And the winner is...

There are times when the unexpected can be delightful. Last Fall, when I began this crazy journey to find a college to transfer to, I never expected that I would end up in a little, run-down town in southern Michigan.

After I visited the Albion College in February, I had an inkling feeling that I would end up going there. Things had just aligned themselves so well while I was there. I had already made a couple friends, the horse stables are actually on the campus, and I'm close enough to home that I can return for events that I really can't imagine missing—specifically the homeschool Shakespearean play group that I enjoy watching. I'm also close enough for my family and friends to visit, but far enough away that I can fully experience the independence that I've been craving. Still, I felt obliged to wait until now to officially choose because I still hadn't heard anything from the top two colleges on my original list: Roger Williams University and Sarah Lawrence College.

The process of elimination began about a month ago. I knew as soon as I was accepted into Seattle University that I wouldn't be attending Saint Cloud State University, so they were the first college to hear the word "no." (Though they're still sending me stuff, so apparently they are in denial, or maybe just desperate.) I wrote in a previous post that Seattle hadn't felt right to me. I felt unwelcomed there, despite that I liked the city and the college. After a few weeks of debate, I finally chose to eliminate them as well. Then the eliminations continued with a college in Oregon that I had never finished applying to because they never responded to an e-mailed inquiry about SAT/ACT scores, and finally, I notified SUNY-Binghamton, another college I never finished my application for. That left me with only my top three: Albion, which I fell in love with when I visited there over President's Day, Sarah Lawrence, and Roger Williams. A week ago, I decided that I would give the latter two another week to contact me, then on Friday evening I would make my decision, or book plane tickets to the East Coast.

On Friday, my cell phone rang while I was at work. Seeing that the caller was Diane, my helpful counselor at Roger Williams, I answered the phone. Diane informed me that the admissions council had just passed her a letter attached to my essay saying that I hadn't sent in an adequate essay. Upon request, Diane clarified: I hadn't correctly answered the question. The essay was supposed to be about a favorite book that influenced my writing. I hadn't talked about a favorite book. Well, I hadn't talked about a favorite book because I don't have one. Like a lot of writers, there isn't one book that influenced my writing. I opened my essay saying that, then preceded to talk about a favorite author and how her books influenced me. Diane said that this apparently wasn't acceptable to the council and that they were willing to grant me time to write another one that better answered the question. I told Diane, thank you, but no. I had decided that I would not be attending Roger Williams University. I had no interest in attending a college that was so inflexible they were unwilling to accept an essay that they considered beautifully written but didn't answer the question perfectly.

When I got home that night, there was no mail from Sarah Lawrence, and so, I am attending Albion College come August.

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.

The End of the Beginning

          Today was it—today was my last day as a student of Century College. For two years, Century monopolized my life with homework, classes, and even work, as I was employed by the English Department's Writing Center for one and a half of those two years. Today, I made the final trek out to the school. I had actually completed my last in-class final on Tuesday morning, and yesterday evening I turned in my only online final I had to do, so my journey into school today was solely for the purpose of helping the Writing Center coordinators continue packing for Friday's move into the new Writing Center and to bid farewell to those professors and co-workers who I had grown close to over my time at the school.
          The alarm went unheard this morning because I had stayed up late finishing up the gifts I wanted to give to people today. Of course, my tardiness was rather appropriate. While my challenge with punctuality is not a trait I intend to hold on to, it has become a part of who I am, making it only fitting that I arrive late for my very last day as a student at Century. The drive in had a degree of meaning that I hadn't expected. There's few other reasons why I take the route of streets and freeways that I have been taking to get to school for a year or more now, so as I was driving it, I was as much saying good-bye to the landmarks and roads as I was planning on saying to the college.
          When I arrived at the Writing Center, it turned out that there was little packing that could be done since the place was still being made available to students busy with final papers. Instead, my boss opened my parting/Christmas gift to her and promptly made use of the "Stop This" and "Do This" post-it notes that I had included. Then, she hugged me for the first time since I met her, resulting in the beginning of my transformation from employee to just plain friend. That's when it hit me: this was it. I was done. I would never again return to Century as a student.
          I may never again be a student at Century College, but I will forever be a student of Century. Before I attended that two year college, I had no idea of what to expect from life outside of high school—not that my high school years were ordinary. I was homeschooled from the moment I dropped out of elementary school half-way through sixth grade, and the only "formal" schooling I had since then was through the homeschool co-op that I graduated with and the two math classes I took from a fellow homeschool mom. It was this lack of formality that resulted in me choosing Century College rather than attempting to jump right into a four year program. In more ways than one, it was the best decision I've ever made. The classes I took at Century allowed me to get a feel for college life without the added trouble of getting used to a new home. Every single professor I took a class from helped to guide me through the alien world of papers, lectures, and finals that I had blindly dumped myself in to, while—at the same time—teaching me something new about who I am. It was by taking English classes and watching the professors teach that I discovered I wanted to become a professor myself. In a similar way, each philosophy course I took sparked in me a new fascination with the subject to the point that I'll never be done exploring the realm of the mind. It's because of that realization that I'm going for a double major in philosophy and writing.
          Philosophy and creative writing, I wouldn't be who I am without the two, but it was through being a college student that I made that discovery, and I wouldn't be a student if not for Century. Because of that, no matter what school I move on to from here, I will always be a student of Century College.


          As of now, I have been accepted into three of the six schools I applied to: St. Cloud State University, Seattle University, and Albion College in Southern Michigan. My mom and I will be visiting Seattle U the last week in January, and my whole family will be driving out to Albion sometime in late February or early March. Seattle is my third choice, mostly because of where its located. There seems few places more suitable to a growing writer than Seattle, Washington. I have yet to hear from my first and second choice schools. My first choice is Sarah Lawrence College of Bronxville, New York. The school follows the European don system, which can basically be summed up as unrestricted, independent learning. Students meet with a counselor, called a don, once or every other week depending on what year of college you're in. During that meeting, the student and don decide on what should be accomplished by the next meeting and choose a topic for the essay that is turned in at each meeting. When I read about this system, I knew immediately that it would be perfect for me. I really hope that I both get accepted and that I can go.
          My second choice is Roger Williams University in Bristol, Rhode Island. Like Seattle U, I mostly like this school for the location. Bristol is supposed to be one of the most beautiful and most historic towns on the East Coast. The town is right on the ocean, and, in fact, many of the dorms have a view of the Atlantic.
          So, that is where I'm at now. With the end of my life at Century, the beginning of my college education has also come to an end, but the roots of my life as a student will always remain in that White Bear Lake community college, forming the foundation for whatever college comes next.