Ann Arbor local’s rant

“So, where are you from?”

This question was asked to me all over campus during the first few weeks of my freshman year. Whether in orientation groups, discussion groups, fraternity basements, or wherever I went during the first few weeks of fall my freshman year, I couldn’t escape it. Often sandwiched between “What’s your name?” and “What’s your major?”, this question seemed to be a consensual starter for all introductory conversations at the University of Michigan.

Personally, I dreaded it. My answer wasn’t some exotic, far-off state where the sun shines for more than three months of the year, or the subject of love songs and poetry. I grew up about a six-minute drive from my dorm room, and during my first few months at university, I was determined to hide the fact that I was going to study in my hometown.

From the moment I first started thinking about college, I insisted to everyone that I would attend a school out of state and move as far away from Ann Arbor as possible. When I finalized my college list at the end of my junior year, I filled it with fancy private schools on the East Coast and pretended not to see my mother frown when she saw how expensive what I considered a ticket to the life I wanted to lead was. Famous journalists, writers, politicians, artists, or poets didn’t attend big state schools near them; they spent their college years making names for themselves in fancy apartments in big cities.

As my college decisions and financial aid packages rolled in, I reluctantly paid my deposit at the University of Michigan and was disappointed that I wouldn’t be getting to experience a new college town in the fall. After allowing myself a few days of sulking, I decided to make the most of my spot at this school that many other people would gladly take.

During my first semester, my resolve to reinvent myself outweighed my inevitable homesickness, and I avoided going home as much as possible—only making short trips there on vacation and once when I had the flu. I made new friends with people from all over the world and found new favorite coffee shops, avoiding the places I’d frequented in high school. My efforts to convince myself that the distance from my parents was greater than it actually was proved surprisingly successful. If I tried hard enough, the sidewalks I walked to class were no longer the same ones I’d walked my entire life.

With more than half of each UM graduating class coming from the state of Michigan, I imagine many of you feel the same way. Whether it’s a city in southeast Michigan or a small town in the Upper Peninsula, attending college close to home can feel like a setback when you should be prioritizing new experiences in new places for the first time. But it doesn’t have to be.

During my first two years of college, I realized that while I was still in the same place I always was, I was no longer the same person. Trying to convince myself that I was somehow “stuck” and needed to attend Michigan did nothing but hold myself back.

As a high school student in Ann Arbor, I convinced myself that I already knew college life inside and out and that my college experience would bore me – since I was apparently already such an expert. I couldn’t have been more wrong. On campus, life was very different than I expected it to be from my perspective. If I could go back in time and talk to myself from two years ago, I would tell her to open herself up to this opportunity that could prove to be a blessing in disguise.

I grew up in the same house as my mother. From kindergarten through senior year, I sat in the same classrooms and read the same books as my grandparents. My Ann Arbor roots run deep, deeper than I sometimes care to admit. As someone who is obsessed with the idea of ​​a fresh start and has had an independent streak since I could walk, the idea of ​​going to college in the city I grew up in was not exactly exciting at first. However, my time at the university has taught me to love life as it is rather than waiting for it to begin.

Whether you live a 10-minute drive or a 10-hour flight away, your college experience at the university will change you in meaningful ways if you let it. Although I still long for a big city where every Saturday night doesn’t feel like a high school reunion, going to college in my hometown taught me not to rush into anything. I can live out my big city dreams another day. Now here I am, wishing I could go back to my last self and tell her about all the amazing experiences she will have, all the incredible people she will meet, all the fascinating things she will learn, and all the wonderful memories she will make after two years of college at the school she never wanted to go to.

Summer Editor-in-Chief Mary Corey can be reached at [email protected]

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