Dreams in Southern Michigan

Long before I'm finally getting down to writing this, I was accepted into both Seattle University and Albion College. In the last month and a half, I have managed to visit both of them and my conclusion upon returning from dreams of the none-to-distant future was not even close to what I was expecting.

My dream college has always been one on the coast, far from my parents and relatives not because I have issues with any of them, but because I want to be absorbed by the independence that living beyond a phone-call away would provide me. For this reason, my top three schools were Seattle University, Sarah Lawrence College in New York, and Roger Williams University in Rhode Island. However, visiting Seattle in January, I didn't feel the connection to the city or the college that I was hoping for. Seattle is a wonderful city. All of the people were adequately helpful and friendly and the college was intriguing. And yet, when I returned home, something about my journey didn't sit right with me. For the longest time I couldn't place it. I couldn't figure out what about Seattle had left me on edge. Then, upon writing a similar entry in my paper journal, I realized that I had left  feeling as though I had never been welcomed. The people of Seattle were more than welcoming, but the city itself felt closed and passive to me.

Then, a couple weeks ago now, my father and I trekked out to southern Michigan for an open house at Albion College. We chose to drive -- well, my dad did the driving, I spent most of the nine-and-a-half-hour trip day dreaming. By suggestion from one of the people working at Albion, we stayed at a Holiday Inn Express in Marshall, just fifteen minutes west of the town of Albion. Marshall was beautiful. We got to see a little of it the first night we were there when we went in search of a very late dinner. It's a collage of old houses and historic buildings. It was fairly easy to see that it got most of it's revenue from tourists. In fact, the last day we went into Marshall, we stumbled upon a Museum of Magic and promptly declared that even if I didn't end up at Albion College, we would have to come down to Marshall as a family some time.

The day of the open house didn't start well. Albion was no Northfield or Dinkytown. Instead, it was a junkyard of worn-out houses and lifeless store fronts. I was immediately put off. Northfield was the first college town I had ever experienced and I had fallen in love with it. It wouldn't surprise me if that's really what I'm looking for in my college search. I was disappointed, as was my father. Then we turned onto the campus of Albion and suddenly the whole town seemed to come to life! Snow lay over everything, but people trotted between cheery tan buildings. Entering the registration building for the open house, I was greeted and directed to a large room utterly filled with people. Looking down upon the open floor of a sky-lit hall, I saw professors speaking with students about the departments they were representing. I saw high school students greeting fellow seniors. Joining the melee, I immediately was greeted by a counselor who, upon hearing that I was also from Minnesota, introduced me to a girl from Morris. We exchanged e-mails and our fathers chatted about carpooling. Yikes! Slow down, I thought. I haven't made any decisions yet!

The first session began and I fell into company with a fellow creative writer and a theater/music major also named Nora. In the first session of the day, I was told by a professor of theater that at Albion, not only will all your professor's know your name, but they'll know your dorm room, and your roommate. If you skip class, they're going to know why whether you tell them or not. During a student run panel, I was over whelmed by the dozens of clubs that Albion provided students. Everything from an Equestrian Club to knitting to anime. I made the acquaintance of an Albion freshman who had wanted to go to New York because she couldn't stand the north midwest cold, and yet she found herself here, in Michigan, and she loved it. She was studying Japanese (a language I intend to study) and she offered to direct me to the next place I had to go: lunch.

In the lunch room, I met up with my father and we eventually claimed a seat. The Nora I had met before soon joined us and the parents once again got to talking. Suddenly, I felt myself slipping. The dreams of being a student here that I had never experienced in Seattle were suddenly manifesting within my mind. I reminded myself that I hadn't heard from or seen Sarah Lawrence yet, and the dreams settled.

I was doomed when I saw the Equestrian Center.

The stables for the campus are five minutes away. Easily walkable in finer weather, and only a call to campus security away any other time. My dad and I accidently drove past it the first time, but when we came to the end of the twisted driveway, I felt like I had been transported to the finest stable in Europe. The place was a massive collection of white buildings filled with windows and blue trim. Inside it was airy enough that someone with the most horrendous allergies could probably breathe without wheezing. A heated VIP viewing room granted four picture-window portraits of the largest indoor arena I had ever seen. It was big enough to hold a full blown dressage ring at one end and still have room for a complex jumping course at the other. It was in this room that George, the British riding instructor, and Daneille, the non-British instructor, told the tour group of which I was a part of, about the British Horse Society certificate that Albion also offers. The certificate would allow the bearer to teach lessons, manage a stable, or be a groom throughout the US, Canada, and nearly every country in Europe. They went on to explain about the shows that Albion's Intercolligiate Equestrian Team goes to, how easy it is to get on one of the teams, how rewarding it is to compete in Albion's schooling shows which add up to a $5,000 pot in April, and, if all that wasn't enough, Danielle took us on a tour of the rest of the stables. By the time we had returned to the VIP room, I had forgotten how to breathe. It was too much. A dream. A fantasy. There couldn't possibly exist a college this perfect! Once more I reminded myself that I hadn't seen Sarah Lawrence yet. SLC also had a very prestigious Equestrian complex. I had seen pictures online of it. You didn't have to try out for SLC's team either. However, there was one more thing that Albion had to offer. No, there was no dress code at Albion. Breeches and tall boots were suggested, but not required. . . at SLC each student had to wear a polo with the name of the stable on it, tall boots, and tan breeches. I climbed back into the car, my mind reeling. I couldn't keep the dreams at bay any more. They budded, blossomed and grew, nourished further by the private tour Sean, a junior at Albion, took my dad and I on for our last excursion before heading back to Marshall for dinner.

Maybe I just won't get accepted into SLC. I can't imagine myself having to choose.

Then, just this past weekend, I was once more involved in the homeschool community's Shakespearean Youth Theatre. On and off for the past several years, I have helped this theatre group by doing hair. Doing it this time -- the last time -- I realized how much I was going to miss it. Then I realized how much it would pain me to be so far away from the friends and life I have created here. A life that I would be unable to come home and visit. If I went to school in New York or Rhode Island, I wouldn't be able to come home for a weekend in February to watch these people's acting grow. That thought hurt. And just like that, a little college in southern Michigan, nearly as far from the east coast as Minnesota, shot to the top of my list.