During the late 19th century, the flour-milling industry in the Twin Cities boomed. The combination of Midwestern-grown wheat and water power from the Mississippi River created a thriving economic niche that still persists today. A little more than 100 years later, my food scientist parents would follow that economic niche north from North Carolina. Now a powerhouse in agriculture and meatpacking, there were opportunities for my parents, who brought me along with them.

I always thought I would go back to the South for college. Despite the years I’ve lived here, I’ve never felt ‘Minnesotan.’ Maybe it’s the North Carolina birth certificate or the Southern parents or the latent accent that randomly revives itself.. Whatever it is, it made me distinctively not of the North Star State. Whenever I struggled in grade school, my dad would reassure me that I would find my people and thrive in college. For much of my life, I couldn’t see a path where those people were not somewhere back home in the South.

Suffice to say, I did not go back to the South for college — I didn’t even leave Minnesota. I picked Carleton; a small liberal arts college over the big, agriculture-focused, land-grant universities. I fell in love with the campus from the minute I arrived for the Summer Liberal Arts Institute (SLAI) program, and I came home raving about the professors and the environment. Although I didn’t know it yet (and frankly, wouldn’t know it until I committed), my mind was made up. Nothing and nobody could beat that experience. 

My decision was met with a variety of reactions from the people in my life, ranging from excitement to confusion to dissensus. But the reactions that mattered most were positive. I got my Carleton acceptance notification at practice, and was so nervous that I called my friend to open the letter. When I saw the confetti come across the screen, I started screaming into the phone, and she screamed right back. My coach was, thankfully, forgiving of me running off the ice to check my phone. In celebration, she spared me from practicing my twizzles. My parents, the most important people in my life, were unflinchingly supportive. They told me over and over to take the opportunity that was best for me, regardless of whatever was best for anyone else.

There’s so much about Carleton that I love. Despite the off-beat-ness and the never-ending explanations, I enjoy the trimester system and the six credit classes. I love the walkable campus and the proximity  to downtown. I love how if you talk to anyone here long enough, they’ll show you exactly why they got into Carleton. I love being close enough to home that I can still make my little brother’s band concert or Sunday match, while still being far enough that I can begin to build my own life. 

There are smaller things that I’ve fallen in love with too: the dried flowers above the window by my bed, the chapel bell serenades that I’ve still yet to figure out the schedule of (if someone knows, please tell me!), the mint chocolate chip cookies in the dining halls, the light shining into the studio that I’m taking Ballet I in this term and the campus squirrels who have exactly zero fear of humans.

There are some things I’m still learning to love — or at least, still learning to live with. The social mores of Carleton are vast, fascinating and, at times, a bit annoying. Maintaining relationships, on campus and off campus, is difficult when you’re running the sprint that is a ten week term. Calling professors by their first names upsets something deep in my soul. And I’m still getting used to not being able to go an hour without running into someone I know.

But, that’s life.

To wrap this article up with a nice (and probably cringe) bow: Dad’s always right — there were people out there who were just like me. They’re at Carletonian pitch meetings and the KRLX studio. They’re in the car with me at 6:00 a.m. to go to practice. They’re in my bio lab section, or my intro Africana studies class. They’re at my job, on my dorm floor or in an interview. They’re all around me, all the time, and I can’t wait to meet all the people the next three years will bring. 

Congrats on making it to the end of Spring Term, Carls. I’m very grateful to be on campus with y’all.