Do you suffer from homesickness? Are you leaving behind a beloved pet upon coming to college? No worries! Stockton University has decided that a miniscule goldfish is the proper replacement for a dog or a cat, and hundreds of students came to pick up their new dorm fish in the Campus Center!
All sarcasm aside, Stockton had to utilize a significant amount of consideration in order to even think of giving us this opportunity. Having a dorm pet made college living less lonely. It gave us simultaneous responsibility and partnership with an animal that – though it’s no dog – we have the opportunity to love. The event itself involved a massive tank filled with hundreds – maybe a thousand – goldfish. We got to catch the goldfish ourselves in a small net, and we were able to design the tanks however we wanted.
Through this we gained responsibility that only owning a pet would entail.

The Stockton Honors College took a day trip to Philadelphia early in the 2016 school year to see a political satire. We loaded the bus at an ungodly hour for a weekend morning, and we set off.
Upon arriving at the theater, we noticed a two main things: the interior design was quaint enough to have been put together by my grandparents, and we were the only attendants under the age of 65 by the looks of the audience. By these observations, we initially concluded that this time would be interesting at the least.
Despite our preconceived notions, the political satire was enjoyable for our age group as well as the older age group. The actors and actresses showcased the possibilities of each candidate taking the presidential election, and they incorporated impersonations of modern public figures. They made a point to engage the audience and used dry humor and sarcasm to keep us interested. Traveling to Philadelphia was a small price to pay for a good quality political satire.

In October of 2016, Stockton held a suicide awareness walk, during which participants walked from Lakeside Lodge to the Campus Center. Though it was a phenomenal event, and it served its purpose at raising awareness, I’m not writing about the walk itself, because I did not attend.
The walk started at 6 o’clock, and I was just returning from a Philly trip with the honors college. At around 6:40, I received a call from my close friend, Michelle. Unable to decipher her words in between her sobs, I asked for her location and ran to that point. She had been attending the suicide walk, and her memories had flooded in to haunt her at the worst time possible. In the middle of the suicide walk, Michelle broke down in my arms and shared a story about her cousin who, at a young age, took his own life.
The festivities the walk entailed were no match for Michelle’s emotional breakdown, and why should they be? No amount of activity and loud noises can remedy the heartbreak caused by losing a loved one, especially by such means.
The suicide walk benefited me even though I didn’t attend. It gave me insight into the mind of someone who is now one of my best friends. I would not have achieved that level of our friendship by any other means. Stockton University’s main goal of the suicide walk was to raise awareness of a global problem that is too often overlooked. Well, it surely affected me in the best way possible.

I have great news – I made Student Ambassadors!
I also have not-so-great news – I lost my voice the morning of my first day on the job.
I woke up at 7 AM, ready to be the most enthusiastic new ambassador at the open house. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, put on my black polo and dress pants, and shook out the nerves. After a final check of my reflection in the mirror, I turned to mutter a goodbye to my half-asleep roommate.
No sound escaped my mouth.
I froze in disbelief and sprinted across the hall into the bathroom. I tried to speak into the mirror. “Hi, my name is Destiny! Welcome to Stockton!” But what came out of my mouth sounded like the rustling of the dead leaves I crush on my Sunday long runs. I whipped out my phone and proceeded to wake up every single current ambassador whose number I had saved. I received the same advice from almost every single one – don’t lead a trolley tour. That sounds easy enough, right?
Except that, upon arrival at the open house, I find out my job is to lead a trolley tour for the day. With no voice, I was in charge of grabbing the microphone and talking over a roaring engine about the wonderful sights to be seen around Stockton.
Thankfully, my mentor for the day took charge and led the tours for me, allowing me a minute each ride to whisper into the mic my name, my major, and a brief apology for not being able to say as much as I’d wanted. Admittedly, I was relieved that I had enough of a voice to even say that, but I have so many needless facts to spill about Stockton that it physically pained me to stay quiet for 15 minute intervals.
So, if you are ever wondering what not to do the night before a trolley tour: DO NOT listen to the first Hannah Montana album on blast and scream-sing the words. It will royally hinder your chances at spewing your eternal knowledge of Stockton facts to your captive audience.

