Every time I give a campus tour, my mind starts to buzz the second I put on my name tag and step toward the group. It’s a mix of excitement, pride, and, if I’m being honest, a little bit of self-consciousness. First impressions really matter to me, and that’s something I’ve carried with me into every single tour I give. Before I even say “Hi everyone, welcome to UC Berkeley,” I’m already asking myself questions that probably sound simple but mean a lot: Do I look presentable? Do I look nice? Do people notice my happy energy?
That last question sticks with me the most. As much as I want to look put together, I also want people to feel that I’m genuinely happy to be there. I want my energy to show before my words do… to let people know right away that this isn’t just a job to me, but something I truly enjoy. While tours are about listing facts about the buildings or repeating university statistics, it’s also presenting someone’s very first experience with Berkeley, as well as shaping how they’ll remember this campus long after the tour ends.
As soon as the tour begins, my internal checklist activates. I’ve memorized what topics to talk about and where, sort of like a mental map layered over the physical one. When we’re near Doe Library, I talk about academics and the tons of libraries we have on campus. When we pass Sather Gate, I bring up clubs and organizations and how you can find wonderful communities on campus. When we stop near Memorial Glade, I shift into stories about my wonderful picnics during the spring semester and avoiding the seals. Each location unlocks a different chapter in my tour script, one I’ve refined over time to balance facts with personality.
Even with all the structure, there’s still this rhythm I have to maintain. Between walking, talking, and making sure everyone stays engaged, I’m constantly timing when to take a sip of water without making it awkward. It’s funny how something so small becomes a major part of my tour routine. I’ve learned the exact moments I can drink… like when a parent asks a long question or when the group pauses to take pictures. My brain is doing a hundred tiny calculations behind the scenes while my face stays smiling and enthusiastic.
There’s also this other thought that always creeps up: I hope I don’t see any of my friends. It’s not that I’m embarrassed about the job; in fact, far from it. I love being a campus ambassador. It’s one of the things I’m most proud of. It’s just that the moment a friend spots me in the middle of a tour, I know what’s coming: the teasing, the wave, and, worst of all, the phone coming out for pictures. I can already hear them joking, “Caught you being all professional!” Part of me laughs it off, and part of me wants to hide behind my visitors. I don’t mind it completely, it’s actually kind of funny later, but in the moment, I just want to stay in tour guide mode without distractions.
Another thing that’s always on my mind is my humor. I hope people laugh at my jokes. Whether it’s a corny dad joke about the Jean Hargrove Music Library having scales and referring to musical scales or a brainrotted reference about how the Campanile is also 93.6 or 7 meters tall I slip in when I’m feeling brave, or just little sayings that make people smile… I want them to land. The laughter builds connection. It’s the moment when a group of strangers starts to feel comfortable, when the awkwardness of the first few minutes fades and everyone begins to enjoy themselves. Those tiny bursts of laughter make the tour feel alive.
Beyond the laughter, though, there’s something deeper I always hope for and that is to inspire at least one person during every tour. Sometimes that person is a nervous high school student trying to picture themselves here. Sometimes it’s a parent who’s quietly processing the fact that their kid is growing up and heading off to college. Other times it’s a younger sibling tagging along, looking up at everything in awe. I think about how maybe that younger sibling will remember this day years later and decide to chase higher education because of the spark they felt here.
When I share my Berkeley story, I try to do it with honesty. I talk about being a first-generation student, about how my parents sacrificed so much so that I could have this opportunity. I remind people that being here is more than just academics as it’s a story of resilience, of family, and of community. Sometimes I’ll catch a parent nodding or a student smiling quietly, and that’s when I know I’ve reached someone. Even if they never tell me, I can feel when something I said resonates. That’s what keeps me going through all the repetition of tour after tour.
By the time the tour ends and I’ve answered the last question, I always feel a mix of exhaustion and pride. My voice might be a little strained, my feet might be sore, but my heart feels full. I take a deep breath and think about how lucky I am to be here… to be part of something that once felt so far away from the life my parents dreamed for me. They gave up everything so that I could stand here, smiling under the California sun, telling strangers about a campus that changed my life.
As everyone walks away, I often replay the tour in my head. Did I forget to mention the bear statues? Did I answer that question about financial aid clearly? Did anyone laugh at the six seven joke? It’s a constant loop of reflection, not out of insecurity but because I care so deeply about getting it right. Each tour is a new chance to make someone fall in love with this place, the way I did.
There’s something poetic about how every tour becomes both a routine and a rediscovery. I might walk the same paths and tell the same stories, but each group makes it feel new again. Every face I see reminds me of a different part of my journey: The fear, the hope, the pride, and the gratitude that brought me here.
Well yes, every time I give a tour, I think about how I look, how I sound, whether people are laughing, and whether I’m drinking enough water. However, beneath all of that, I’m really thinking about how far I’ve come. About how a kid whose parents sacrificed everything can now share his story in the heart of UC Berkeley, hoping to inspire someone else to believe that their story matters too.
And as I put away my name tag and head home (or class erm…), tired but proud, I know that each tour is showcasing the campus, but also it’s about showing them what’s possible. And with that, that concludes my tour… Go Bears!