We meet Them before They know who They are.
Before the confidence in their voices,
before the major is set with certainty,
before the friend groups settle,
and the homesickness softens into new routine.
They arrive waves of rolling suitcases
Boxes stuffed to the brim
and overpacked expectations in tow
carrying dreams stitched together
from late nights, hard choices.
And the quiet courage it takes to start over
over in a place where everything feels both exciting
and overwhelmingly new.
Schedules clutched like lifelines,
not out of fear,
but out of determination
to belong,
to make this place Their own.
Students introducing Themselves
time and time again,
voices and hands attempting to be steady,
risking awkwardness
and unfamiliar spaces
for the chance at connection.
We see Them before They know who They are.
We are there,
not in the photos They will post,
not in the stories They will tell later,
but in the quiet structure of the institution.
We witness the strength it takes
to step onto a campus
and decide,
day after day,
to stay,
to grow,
to risk.
To become what we know They can.
We help Them before They know who They are.
We carry Their uncertainty
like something fragile.
We answer the same questions a hundred times a day,
knowing the question is rarely about the program
or the schedule
or the room number.
It is about reassurance.
About permission to be unsure.
About someone steady
in the middle of so much change.
We carry Their questions.
Where do I belong?
Am I ready?
What if I fail?
It’s the student pretending They are not overwhelmed.
The student who smiles through fear.
The one who says, “I’m fine,”
and lingers just a moment longer our desk.
We carry the late-night emails,
unspoken anxieties,
and the invisible weight
of being a safe space on a campus full of transitions.
They will not remember
every moment
or every carefully planned program.
But They will remember
the feeling of being guided,
of being seen
before They fully see Themselves.
We carry their stories
before They are even written.
We watch them arrive uncertain
to this place,
to this chapter,
sometimes even to themselves.
And while they are busy
becoming who they are meant to be,
we stand at the threshold
of Their hero’s journey.
carrying Their fears,
their questions,
their potential,
until, slowly,
they no longer need us to hold so much
of who they are becoming.
We know Them after They know who They are.
Author Biography
Tyler Brown (he/him) is a Summer Start Program Coordinator at Clemson University, originally from Ottumwa, Iowa. He is a Graduate from Clemson University’ Masters of Higher Education and Student Affairs program and got his bachelor’s degree from the University of Iowa.