It has taken me more than two years, but I have finally reached an epiphany. In my halcyon days of high school, I had a lot of dimly-formed preconceptions about the “College Experience.”

I was right about one thing: College is definitely a learning experience. But it wouldn’t matter if I were majoring in biology, business or illegal drug manufacturing, because the great majority of what I’ve learned in college has nothing to do with the classroom.

I can hear it now: “But class is important! We have to go so that we can make something of ourselves!” Now I’ll grant that class is important, because taking classes is how you get grades. Grades are good.

But the odds are favorable that anything you cover in a university course — especially a University Studies course — you’ll never see again. Consider the plight of pitiable pre-med students like myself.

We take classes like physics and organic chemistry to prepare for the MCAT, which is ostensibly a measure of our medical potential. I have known a number of physicians, and never once have I heard any of them mention a coefficient of static friction or a synthesis reaction.

This is not to say I’ve learned nothing useful in college. The most important thing I’ve learned would be study skills. I’ve learned that I don’t have any.

I learned to budget time for studying, but I also learned that I will end up spending this time at the mall.

I have also found that the library is an evil place, where the books you need will either take hours to find or have disappeared into a mysterious void. Either way, if you do your research after midnight on due dates, like so many of us, it’s enough to make you cry.

I have learned about fashion. The first month of my freshmen year, I dressed up for class.

Then, winter came. If you have not enjoyed a Lexington [Kentucky] winter, let me tell you: It sucks.

It is cold and nasty. I switched to a wardrobe of sweats and found an old, warm hunter’s orange toboggan in my closet at home.

When it’s below zero, most people really don’t care what they look like.

I’ve learned about nutrition. Contrary to popular belief, you can live on foods like chili dogs, Lucky Charms and French fries.

I’ve also found religion and I’m considering construction of a lavish shrine to caffeine, the mythological god of college students.

I’ve learned about foreign languages. Much of this has been in the science and math classes I’ve taken. Many of my teaching assistants have not exactly spoken the King’s English.

In fact, I’m not certain they were speaking any form of English at all. That’s OK, though, I’m pretty sure now that I could find work as a Pidgin English translator if my medical career falls through.

I also have found a special sympathy for teaching assistants — hiring a disgruntled, overworked student to handle a class full of other disgruntled, overworked students for slave wages sounds like a sure recipe for a psychotic incident, but they adapt much better than I would. I’m a country boy, and when I came here, I had a noticeable accent. I thought it would go away, but I suspect it has gotten worse.

Do basketball fans remember Richie Farmer and Rick Pitino trying to communicate in the days of Pitino’s Bombinos? I share Richie’s pain.

I learned that I had no clue what a real party looked like. In 1996, when the ‘Cats took the crown, I had the good fortune to be at the intersection of Euclid and Woodland, the epicenter of the post-game celebration.

Never before in my life had I seen complete strangers slapping high fives, exposing themselves publicly and consuming large quantities of alcohol. It blew my mind.

In 1997, after the loss to Arizona, I had the bad sense to be in the same place again. Never before had I felt like my life was in such peril.

I stood amidst the drunken chaos until I caught a flying beer bottle, still half-full, squarely between my shoulder blades. That was enough for me. I spent hours cleaning beer off my shoes both years, but I treasure the memories.

Finally, I’ve learned about priorities. I sleep too little and worry too much, but I’m still managing to have a blast.

The moral? Don’t neglect your classes. But don’t neglect to save some time for the other lessons college can teach.

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Jarrett Greer is a columnist for The Kentucky Kernel at the University of Kentucky in Lexington.