I took six classes my first semester, broke my first love's heart, and spent more time underage drinking than I did studying for anything. Three Bs, three Ds, and a few hangovers later (just kidding, remember when you were 17 and hangovers were as real as the Tooth Fairy?), I was stuck with a less-than-honorable GPA and three classes to retake. That might not sound so great, but if I'd had that first semester at an out-of-state school, I would've cost my parents thousands of dollars that they didn't have in the first place. Like many teenagers, I just wasn't ready.