I’ll come out and say it: I chose my college for the money. The place had its perks — a stellar journalism program, a picturesque campus — but it was a far cry from my dream school. The enticing financial aid package they offered made up my mind. “You’ll love it here,” my parents assured me. Looking around at the beaming faces of my fellow freshmen the first day of school, my stomach churned with uncertainty. These kids looked a lot like the people I didn’t like at my high school: Coach bags, Lacoste alligators on every chest, blond highlights zebra-streaking the girls’ hair, the guys hiding behind mirrored Ray Bans. And me? I made my own purses out of duct tape, bought my clothes at Macy’s on sale and dyed my hair burgundy some months, tomato-red others.