— E.B. White
When I was a little girl, I read a good deal of old books about other girls who went to college, or dreamed of going to college, or fought to go to college. I used to imagine that college would look like a tree filled campus with old buildings and surrounding woods. It would have vast, cavernous buildings with nooks and crannies and hidden places. The students there would be scholarly, smart, witty, and (because this is after all my fantasy) well coordinated and fashionable. There would be a bell that rang like a church bell.
My fantasy of college life, though conceived in the early nineties, looked an awful lot like the 1950's.
Of course, like all lives, my life happened in the intervening years between these girlish fantasies and now. I grew up. I traveled. I worked. I kept reading. I sometimes kept writing. I left home and came back and left again. I tried on a lot of different skins and none of them felt right.
Then, I went to school. I meant to go part time, and keep playing around with all those different skins. What happened how ever, is that I was lucky enough to be included in a pretty amazing program, dreamed up and maintained by some pretty amazing professors. These professors gave me the idea that, maybe, just maybe, my childhood collegiate fantasy was still a possibility.
They directed me to Bryn Mawr College.
I researched. I applied. I scheduled an interview.
On the day of the interview, my father drove me the 30 or so miles to the school and waited patiently while his adult daughter fumbled around the campus in the snow. I was amazed by how much the place matched my daydreams. I was also really delighted to find out that their mascot is an owl, when my name means wise little owl in Gaelic.
The interview seemed to go well, but I was not admitted.
Ever the optimist, I hadn't applied to any other schools and decided that I would stay where I was for one more year.
I applied again,
I waited and waited, but heard nothing.
I accepted another school's offer of admission and went on with my life.
Then, in the middle of summer, I got a phone call that I had been accepted to Bryn Mawr. I reacted quite like I imagine I would if I was crowned Miss America. I jumped. I squealed. I ran around. I cried a little.
A little over two weeks ago, I drove to the campus for the first time to attend 3 days of orientation. It was whirlwind of activity and the weight of it never really sank in until I registered for my classes on the library computer. I fought back the emotional response to finally, finally, being exactly where I wanted to be, after a long search.
That emotional response has been threatening to come for two and half weeks, but always at the worst possible times, like when I have been driving, or when I was walking through the woods to class. No matter what I did, I couldn't get it to come at a good time. I even visited my grandmother's grave to tell her about it, and, still nothing came. Tonight, by accident, I found this E.B. White Quote.
That emotional response?
It's here.
I am crying and laughing at the same time. So humbled and lucky and fucking amazed that I have been included in this community of bright and witty and amazing young women who have welcomed me warmly into a world that I used to dream about.
