A Journey From Small-Town Life to a Campus of 25,000

My adventure with Iowa State University began long before I ever unpacked a suitcase in Larch Hall. In fact, the very first time I “visited” the campus, I barely visited it at all. It was more of a joyride with two of my brothers— Tom, and Dave — at a time in our lives when a drive across state lines counted as both exploration and entertainment. I was young, edging into adulthood, and they were all a few steps ahead of me, showing me what freedom looked like. Early in my senior year at high school I had narrowed my college choices to the University of Minnesota in the Twin Cities, Northwestern University in Evanston, IL, the University of Wisconsin in Madison, WI, Cornell University in Ithaca, NY, and Iowa State in Ames, IA. All great engineering schools. This would be my first college trip.

I met my brother Dave in Minneapolis (should have been St. Paul but I got off on the wrong stop) late Friday afternoon after taking a Greyhound bus from New Lisbon to Minnesota. Dave and I then drove down to Ft. Dodge, IA to meet another brother Tom, who worked there. I remember I35 stretching out ahead of us, the way the Midwest landscape has a rhythm of its own—cornfields rolling into small towns, small towns rolling back into cornfields again. We arrived late at Tom's apartment and called it a night because of the late hour.

When we arrived in Ames the next day, we made a half-hearted attempt to drive near campus, taking the exit and heading west on Lincoln Way toward the school. Most of the campus was located north of Lincoln Way but our car never took that right turn. The three of us were more interested in simply being together, laughing, joking, and savoring the novelty of a day trip. Before long, we ended up at a bar called "The Cave-In" on Welch Ave, and that became the real destination. We spent the entire afternoon there, and whatever impression I was supposed to draw from Iowa State that day got lost somewhere between bar stools, brotherly banter, and pitchers of beer. Still, even that casual visit planted a seed. I had at least seen Iowa State—even if through a haze of laughter and dim bar lighting.

I remember returning home and my mother asked about the trip and the campus. I replied, "Iowa State is the place for me!"

My second visit was a little more official: freshman orientation. Except it didn’t feel very official the night before because, once again, I found myself out late at a bar. This time with my brothers, Chuck and Tom. Back then, no one warned us that orientation involved anything serious—let alone an exam that would determine our math placement. So when I walked into the testing room the next morning with far less sleep (and clarity) than ideal, the surprise was real. I didn’t know what to expect, but somehow, through instinct or luck or maybe just leftover high school math, I tested well enough to land in the Calculus 101 series. At the time, it felt like a win. Little did I know calculus would later become one of my biggest academic hurdles.

My true Iowa State beginning came in September, 1977, when I officially moved in for my freshman year. Back then, you didn’t meet your roommates online or trade messages on social media. No, the university mailed you letters—actual paper letters—to tell you who you’d be living with. Because there was a housing shortage that year, they had to place three freshmen into some dorm rooms. It was a kind of rite of passage. You accepted it, shrugged, and prepared to live in close quarters with two people you had never met in your life.

I packed like someone who had no idea what college life required—because I didn’t. I stuffed clothes into a couple of suitcases and added a few personal belongings. That was it. No mini-fridge, no décor, nothing that Pinterest or TikTok today would call “dorm ready.” My mom and I loaded everything into our Ford LTD and left New Lisbon, Wisconsin, early in the morning. The drive was about 300 miles—roughly five hours straight through, or six to seven with breaks. The car was mostly quiet. I think we were both processing the meaning of the trip in our own ways. I was the last of 5 boys to leave our home. My father had passed away the year before so my mom would all alone in the house for the first time in her life.

When we arrived in Ames, the unloading went quickly. I was assigned to the fourth floor of Larch Hall, a tall brick building right across from the athletic facilities, a short walk to Jack Trice Stadium. Early on after my acceptance into Iowa State I thought about "walking on" and playing for the Cyclone football team. I had loved football my entire life and did well in high school. However this was the Big 12 and after meeting the coaches and some of my potential new teammates, I decided better of it. My house name was Cessna, and when I walked into my room for the first time, everything felt foreign: two empty beds (one single, one bunk) waiting to belong to strangers, the view out the window that looked nothing like my small hometown, and the hum of energy on the floor.

My mom didn’t stay long. That was the way things were done back then. Parents dropped you at the curb, helped get your belongings into the room, hugged you, and drove home. I walked her down to the parking lot, gave her a hug, and watched as the Ford LTD pulled away and disappeared down the road. That moment hit me harder than I expected. Suddenly the hallway behind me felt like a different planet.

The first few hours were rough. Students up and down the floor seemed to know each other already. They were calling out first names, asking about summers, talking like they were picking up exactly where they left off. I didn’t know a single soul. I was the kid from a tiny Wisconsin town of about 1,200 people, standing alone in a building full of strangers on a campus with 25,000 students. I felt about as small as a person could feel. Honestly, if my mom had turned around and come back that afternoon, I think I might have climbed into the car without hesitation.

Once classes began, the real struggle started. High school hadn’t prepared me for what was waiting for me academically. Calculus hit me like a brick wall. Chemistry wasn’t far behind. Even English demanded more than I was used to. It felt like every course came with a steep uphill climb.

I threw myself into studying. While other freshmen were out exploring, adjusting, or partying, I spent most of my time buried in textbooks. I wasn’t just trying to succeed—I was trying to survive academically. I studied all day, every day, afraid that if I fell behind even a little, I’d never catch up. It wasn’t the college experience I had imagined, but it was the one I felt forced into.

One class I still remember vividly was a Library course—literally a class on how to use the library. It might sound simple, but I treated it like a lifeline. It was pass/fail, and when I got a “pass,” I felt genuine pride. It was one of the first positive signs that maybe, just maybe, I belonged at Iowa State.

The end of the first quarter brought my first major academic shock. Iowa State was on the quarter system, and when my calculus grade came in the mail, it was a C. Not terrible by most standards—but that one C brought my overall GPA below a 3.0. Coming from a high school career filled with mostly A’s, the hit to my confidence was immediate. I remember thinking, Maybe I’m simply not cut out for this place.

Determined to understand what went wrong, I went to the professor Gregorac's office to go over my final calculus exam. We walked through several problems together, and surprisingly, we found small mistakes—places where I had earned more points than had been marked. After recalculating, he said I had been only one point away from an B.

Then he leaned back, smiled, and said, “Rubash—that’s a great name. I’m going to give you one extra point just for that.” And just like that, I went from a C to a B. That one extra point lifted my GPA to an even 3.0, but more importantly, it lifted my entire spirit. That moment changed the trajectory of my attitude toward school. I stopped feeling like an imposter and started believing I could keep up.

From that point forward, my GPA climbed each quarter for the four years I attended. The studying didn’t get easier, exactly, but I got better at it. I found routines, confidence, and my footing in the academic jungle of Iowa State.

Looking back now, that first year was one of the hardest and most formative experiences of my life. It was the moment I left behind the safety of a small-town world and stepped into something bigger, scarier, and ultimately life-changing. My Iowa State adventure began with a playful drive-by visit, stumbled through a bar-filled orientation, and hit its emotional low point during that lonely first day in Larch Hall. But it also gave me some of the earliest proof that resilience, effort, and a little encouragement can change your entire path.

I went to Iowa State unsure of myself. I left it a stronger version of who I was becoming. I would also later meet other students on the floor that would become my life-long friends, along with their spouses and family. But that will be another story. Or two....