In mid-September, Stockton University invited a lecturer to come in and lead a dialogue session on genocide. Being a school that prides itself on its plethora of resources on the topic of genocide, Stockton had many interested students.
It was one of the first dialogue sessions of the year, and so as expected there were many genocide studies students who expressed their interest by going up to the lecturer before he spoke to share common likes and dislikes. I, the Health Sciences major, of course had no idea where to start when it came to genocide studies. Like most others, I’d touched on the Holocaust in grammar school and have since then rarely thought of the topic.
Ignorantly so, I thought the lecture would be solely about the Holocaust, because that was the only act of genocide I knew existed. It turns out, there have been multiple attempts at mass elimination of specific populations over time. I also learned that concentration camps weren’t the only methods used to enact genocide. Most importantly, I learned that, when going to watch a scholar giving a passionate lecture, wearing running clothes is not the best choice to make. It is a small school; the lecturer will see you.
I rushed out of the room as soon as the lecture ended without congratulating the lecturer on his insightful talk, and surely without getting my participation paper signed for honors. I wish I had worn something worthier of that man’s advanced knowledge. I also wish I could tell him that he did an amazing job, and that – I’m sorry – I cannot for the life of me remember his name because all I could think about was the fact that my hooded sweatshirt stood out like a sore thumb in a sea of blazers and polos.
I highly encourage you, good readers, to attend as many holocaust-related dialogue sessions as you can, because you will learn so much more than you had already known. However, please, for your sake and the sake of your self-confidence, dress like you are at a college lecture, not like you’re going to run a marathon.

Kate Volpe nearly singlehandedly put together one of the best organized and most underrated 5ks I have ever taken part in. This, coming from a cross country runner, means that out of over a hundred organized 5ks, Run Run Rudolph lies in my top five. Allow me to explain.
Teachers assign groups to tackle case studies, which mainly involve sitting on a couch and delving into the depths of the reliable sites on the internet to find out things about a patient you’ll never actually come into contact with. This, theoretically, can be tackled by one singular person. Sure, it would take copious amounts of time, but it is not impossible for an individual to do. Organizing a 5k takes a multitude of people. Kate Volpe not only set up a course, but she also called news stations, reached out to runners, publicized the run, and recruited volunteers nearly all on her own.
We volunteers woke up earlier than ever before, and we enthusiastically blasted Christmas music while decorating the TRLC. We took every opportunity to hang lights in various places and wear Christmas hats or reindeer antlers. If the weather had been a tad colder, I definitely would have sported my Grinch onesie. The runners were hyped up and excited not only to run but also to experience some of the holiday festivities before Thanksgiving even happened.
Kate Volpe engineered a well thought out, impressive honors event that should have received much more recognition than it did. I fully endorse the Christmas 5k for the 2017 school year!

Normally, when told to wear business casual attire, one would not expect to be taking part in a game show, let alone Family Feud. However, the board of the Student Ambassadors here at Stockton decided that applicant activities are best kept secret until the morning of. So, nearly one hundred well-dressed young adults culminated in the academic spine to give their best impressions.
All of us eccentric prospective student ambassadors recited facts from our sheets to each other. We blurted out sporadic fun facts about our beloved school while trying our best to be personable.
Did you know that Stockton has 18 Division 3 sports teams?
There wasn’t one student in that fish bowl of a room that I wouldn’t have pegged as perfect for the job. We stood up in teams of 5 and gave our best impressions of actual student ambassadors giving tours. Our equally attention-catching personalities demanded recognition as we tried to shout answers over the Family Feud theme song.
Did you know our mascot’s name is Talon?
It didn’t feel as if we were competing for a limited number of spots. The event felt relaxed, only slightly competitive, and friendly. I did not feel judged by the board, even though judging us was literally their job for the day. Rather, I felt supported by everyone in the room, including those I was technically competing against. When we engaged in rapid fire trivia, those who got those impossible questions correct were rewarded with surprised cheers, and those who, like most others, answered incorrectly were rewarded equally for exhibiting the courage to stand up and try.
Did you know we currently have 6,965 undergraduate students?
Family Feud was probably the best fit activity for prospective ambassadors. This, coming from someone who normally detests game shows, means a lot. I guarantee that both those who made the final cut and those who did not had an equally great time participating.

