November 3rd, 2020
I was accepted to my dream school. I’ll simply refer to it as College, as I don’t want to break my “not sharing real names” rule.
My parents met at this College, and we were missionaries overseas through its missions‑sending branch. We visited the campus often when I was young—so often that I would refer to it as “my home called [College].”
The year I started, they had a change in leadership. The new president of College treated the school less like an academic institution and more like an extension of his former organization. He never mentioned where he came from, but it was easy enough to figure out with a quick Google search.
A few things he made students do:
Freshmen in their first semester were required to participate in his version of Phys Ed. We had to be in the gym by 5:45 a.m., standing in lines with our small groups (usually made up of students from specific zones in the dorms), and he stood at the front of the gym with his youngest son up on the bleachers watching us. We had to follow his directions, and he ended every class with overhead claps. Overhead claps sound easy, right? Nope. He turned it into a rhythm test—eight counts, two claps each, only the prime numbers spoken aloud. If anyone missed the timing, the whole group started again.
We also had weekly assignments that changed every week. Things like military‑style bed‑making, cold showers, cold showers with a die roll, and square meals. Everyone thinks I’m joking when I mention the square meals… I’m not. It’s a military punishment: put food on your fork, lift it straight up until it lines up with your mouth, bring it straight to your mouth, bring it straight down, bring it straight back to the plate. We had to do that for a week. At a missionary training school. What was that training us for? We were told, “Beat your body, make it your slave,” and, “Do hard things [for Christ].”
There were other things, but I don’t want to bombard you all at once.
Anyway, another thing that changed either the year I started or a few years prior was that the College had just become accredited.
This was a big deal.
I guess it meant we were less limited in how we could use our degrees—something like that.
To cut a long story short (I’ll finish it later), College ended up not working out for me, and I chose to drop out.
Right before my exit interview, I got this image:
At the time, I didn’t know what it meant. I shared it with the person interviewing me, but they brushed it off when I didn’t have an explanation.
I think I know what it means now.
College was moving too fast. They were trying to make too many changes and had too many tools at their disposal. They needed to stop and think about the impact of their decisions.
One point of contention at my workplace right now is that staff think all of their thoughts and ideas should be heard and implemented. At the same time, leadership is asking for staff input and not following up on any of it. And yes, I get that leadership is busy and can’t respond to every single suggestion, but if they don’t have time for it, why are they asking for it?
College had the opposite problem. They would ask for feedback, then address it in chapel and blame the student body for the College’s failings.
I’m not trying to bash the school. At one point, it was great. I’m simply trying to bring to light some issues that I and other students had.
I often say, “I wouldn’t wish my college experience on anyone, but I wouldn’t change it for anything.” People try to convince me this line of thinking is wrong, but is it?
I don’t want anyone to have to go through the things I had to struggle through. But if I hadn’t struggled through them, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. I wouldn’t have the friends, the connections, the resilience.
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” Yes, it’s not for every situation, but in this instance it fits really well.
That’s all for now.
Talk soon,
Rae
