with alleviated servant, stumbled and there was on the point of being trampled down. The professor of history,’ a round, massive and grave figure, followed by a bearer carrying a map
and seven thick volumes, came with a majestic air and nodded. We stood up. “Here was the man for whom the library was meant”, I thought within myself. He alone answered my idea of a professor. Grave in his looks, stentorian in his voice, he thundered on, though the subject matter was nothing else than the books which we should read.
He held before us with perfect ease, each volume, dwelt on its merits and defects in three or four sentences, flourished it once more before the admiring students and draped it on the table with a thud. This process went on seven times and the unkind bell put a stop to his operations. The map was not used and I could not understand why it was brought. I was simply overpowered with his voice.

Multifarious College Activities

The bell rang, I rushed out of the classroom to have my tiffin. The memory of the school-days was still too fresh with me to forget that after the third period came the welcome tiffin-hour. I searched hither and thither for the sweetmeat-vendor, but could not find any one. I was thinking of waiting for the vendors, when, to my painful surprise. I found the boys going back to the class-rooms. “Is the tiffin hour over”. I asked a senior student. He laughed and said “There is no tiffin-hour here.” I was disappointed, but again tried to reconcile myself to the situation by thinking that perhaps the heavy intellectual fare of a college leaves no appetite for any other food. But this gave me little consolation as I was really hungry. I sauntered back to the lecture-room, but was too hungry to listen attentively to any more lectures. The gloom of the place and the rattling of cars over the stony street only aggravated my sense of discomfort and I wished eagerly for this period to end. The honest zeal of the professor of mathematics made very little impression on a famished soul. Fortunately, the hour was soon over and I came out to go to my hostel.

The Power Of My First Day At College

The hostel where I had come a few days before was no doubt cleaner and more comfortable than my village home, but the absence of human touch was felt in everything. It was huge machine, going on with clock-like regularity, but how could human soul, a living organism find its satisfaction in a machine? I got the food, but the mother’s hand not touched it,nor her voice sweetened it. The food choked me and warm tears trickled down my face. My room-mate, a senior student, took me to task for being sentimental. I was ashamed and controlled myself.

After tiffin an irresistible desire to run and jump and shout in an open field came on me and with great hesitation I asked my roommate where the play ground was. “Three miles from this place. You can’t hope to got there every day. Once a week is sufficient”, he said quietly, and then added “Come to the common room, we shall play Ping-pong”. I mechanically repeated the world Ping-pong and blankly stared at him He laughed and asked me to accompany him down-stairs. As we are going to enter a hall the hard sound of some thing striking against a wooden plank greeted my ears and I found round a square board four men engaged in striking some wooden circles and fourteen eagerly watching the game. I was taken to a green table and a solid but small bat and a transparent white ball were handed over to me. This was the mysterious ping-pong. I was much pained to find that the green sward of my native village and the big football had been transformed here into a small green table and a tiny ball. In this great town where the road are broad, the buildings are spacious and the people talk big, 1 was surprised to find my football reduced to the size of an egg.

Conclusion Now What I Feel After Two years

Two years have passed and I have now become wiser and sadder. Boyish fancies no more trouble me. Neither the lofty building, nor the big library surprise me any more. The rattling pf cars has ceased to disturb me, nor do I any more associate the gloom of the college with sacredness. I no more rush out of the class in the tiffin hour, nor do I feel the absence of a mother’s touch in the hostel-food. Gone is my appetite, gone is my such-censored sentiment, gone is my rustic wonder.

Leave a Comment