Jeff Sklar

The first days of college will likely be among the most disorienting of your life. Here you are, in many cases hundreds or even thousands of miles from home, surrounded by a community of 50,000 busy students, staff and faculty. Very few of them know you ÷ and frankly, most of them donāt care about you.

Itās an intimidating feeling. Itās especially so the first time you walk alone along the Mall at lunchtime, as thousands of people race in thousands of different directions to get to classes, meetings, work, meals and the myriad other places busy university-folk need to go.

At a large university like this one, itās easy to feel lost and insignificant amid those hordes of nameless faces. And itās easy to forget that those thousands of people you walk by each have a story, an identity, a set of characteristics that make their presence vital to the functioning of a successful university.

It seems to help make the university seem smaller and more personable to think about the people walking by, not as nameless drones or obstacles on the way to class, but as unique people, each with their own story.

Maybe, walking across campus youāll meet Cheri Blauwet, who, left unable to walk after a spinal cord injury, pushed UA to become a leader in wheelchair athletics, while winning four wheelchair racing medals herself at the 2000 Sydney Paralympics.

Maybe youāll meet Andrew Tuohy, who became UAās youngest student last year when he enrolled at age 15. Born in Alaska, Tuohy never went to high school and attended eighth grade ćjust for fun to hang out with kids my own age,ä after spending two years in community college.

Maybe youāll meet Charlie Bertsch, the assistant professor of English who moonlights as a writer for Punk Planet magazine and can often be seen dragging his three-year-old daughter around campus.

Maybe youāll meet Branden Lombardi, who overcame multiple bouts with cancer, carried the Olympic torch in Phoenix last winter and started a baseball cap distribution program to help cancer-stricken children cover their bald heads.

Maybe youāll meet Jenny Rimsza, who, as a student lobbyist, spent much of last year working to keep the state Legislature from slicing into UAās budget, despite a massive state deficit. She didnāt succeed, but her drive to protect the integrity of the university was refreshing during a time when many students werenāt even aware that UAās prestige was on the line.

Maybe youāll meet Mike Candrea, who is without a doubt the most successful coach at UA today. Under his leadership, our womenās softball team has become feared across the country, and Candrea has been rewarded for his success by being named the coach of the 2004 Olympic team.

Maybe youāll meet Veronica Loya, who at 20, would be a typical education major except for one thing ÷ sheās a Roman Catholic sister. Sister Veronica, who lives in a convent on Tucsonās north side, is by far the youngest sister in Tucson, and she hopes her devotion to God will lead others to examine their own faith.

Maybe youāll meet Jumaa Al-maskari, who, fearing racial discrimination, left UA for his home in the United Arab Emirates after the Sept. 11 attacks, but who, after being paid a visit by his spiritual leader, decided last winter to return for the spring semester.

All these people likely had one thing in common when they first set foot on the UA campus ÷ fear of the unknown. But they didnāt sit back and let that fear paralyze them; they went out and started writing their own stories. They began to distinguish themselves from the people around them, creating their own identities.

To the more than 6,000 new freshmen who will set foot on campus next month, the beginning of your student careers here will be an opportunity to begin writing your own stories and forging your own identities, that will, in their own small way ÷ maybe even a large way ÷ shape this university.

You will begin writing your own stories, just as the more than 40,000 other people who make up this university have already done.

The book is open to page one, you have the pen. Itās time to start writing.