Although I was born in New York, I was raised in a college town in Ohio. We moved when I was only one year old after my dad was offered a position in a small country church. We lived in a small town fifteen minutes away from the center of a college town. A very liberal college town. A very loud, liberal college town that was recently awarded the position of number one party school in America. Good for them. But all this means for me is that I get to say I was raised in a college town, because Athens is where everything went on. Even though I lived fifteen minutes away, there was never a week that we didn’t foray into the larger town at least once, but usually more, for shopping, recreation, or food. It was the center of social life in that part of Athens County.
So my life always bumped into or around the college. Most children in the area were enrolled in Kids on Campus, a kind of summer day camp for young kids to walk around campus during a day packed full of exciting and rowdy pursuits. Me and my three siblings were a part of that for a few years each. Then when my dad lost his job as a pastor, a job that had seemed steady enough at first that we felt secure enough to build a home, he enrolled in the college for his PhD in History. After that I spent hours of my childhood in the car with my mom, driving circles around the buildings that he had classes in, so we could pick him up. (My father is legally blind and can’t drive.) Sometimes, if our family schedule was too screwed up, I even got to go to classes with him. I’ve been attending college since I was 9! Off and on, that is.
When I was a freshman in high school, my sister was a freshman in college. I missed my first two days of high school so I could help her unpack her life into the tiny space that colleges privilege us poor, busy young scholars. College did not appeal to me, and at this point I was still telling my parents that I wouldn’t be going. Of course, my older sister liked it right away. She loved Houghton, a tiny Christian college in a tiny town in north western New York, nine hours from home. As for me, we became closer once she was gone, and she helped me mature.
When I started my junior year of high school, my brother began his freshman year of college in a different small town, seventeen hours away from home in the center of Kansas at our mother’s alma mater. By this point I was beginning to grow up, was going to college, loved baking and speaking French, and intended to major in business and then take two years of culinary school so that I could cook on a full time basis. I also started visiting colleges myself, including Indiana Wesleyan, my sister’s college Houghton, Colorado Christian University (my first time in a plane) and another tiny college, this time in South Carolina. When I helped mother take Jon to school for his sophomore year, I also got to see a little bit of his school, Sterling, and older sister Tierzah invited me to spend spring break with her in Houghton, which I happily did. Jonathan and I grew apart during this time.
Finally, it was truly my turn. It was time to pick the right college for me. I turned down Indiana Wesleyan as soon as I left the campus. It was too busy and just a little bit too much for me. I loved Colorado Christian, but it didn’t have my new and improved major, French. Sterling didn’t have French as a major either, and I didn’t like the campus much. I already loved Houghton, probably based on all the time I spent there and how well I got to know my sister’s friends, and I was impressed with Erskine, the college in South Carolina. Both had my major, and Erskine had the added appeal of being closer to a warm part of the ocean, a cool winter, and lots of family close by, including an aunt uncle, and several cousins that I couldn’t remember meeting before. Erskine also had a major turn-off for me, though – the accents. Everyone said ‘y’all’ all the time. ‘y’all’ isn’t even a word! It annoyed me, and I was worried that if I went there I’d come back saying it. Oh, the horror!
Are you ready to hear about my decision? This is the college that I will be writing about for the next four years, so are you ready? Well, I was leaning heavily towards Houghton, and I knew that the choice was between it and Erskine, but something just didn’t feel right, so I hadn’t announced my choice yet. Christmas came and so did a mailbox full of Christmas letters. One was from my cousin who lives down here and was about her family. I chose Erskine in that moment. Maybe it was impulsive and maybe I chose it for all the wrong reasons, but just then I felt such a huge weight lift from my shoulders. I sit here now in my dorm room and wonder if I would be as happy as I am now if I had chosen Houghton. But that is a story for another day. Today is the Introduction.
I chose Erskine. I told my parents, my whole family, and the college. A lot of people said that they felt it was the right decision on my part, making me roll my eyes and wonder how they would know something like that. I started the scholarship process and we started financial aid. Then toward the end of my senior year, after I got back from spring break in France, my father told me that Houghton was cheaper and I would probably have to go there anyway. A couple thousand dollars makes all the difference when two children are in college and on is in seminary. (My sister graduated from Houghton with a degree in Psychology and is attending Gordon Conwell seminary, my dad’s seminary, for her master’s.) I stressed for a few days on this, knowing that my mom would want to let me go wherever I wanted and wherever would make me happy, and my dad would choose whichever was cheapest and I’d have no choice. Finally, I got the financial aid packages from both colleges. Erskine’s was better, and made up for the extra cost. I was set, going to Erskine to major in French.
Here was my plan: get a bachelors in French then go back home to get my masters at OU, the college a few minutes from home, because it was cheaper, and also get a degree in Teaching English to Foreign Students Abroad. I want to teach English to students in France, but now I am looking at a double major in French and English. 0.o
And so I sit here happily in my dorm, full of coffee and ready to thoroughly enjoy a beautiful day. The weather here is gorgeous, if a little more hot than what I’m used to. I’ve made a few friends, though most of them are at home right now for the weekend, everyone but my roommate, who is amazing. I survived the first full week of classes, and learned the true importance of an alarm clock. I’ve said y’all a few times but generally avoid it and haven’t developed an accent. I hope. I have been terrified to move in my super high lofted bed, and gotten used to it. I have done my laundry a few times now, always lucky enough to find an empty washer or dryer. I even wash my dishes and take out the trash sometimes. All of this on top of homework? College can’t be that hard!
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To be continued…
Well Amy, it can't be that hard can it? Just wait, you'll see!
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