n the spring of my senior year of high school, my parents and I started touring the colleges on my list of prospective schools. We ran through the list, discussing possibilities as we went along. One school was overwhelmingly large with no person-to-person interaction. One was in the middle of nowhere. One was significantly out of my price range. Another was too far away, and before I knew it, this was the one school left standing: Elizabethtown College. Adding to its allure, I was awarded a scholarship to offset the tuition. The number of students from my school planning on attending would be ten, including me. How could I get away from home if I was at a tiny college in a town similar to my own, with nine other students from my school?
All of this ran through my head as we arrived on campus for the first time. I decided that I didn’t like it. I didn’t need a tour. I didn’t want to go here. But I’d tour to appease my parents and then cross it off my list like all the others. Then, I’d start again and then, I was convinced that I would find the right school, because this wasn’t it. Before you criticize me for bashing our school, hear me out; I still hadn’t set foot on campus. I had worked everything out in my head to justify not attending, and for whatever reasons I had convinced myself to be right.
After getting lost, we were kindly directed to the Office of Admissions by who would have been my tour guide. He introduced himself, held the doors for us and set the stage for the manner of people we’d come across on Etown’s campus. On our two-hour tour, the Jaywalker had said “hello” to numerous people, held doors for other students, thanked others for the same and exemplified the friendly atmosphere of the little campus. I wouldn’t say I was shocked by the polite gestures offered all over campus; I was surprised. I hadn’t pictured college as a warm and friendly place. That isn’t how the movies do it.
On the short tour, I had already gotten used to seeing someone hold a door open for a total stranger who was still a ways off or stopping on his way to class to talk to a classmate he hasn’t talked to in a while. It was so different from the large, impersonal school that I didn’t like. It was smack- dab in the middle of a community and near to three large cities. Tuition was expensive, but manageable. I was far enough to be away from home, yet close enough to calm my mother’s fears.
Maybe this little town, full of seemingly kind people, was exactly where I wanted to be. After less debate than I expected, I decided to attend. I was looking forward to a school where people knew everyone’s names, and where stopping to greet a classmate was commonplace. Then I was struck with the fear that kindness was just for show or the sake of the tour.
Move-in day calmed all of my built-up anxiety. Other students greeted me, asked me my name, how I was doing, how was I feeling and what room they could help me move into. A few hours later, after finally getting settled into my dorm, our RA came into each room to introduce herself and see if there was anything she could do for us. For the most part, the people here were like those we encountered on my tour. Phew! That was a relief. I chose to come here almost entirely on the grounds that the campus created a feeling of family; you didn’t need to know everyone, but you could be sure that walking across campus would put you in the path of several people you knew, smiling and waving hello as you walked by. Once the year started and the stress set in, I was again surprised to see that no student forgot the respect or helpfulness that I had come to associate with the campus. If you forgot your keys, someone would let you into the building. That is a great way to meet people during the first few weeks. It did wonders for me. Doors were always held open, sometimes even before you were near the door. If you needed nearly anything, most neighbors’ doors were open.
Coming back for my sophomore year, I didn’t even think about the possibility of the campus attitudes changing. Clearly the addition of the first-year class and the loss of the senior class would change how the campus interacted, but I didn’t fear that it would change my opinion of the people in general. I hadn’t thought about how the dynamic would be altered when 500 or more new students lived on campus with us. If anything, I feel that the campus has grown warmer, perhaps even friendlier. The newest additions to the campus community seem to be comfortable with the family-like atmosphere here.
From what I have seen, they have joined our peer group families as easily as the previous classes. The manners of the whole population haven’t changed negatively. The culture of Etown: holding doors, waving to friends, smiling at strangers hasn’t declined with the turning of years. It has continued to flourish and maintained its reputation as a friendly place to live and learn.
