With the start of every new semester comes a similar routine of adjusting to new schedules and new faces. For some, this opportunity is welcomed with open arms. For others, it is a potentially scary adjustment. But for most, including me, it is a fresh opportunity to embarrass myself.
Everyone finally forgot about the time you spilled your water on yourself in your political science lecture, but just wait until you trip in front of your discussion this semester. Above all, there is no fresh opportunity for shame like introductions on the first day of class, specifically the dreaded “tell us anything about yourself” question.
A first impression is a hard thing to change, and given that we make so many first impressions at the start of a new semester, it is hard to remember what has been said about us and what has not. In college, most of our first impressions are made through canned introductions — whether on our dorm floors or in classes — and they present a unique opportunity to wow those around us.
Usually that opportunity to wow is missed, especially for me. Often, I end up stumbling through some random facts about my love of dogs, television sitcoms or romantic comedies. In the times I expand beyond the absurdly generic, I get too specific. I explain how I am allergic to raw fruits and vegetables or how I do not have an appendix. Afterward, I ask myself why I brought up my allergies and internal organs, but it is too late.
I enjoy a guided introduction — a simple statement of name, graduating year and hometown. Why make it fancy? No one came here today to learn about me. If a professor wants everyone in the class to introduce themselves, keep it short and sweet.
Sometimes, a question is relevant to the class — like what your favorite TV show is in a film and TV class, or who your favorite philosopher is in a philosophy class. But even then, I can sense a surge of panic in choosing one thing out of a group that you identify with. What does picking “Arrested Development” as my favorite television show say about me, and is my favorite philosopher Adele or Nietzsche?
This semester, one teaching assistant asked my class to put any information she should know about us on a piece of paper. It was the last of a few questions. I had no pertinent information, so I decided to write my zodiac sign as a fun factoid — big mistake.
I accidentally wrote “Aquarius” too sloppily and it was illegible. As a result, I turned in a piece of paper that looked as if I not only misspelled my own zodiac sign, but also rewrote it in childlike and perfectly shaped letters — a clear distinction from my normal half-cursive. What first impression did I just make? I was unsure, but I knew it was not the desired one.
Most self-introductions do not expand beyond interests and background information. Therefore, a professor, TA or RA should jump to the point immediately by asking more specific questions if they want to go through introductions. The possibilities on a “say anything” question are too broad, and I am sure a professor would not want someone to introduce themselves with their fear of commitment.
The scariest aspect of introducing yourself is the mystery of not knowing what will make someone immediately want to come up to you to talk, or what will make people stay as far away from you as possible. In general, most first impressions will be forgotten, but their influence will not be. What you say during the first day of class affects the rest of the semester.
Introductions can be nice at times. They are opportunities to connect by sharing interests or backgrounds, but any personal questions should be relevant and not provide too much room for creative expression.
If I missed my coffee that morning, my brain is still catching up. Why force me to think beyond what I prepared for? Introductions should be short, simple and provide a framework from first impressions — not force one onto the room all at once.
