I love Northwestern. I’ll probably be one of those 40-year-old relatives who tell their niece or nephew, “It was the best four years of my life.” That’s what my relatives told me before I galumphed around Chicago on a pre-Wildcat Welcome program three years ago. When I have 17-year-old nieces and nephews, I hope I remember to add a caveat. When I say, “It was the best four years of my life,” I’ll include the addendum, “but it took time. It didn’t happen immediately.” I think it’s important for freshmen to know that feeling at home here can take much more time than anticipated. From what everyone told me, I expected to love Northwestern the moment I arrived, but there were adjustment difficulties. I lived in a residence hall with twice the student population of my entire high school. The number of potential student organizations was so overwhelming that I signed up for all of them and went to almost none of them. I wanted to play board games, but it seemed that everyone I met just wanted to party. I considered transferring for most of Fall Quarter because Northwestern felt like a mistake. I was not experiencing what I was supposed to experience.
Eventually, Northwestern got better, and then became great, and then turned into amazing. For me, the first stage occurred when I joined a fraternity. I was accepted by a group of people for who I was as a person, rather than for the artistic or literary products I was capable of producing. It doesn’t have to be Greek Life. Other friends of mine have found a home through cultural groups, a capella groups, residence halls, etc. Personally, I needed to find a group of people unrelated to my major, while others reveled in communities surrounded by common academic or professional interests. We needed to find people we felt at home with before the campus itself felt like home. Northwestern became great and then amazing as the years went on, and I diversified my communities, met new people, and engaged in leadership roles on campus. For some of my friends, the search for a home community took a little longer than mine, or it happened a little sooner. There are also some students for whom it never occurred, and they chose to transfer, as I had considered, but I’m thankful I stuck through the hard times. Even senior year there are still days it’s rough, and that’s OK. Home doesn’t have to always be perfect.
I left home in North Carolina three years ago to attend Northwestern, and, in just three more quarters, I’ll be leaving home again. At March Through the Arch, I felt ancient cheering for the freshmen and transfers a third time. They were beginning the appetizer course as I moved on to dessert. But I haven’t set my ice cream spoon down just yet. I have three more chances to take that just-for-fun class which has so far fallen victim to scheduling conflicts. I have three more chances to participate in that student organization from which I’ve received emails since freshmen year but have yet to attend. I also have three more quarters to order an all-topping pizza at Blaze, attempt the Cheesie’s challenge, receive a SPAC deep-tissue massage, while surviving all three experiences. Some of my fellow seniors are already checking out. They’re taking three-class quarters and phasing out involvement with student organizations. I’m trying to sample what I can before the clock strikes, and I search for a new home. As with freshman year, that new home will take some time to develop, but it will happen, just like it did at Northwestern.