The University of Alabama loves flaunting its numbers — 550 National Merit and National Achievement Finalists, 10 students on USA Today’s All-American College Academic Team, 30,000 students and counting.

We all get it. Whatever they’re doing now to convince people to come here is incredibly appealing, or else it involves some sort of witchcraft or hypnotism.

But what about after that? Once you get all these starry-eyed freshmen bursting with potential, what do you do to keep them here and keep them happy after the honeymoon’s over and living on their own isn’t enough to make them content anymore?

I don’t think I’m alone in saying I’ve felt like this university as a whole has neglected me in the years I’ve been here.

That’s not to say I haven’t had some amazing professors and mentors along the way, speaking on an individual basis. I certainly know there are some talented, hard-working people here who have helped me succeed in class, internships and jobs.

Finding these people is what can be so problematic. To do so, you really have to take some initiative to become involved and get to know professors. That’s easier for outspoken people like myself, but others may not feel comfortable doing that right away, leaving them to figure their life plan out on their own. That is no easy feat when you’re an 18-year-old.

As a senior in high school, I felt I was heavily recruited by the University, recruiters regularly invited me to lunches, brunches, dessert receptions and personal tours, maybe not on the level of potential football recruits or anything, but still respectable.

That year the recruitment campaign was “You are UA” or some other individualistic drivel like that to make you feel like you aren’t going to be a number when you end up here. I find that pretty ironic, seeing as that same university seems to have set its sights on becoming its own independent nation.

Despite slogans that make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, I can’t ignore the fact that I do feel like a number.

I’ve talked to my friends who attend smaller schools about their experiences. Their academic advisers actually know their names, faces and even what classes they need to take in order to graduate (insert gasp of astonishment here).

That seems like it shouldn’t be impossible, or even difficult for that matter. Should it really be outside of the norm for a professor in my own department who has taught me in class to, God forbid, know my name? I know this is a huge burden on professors who have a formidable workload as it is, but the University could figure this out to, you know, make sure we can graduate or something.

We could just choose our own advisers who aren’t complete strangers, which is pretty much what I’ve ended up doing anyway.

Some semesters I find myself falling back on the reputable method of decision making in which I open the current course guide and sign up for whichever classes my finger lands on, hoping against hope they’re applicable to my major.

Just trying to find the right person to talk to about anything relating to academics has sunken me into a bureaucratic mire from which I’m lucky to have escaped with my sanity, let alone the sealed copy of my official transcript I so desperately needed.

So if the University wants to promote campaigns like “Crimson Is…” they should be supported with tangible actions. If “Crimson is Access,” how about giving us access to parking so we don’t miss class, advisers so we can graduate in less than six years and seats at the football games so we can show our school spirit.

They should be doing things to make each student feel important as an individual and to encourage excellence in academics and involvement. It would be a win-win situation for students and the University itself. You’d think someone would realize that contented students make contented alumni.

Kelsey Stein is the lifestyles editor of The Crimson White.