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Why I chose TU (thanks to a scheming roommate)
Why did I choose to come to TU? Well, when my parents visited Tulsa, they saw the huge letters TU in the football stands. It was like a sign from providence, since my family name happens to be Tu. Seriously.
Actually, I thought I was going to end up at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville since I was in eighth grade. I remember it was the eighth grade because a girl named Jeri Riley asked me where I wanted to go to college. She was surprised that I would be willing to go to Fayetteville because she thought I could probably go anywhere I chose. But I grew up calling the Hogs (whooooooooo, pig suey!). My sister went there, and my uncle overcame the difficulties of being a refugee and graduated there. Plus, I wanted to stay close to home. Recall that 9/11 happened during my senior year, when I was pondering over my college choices. In another life, I would have only applied to U of A.
But, in this life, a guy named Howard Windrow Vernon convinced me to at least show interest in another university. He had a brother and sister who graduated from Tulsa (Ann happened to be a Marshall scholar). C’mon, Daniel, you never know. Fine, I guess it couldn’t hurt to go visit another university even though I’m 99.9 percent sure that I want to go the Arkansas. I was going to do an early decision for the Razorbacks. But on that fateful day I signed up for more info about the Golden Hurricane.
I visited Tulsa’s campus, which was much flatter than the hills of Fayetteville. The football team embodied terribleness, but the basketball team played well at that point (the reverse is currently true). The engineering school seemed to be capable enough. Coming from a small town, I liked the smaller school size compared to Arkansas. As a National Merit Finalist, Tulsa was willing to pay for all of my tuition, room and board. No questions asked, no interview or anything. All I had to do was pay for books. On the other hand, Arkansas was going to pay for me to go to school.
I mulled over this decision, and I prayed about it. While I had plenty of time to transfer down the road, I’m not the type of person who likes change. It was a one shot deal for me. If I went to Arkansas, I would have an awesome roommate in Andy and be able to cheer for the Hogs. If I went to Tulsa, I’d room with the guy who convinced me to at least take a look at Tulsa (I’d surmise this was Howard’s plan to get a good roommate all along).
During this time, I kept a journal for my psych AP class. I’d flip back and forth between the only two colleges to which I had applied. Then one day my insight clicked in. I knew if I applied early enough I could get an awesome room in LaFortune (in fact, Howard overnighted our rooming request). I’d feel much more comfortable with the smaller school, though I would have to give up Grade 13. It’d be a fresh start, and I’d be doing what I want. I’m glad that I chose Tulsa.
Okay, I’m not going to lie; with my last name, I just couldn’t resist the irony of going to TU.
Actually, I thought I was going to end up at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville since I was in eighth grade. I remember it was the eighth grade because a girl named Jeri Riley asked me where I wanted to go to college. She was surprised that I would be willing to go to Fayetteville because she thought I could probably go anywhere I chose. But I grew up calling the Hogs (whooooooooo, pig suey!). My sister went there, and my uncle overcame the difficulties of being a refugee and graduated there. Plus, I wanted to stay close to home. Recall that 9/11 happened during my senior year, when I was pondering over my college choices. In another life, I would have only applied to U of A.
But, in this life, a guy named Howard Windrow Vernon convinced me to at least show interest in another university. He had a brother and sister who graduated from Tulsa (Ann happened to be a Marshall scholar). C’mon, Daniel, you never know. Fine, I guess it couldn’t hurt to go visit another university even though I’m 99.9 percent sure that I want to go the Arkansas. I was going to do an early decision for the Razorbacks. But on that fateful day I signed up for more info about the Golden Hurricane.
I visited Tulsa’s campus, which was much flatter than the hills of Fayetteville. The football team embodied terribleness, but the basketball team played well at that point (the reverse is currently true). The engineering school seemed to be capable enough. Coming from a small town, I liked the smaller school size compared to Arkansas. As a National Merit Finalist, Tulsa was willing to pay for all of my tuition, room and board. No questions asked, no interview or anything. All I had to do was pay for books. On the other hand, Arkansas was going to pay for me to go to school.
I mulled over this decision, and I prayed about it. While I had plenty of time to transfer down the road, I’m not the type of person who likes change. It was a one shot deal for me. If I went to Arkansas, I would have an awesome roommate in Andy and be able to cheer for the Hogs. If I went to Tulsa, I’d room with the guy who convinced me to at least take a look at Tulsa (I’d surmise this was Howard’s plan to get a good roommate all along).
During this time, I kept a journal for my psych AP class. I’d flip back and forth between the only two colleges to which I had applied. Then one day my insight clicked in. I knew if I applied early enough I could get an awesome room in LaFortune (in fact, Howard overnighted our rooming request). I’d feel much more comfortable with the smaller school, though I would have to give up Grade 13. It’d be a fresh start, and I’d be doing what I want. I’m glad that I chose Tulsa.
Okay, I’m not going to lie; with my last name, I just couldn’t resist the irony of going to TU.