It’s that time of year: the weather turns bad, due dates near, and the newness of school has fully worn off. Some of you are thinking of not coming back for second semester. I think you should reconsider. I tell you this out of experience.
I hated Hillsdale College. Four years ago, I never thought I would endorse this school to anyone. Fall of freshman year, I was like a kid trying to run away from boarding school.
My first escape came about a week into classes. I went to my parents’ house at midnight and told them I was never going back. It was too small, too conservative, and too close to home, I said. They reasoned with me over pancake breakfast and, by the time I returned to campus, I had missed just one class.
I lasted the semester out, despite my disdain for Hillsdale. I wanted an adventure with high winds, waves, mountains, a river, a raft, a friend named Jim. Instead, I was a half hour from home trying to muster the concentration to make it through Plato’s “Republic.”
I finished first semester with a respectable GPA and made a number of good friends, but that wasn’t going to get me to stay. I didn’t return for the spring. I started working on a house my dad owned in downtown Jackson, Mich. While painting walls, replacing trim, and caulking leaky windows, I grew attached to the house and my role as Tool-Time Deuce. In early January, I recruited two high school friends to move in and help finish the work. When there were no more walls to paint we decided to stay and rent the place. I traded my Charger blue for Jackson Community College maroon and a dishwasher job at a local restaurant. I didn’t really have any plans. I was just happy to be away from Hillsdale.
It was only a matter of time before reality set in. My neighborhood wasn’t quite a ghetto, but my neighbors definitely weren’t the Birzers. My house became a haven for 18-year old alcoholics-in-training and blunt-rolling “wangsters.” I suddenly found myself surrounded by young people very different from the friends I made at Hillsdale College.
In the course of the three months, we had a computer stolen, an iPod stolen, and two windows broken. Bums harassed me on runs. One of my roommates landed in jail.
Work and school were unsatisfying. I’d be at work late washing dishes, thinking about evenings back at Hillsdale where I could play ping pong with friends or study around the fireplace in the union and eat ice cream. Jackson Community College didn’t have fireplaces in the union, and I didn’t need to do much studying. I vomited ideas onto my papers and somehow an “A” always came back.
I began to miss Hillsdale more than ever. I missed the quality people. I missed intelligent conversations. I even missed getting “C”s on papers. I eventually decided to transfer back to Hillsdale and I was welcomed.
My excursion into Jackson cost me money and time, but the lesson I learned made it worth it. Hillsdale is a remarkable place. The people are kind and sincere. The school is committed to instilling in students a passion for truth and goodness.
As an 18-year old, you may roll your eyes. I did. I took it all for granted — everything that makes this school special. You might be restless or have ambitions that don’t seem to relate to Hillsdale, but consider this: Four years goes by fast and Hillsdale will equip you to go out into the world and pursue your dreams. I’ve learned, matured, and made lifelong friends here. You will too, if you decide to stay.