My College: A Daydream
My college loves my kind of foolishness, loves hyperactive philosophy, useless adventures like ice skating for hours, my tears for the barren ugliness of humanity, my giddy adoration for beautiful beautiful delicious delicious humanity, and unproductive staring and wandering. It nudges my sensitive artist into bloom through challenges, workshops, and artistic community.
My college feeds my academic inclination into a raging creature, consuming everything from science to music theory. It sharpens my logic into a gleaming rapier as I fence with other minds in conversation. It dares me to be passionate about every subject and to truly know them, not just pass their classes. There is absolutely no emphasis on grades. None. Zip. Nada.
My college mentors me. There are professors who know me personally, egging me on, rebuking me when I slide into complacency, celebrating my best and catching me when I slack. At my college, there is no way to fall through the cracks, no place to hide. They know me. And they know what I'm capable of. They expect nothing less.
My college is a community. A community of writers, artists, engineers, doctors, and mathematicians, diverse in field, diverse in opinion, diverse in race, diverse in religion. They all respect each other. Mathematicians honor writers, and writers honor mathematicians. My college is engaged in discussion from cafes to classrooms. Every student would be willing to stay up with me until 3am exploring God or the meaning of life or the purpose of education.
My college encourages me to be me. It cheers on my silliness and sharpens my intelligence, and holds both in equal esteem.
If only I could find it.