It’s not really a secret that the school I attend also happens to be the place my father is employed. He’s not just an employee though, he’s an administrator. Dear ole dad happens to be a Dean at my university. Throughout my first year, this has had its ups and downs.
On move-in day in August, videographers came in to film Meredith and me as we unpacked our things. (We have since made an appearance on the school’s website. #famous) At our Medallion Ceremony and New Student Convocation, my dad gave me my medallion. That part was pretty great. I attended the annual College Democrats vs. College Republicans Debate, where I was asked to lead the Pledge of Allegiance. A friend, sitting beside me, leaned over and said “They only asked you to do it because of what your last name is.” That moment stung a little bit. Then there was the time that someone remarked that I got invited to participate in a special Leadership class because my dad’s a “big deal.” Once, when asked to serve on a council for my department, there were similar sentiments shared. It always startles me. To me, this is my life. It’s not weird that I know people’s secretaries on a first-name basis or that professors remark on the first day of class that they remember the day I was born. For me, it’s not weird.
I recently applied for a program at my school that required a couple of recommendation letters. I asked two people who know me very well on an academic and servant-leadership level from my high school to serve as references, and one professor from college I’ve had this whole year. Each of the letters contained incredibly kind words that made my eyes tear up a little bit and my heart giggle (Emily term) too. It means a lot to me when people can say such positive things about my character and my scholastics… especially that college professor.
Today, at the beginning of class, said professor asked me to stay after class, because he needed to talk to me about something. I was startled and I wracked my brain–I didn’t think there was anything I’d done or hadn’t done, and I had no clue why in the world he needed to talk to me. When I went up to him after class, he told me he just wanted me to know that it had been a pleasure to recommend me to the program, though it made him sad that I wouldn’t be participating in his department’s similar program. He told me that over the years he has taught a variety of students, including administrators’ children, and that he wanted me to know that the recommendation he provided for me had nothing to do with my last name and everything to do with my character and my abilities.
It might seem silly, but to me, it meant the world. At school, people know who I am. People know who my parents are. I am watched on a consistent basis and I’m held to a higher standard both by myself and by others. Today meant so much to me, because it was clear that this was a Sarah thing, not a Roberson thing.
Redheaded Dreams 