Let me start by saying that applying for Stockton University’s Student Ambassadors program was the most nerve racking and yet rewarding decision I have ever made.
The final round of cuts was upon us, and how else would the board decide who was fit for the ocean than to throw them into the shark tank? Despite the comparison, the open house was nothing to worry about, even though a majority of us applicants had stayed up substantially late rehearsing potential conversations in our heads and practicing our welcoming expressions in the communal bathrooms. Each applicant was assigned to two ambassadors for the day, who would take us in shifts and show us the ropes before letting us take the reins.
My first ambassador and I took charge of welcoming people in the Big Blue gym, which excited me to no end. Wooing adults with a sugar sweet voice and a winning smile was easy, but being able to have actual conversations with potential Stockton students was a challenge all in itself. I dealt with high school students and transfers of all mindsets, some of whom were dead set on coming to this school and some who claimed their parents forced them to be here. No matter what, I greeted every family with equal enthusiasm. I couldn’t wait to share my love for this school with everyone I met. I was even able to help recommend a few prospective athletes to our wonderful athletic program.
I spent a majority of my day doing what I love to do – talk to people. I talked parents’ ears off while giving room tours, and I couldn’t get enough questions about my life here at Stockton from those I gave a campus tour to. I ended the day with a sore throat, cotton mouth, and a few new friends. My name and cell phone number circulated from tour group to tour group as I exchanged information with parents who wanted to know more about our school, as if I had not divulged everything I knew already.
I wish everyone had the opportunity to work an open house. The experience was emotionally exhausting, but so worth it.

I am sitting in the library next to my best friend as she types aggressively on a lap top that is bigger than her torso, remembering just how we crossed paths. If I had to recount a specific point in time where I looked at Millie and reflected on her significance in my future, I would say honors orientation brought this insane young adult into my life. So, before you rip up the invitation to attend this mass convocation of fellow bookworms and library goers, here’s why honors orientation benefited my college life.
Icebreakers are nobody’s favorite things. I can’t express in politically acceptable words how I feel about organized group activities, and if I have to hear the word “ships” or “sailors” one more time within the next decade it will be too soon. However, the time spent on our own was what really changed my perspective on the honors college.
I’ll be brutally honest; I’d made too many judgments toward the others in the honors college. I’d assumed that I wouldn’t get along with anyone who deemed themselves as “honors kids,” and I chose to live outside of the honors living community. I’d written off an entire group of people, only to realize that these human beings collectively made up my ideal crowd. I despise pool, but I played more games of pool with strangers that night than I had ever played in my 18 years of life. I have no hand-eye coordination, but the many hours spent barefoot on the volleyball court were the best hours I’d spent on any school grounds.
And Millie – my dear fellow eccentric – her presence at honors orientation did so many great things that she will never know. Her willingness to drop everything and engage in impulsive athletic feats struck me immediately. I have never met someone who is so much like the person I strive to be.
Honors orientation has not only given me many great friends – and quite an impressive shot at pool – but it has also given me a confidant, running buddy, study partner, and impulsive-index-card-maker all in one body.
Do not think twice about going to honors orientation. It’s not what the OLs plan that will excite you the most; it’s the bonds you form in those precious hours between organized games of charades and Irish dancing that will impact you in the long run.

Upon watching our last girl cross the line, I broke down into tears and whispered, “We did it.”
Rewind.
Sidelined by a patellar stress fracture, I took on the both physically emotionally demanding position as a spectator at our cross country conference meet. I watched our girls team start at the gun, and immediately they were off, our top athletes leading and pacing the front group while our other girls held down the back. The Stockton Ospreys tattoos on their faces and ribbons in their hair didn’t do them justice; these girls were more motivated now than they had ever been.
I saw the pain in their eyes as the lactic acid built up and made their muscles sear, but they kept pushing. I watched them conquer the open field, running off rolled ankles galore. As the front pack became visible in the open field, conquering their final 800 meters of the race, the race became a test of strength. The first 5,000 meters of a 6k are a test of mental toughness more than anything. The last 1k is dominated by the runner who feels her legs exploding beneath her and decides that, yes, she can take more. Our top two hang on to each other until the moment they cross the finish line, followed by a gap, and then our third and fourth girls. Five, gap…Six, gap…Seven. Stockton uniforms were blurred by the rainbow of other runners. Our last girl finished, and the tears started flowing.
Truthfully, I couldn’t even identify the real reason why I was crying. I had no idea what our score was, and I didn’t have the patience to add up our runners’ places myself. Regardless, I broke into a dead sprint, despite my aching knee, toward the finish line 400 meters away. I toppled onto my exhausted teammates, sharing tears and sweaty hugs with them before helping them to their overworked feet.
My mind was racing, probably faster than the girls had raced that day. Did we just win NJACS? Did we make Stockton history?
The scores were added up, and sure enough, Stockton University women won NJACS. My team and I shed tears of joy and pride, and we quite literally ran off into the sunset.