By Aashna Sharma (she/her)

There’s a party on your block for all the new neighbours.

You see it go through the motions. There are those who arrive early, eager and awkward and full of anticipation. The hosts themselves are there to welcome you, hoping to get the introductions out of the way so they can to the good part as quickly as possible. 

There are the fashionably late, perfectly on time, perfectly in the mood, and ready to get the whole thing going. Friends are made, jokes cracked, vomit cleaned — it’s a night to remember. The party-goers prepare to stumble home in the early hours, warm from beer, conversation and company.

But, just then, a small set of new party hopefuls arrive, ready to get the party started. Those on their way stare at them in polite confusion, shake their heads, and wish them a great time before leaving them with the remaining snacks. Forlorn, but still full of hope, the new-party goers try to get their own party started.

Don’t worry, that’s not what it’s like being a January intake student. Being a January intake is like arriving three days after that second party is over.

You see, in the cast of campus life, there is a hierarchy of freshers. There are, of course, the honours’ September intakes, the crown jewel of the play. There are then the master’s September intake kids who play second leads, and the exchange students who are character actors with small but pivotal roles. But, somewhere along the outer edges of the barrel’s bottom, lies the January intake kids – understudies to the understudy.

No one quite knows what to do with us, that is, if they even know we exist. For other students, we’re like unicorns in the wild — new and interesting for a hot moment, before they see us as just horses with horns and want to stay far away because they have assignments to complete and jobs to do. You see, when we arrive to join the cohort of September freshies, the friendships have already been forged, the routines established, and the favourite haunts decided. Anyone who is able to breach that threshold is a hero among us, because, let’s face it – every January intake dreams of making a September intake friend.

Meanwhile, the faculty has their own gripes with us. Having to explain the syllabus and year ahead for a second time in three months in the middle of classes and assignment grading would get on anyone’s nerves, as if it wasn’t bad enough the first time around. Oh look, it’s another question about when Spring break will begin!

Look, we get it. We’re an anomaly. A glitch in the matrix. Who arrives at school at the height of winter anyway? What is January but the beginning of a normal calendar year. It’s a hard sell. But, let me tell you a secret. January intakes are a goldmine. A possible secret weapon in the arsenal of people you have in your life. You see, we have the gift of gullibility, a wide-eyed wonder that can make you see your boring campus life in a whole new light. Experience the same things from three months ago, but do them with us and they feel fresh and exciting again. A Union building? What’s that? A cafe and a bar? And it’s got pool tables? Take us to your favourite spots on campus and be entertained as you watch us losing our minds over the contents of the vending machine. Our excitement is infectious. Let it spread to you. 

The bottom line? If you’re a January intake — don’t lose hope. Worst case scenario, you’ll just have to pretend to be a September trooper. Abandon your tribe and go over to the enemy side! Don’t worry, it’s easy to pretend to have been here for three months; all you have to do is suppress any hint of excitement and look unimpressed with it all. Oh, and wear a confused expression when you see other January intakes.

If you’re not a January intake: See someone looking lost? Ask them when they got here to confirm your suspicions. If they say the dreaded words, take them in, adopt them, give them a hug and a cup of coffee (or two) and tell them it’ll all be fine by the time the next group of freshies arrive — it’s only about seven months away.