The real reason that I’m not only at Kenyon but in college at all isn’t to take English classes—it’s to meet people.
Maybe that sounds dumb or trite. For a while, I lied about it. After all, I’m not just here to meet people. I do genuinely want to take informative classes, attend on-campus talks, and get a degree (job prospects! the economy!). But above any of that, I’m here to expand my worldview and get an education in the broadest sense of the word. I’m here to become a better person and through that endeavor develop skills that will transfer to any career or lifestyle I choose. I don’t think classes alone, or even primarily, can accomplish that.
Don’t get me wrong; book learning is important. I know that a person can build a life on what they learn in school. For a while, I did. In my pre-college life, I was the academic—my nickname among classmates I barely knew was 4.0. I didn’t have many, or even any, close friends in elementary or middle school, and my sense of self-developed without those relationships. I developed my sense of a healthy relationship from analyzing media depictions; I originally began focusing on improving my mental health because of media depictions.
But book learning isn’t everything, nor even the primary mode of learning. Most of the lessons I cherish and use in my daily life—personal and professional—came from close friends and loved ones. Constructing my political views, learning interpersonal skills, developing my writing—that all came from conversation and friendship with others.
When I chose a college, I focused mainly on the cultures of the places I applied to, whatever that term exactly means. I used it to describe an intangible notion of fitting in: I could befriend the people here and come out of college as a better person than I entered it. I love Kenyon because of the classes and resources, sure; but I love Kenyon beyond rational explanation because of the people I’ve met here.
I’m convinced that all of my friends are too cool for me. Every time I discuss life with them, I leave feeling as if my mind has doubled in size. On a daily basis, I feel myself becoming better because of them. Without Grace and the conversations we had following Molly McCully Brown’s reading on campus, I wouldn’t be working towards starting a disability rights club on campus. Without Molly and Toby, I wouldn’t have the nuanced views on gender and sexuality, my own and others’, that I do. Without Kayleigh, I would have a much different and likely unhealthier view on time management and self-care. Mae’s analyses of people and situations leave me amazed. Isaac knows the weirdest facts about the most random subjects. Dani reminds me of the importance of creativity and spontaneity—how it improves and not diminishes professionalism. Amna makes me remember to laugh in small, ordinary moments. No class, not even the best class I could take here, can rival how much I’ve grown and continue to grow because of them.
When I look back on Kenyon decades after I graduate, I don’t think I’m going to immediately recall discussing Nietzsche in my Quest for Justice class, or reading Othello in English 103, or even writing for publications like Her Campus. The image that will come to mind will be I and my close friends disrupting a Bob Evans in local Mount Vernon with our Palentine’s Day brunch and giggling, going around the table to say what we love about each other. It will be moments that haven’t even happened yet, roommate absurdities and party antics and feeling so loved, appreciated, and supported.
I met people, really good people. They’re too cool for me. My life is better because of them. I’m holding onto them.
Image Credits: Feature, 2, Writer’s Own