When I was a freshman, I thought being a college student was something pretty cool. Now I’m just wondering when I can go back to being a real person.

It’s impossible to escape. Ever since I was 17 or 18, I’ve noticed that people treat me, indeed most of us, in a different way. In turn, we act out all the expectations that society has for us.

I’ve been particularly in tune to these differences since I moved into my apartment this year. My apartment is an isolated rental property, surrounded by real, wholesome American families.

One of the first mornings I was there, I was awakened by the sound of children playing outside. I thought to myself what a wonderful sound it was to wake up to; it was like I was in a Norman Rockwell painting.

I wanted to join the children at play. I searched for my baseball glove, but unfortunately it was buried under a pile of empty beer bottles and porn.

Later on that same day, my roommate and I were out enjoying a summer’s twilight on our porch, when our neighbors came out to introduce themselves.

“What a friendly gesture,” I thought to myself. I was part of a caring neighborhood. After all, it takes a village.

Unfortunately, the reason for the introduction was so our neighbors could inform us that if we made too much noise they’d call our landlord and the cops.

Needless to say, I was outraged. After all, we’d only been moved in for a few days and hadn’t caused any problems. But simply because we were college students, it was assumed that we would be loud, drunken slobs.

That is the stereotype for college students. So what do we do to fight it? As I alluded to before, we seem to adopt society’s expectations of us. We become “college students.” Perhaps an example is in order.

I spent the majority of my formative years here in Ames. So I had plenty of experiences with that unholy beast, the college student.

I always promised myself that I would never become a loud, obscene college guy. I was annoyed when I’d go out to dinner with my family and some greasy putz in sweat pants and a “Big Johnson” T-shirt would be cussing a blue streak in front of my little sisters.

Where did they get off exposing my sisters to that kind of profanity? That was my job, damnit.

But now that I’m in school, I catch myself doing exactly the same thing. I’ll be standing in a crowded line at Wendy’s and realize too late that it wasn’t the appropriate place for my joke about anal prison rape.

I turn around and see horrified parents throwing themselves in front of their children like human shields. Why is it so easy to forget that certain things are inappropriate in the real world?

I don’t think I’m alone in this feeling of isolation from society. True, we may be part of a campus community, but it’s hard to be part of much else while going to school.

At best, our campus community is only a reasonable simulation of real life.

We’re in a strange position in the world: We’re not children, but we’re not adults. We’re at college because we’re in training to become productive members of society.

Here we get to play dress-up for the careers we think we want to pursue. I’m pretending I’m a newspaper columnist; later I’m going to pretend I’m a sociologist. This evening I’m going to pretend I’m a woman named Vera … but that’s off the subject.

The challenge that’s posed to us is to be a part of the university community without losing contact with the rest of the world. Theoretically, they’re who we’re planning to work with.

Avoiding isolation can be daunting. Our little burrow provides us almost everything we need to survive. You could really lead a fairly happy life never leaving the campustown area.

Which many people do. I think we all know a 37-year-old undergraduate who is scared to death of re-joining the real world. I’m always frightened by these people because I understand how easy it is to become comfortable in this little world. The university community can be a warm blanket to keep out the cold of reality.

We need to keep our eyes on the ocean while we’re in the fish tank.

Just because we’re training ourselves for a new role in society doesn’t mean that we don’t have a role in society now. Even if that role is of the drunken scourge of humanity, it’s important that we maintain contact with all the real people. Otherwise, we’ll just float away like … I don’t know … poop or something.

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Ben Godar is a junior in sociology from Ames.