As most of you know, I graduated from Randolph-Macon Woman’s College in 2001. RMWC was the perfect place for me to go to college – small student body, small campus, lots of tradition, lots of red bricks (including some made in Chilhowie!), small classes, good professors, good food, good friends. As it should be, going to RMWC remains one of the major defining markers of my life.
So, in August 2006 when it was announced that it had been recommended that the Board of Trustees vote to begin admitting male students and when the board did so that September and when in August 2007 the first male students arrived on campus, heartbroken only cracks the surface of how I and my sister alumnae felt. I was lucky in that in addition to 4 years of wonderful memories and countless friends, my last visit to campus had been for my 5 year reunion (a year early) in May 2005. We stayed in the dorms and, being just 4 years post-graduation, it was almost like we were just back in school, even if just for a few days.
A year ago, when I set about making my 101/1001 list, I thought visiting the former RMWC, now Randolph College, would make me mad. That I’d be filled with bitterness and anger. And I knew that I needed to go back and not feel that way. That I needed to find space in my heart and my head where I could come to peace with the changes my dear RMWC had undergone and be grateful for the time I had there and all that it had given and continues to give me. So, on Monday, while driving back from a weekend at Smith Mountain Lake, I stopped by campus. I wasn’t mad. I wasn’t bitter. I was just sad. Sad when I saw boys coming out of Main Hall unescorted by their female hosts. Sad when I saw boys in the dining hall eating lunch on a Monday (and not just brunch on Saturday or Sunday). Sad when I went by the (new) Bookshop and the only RMWC items they had were license plate frames and glassware (nevermind being told it must have been a “long time ago” when I told the student working there that I’d worked at the Bookshop when it was in the little house). While Frank Baum (via Dorothy) had us to believe that there’s no place like home, more often than not, I think it’s more likely that you can’t go home (or at least the home you place on the pedestal where you keep your most precious memories).
As I tweeted, R(MW)C is one of the only places that can both make my heart swell and sink at the same time. And, I wouldn’t change that for the world. I will love you Randolph-Macon evermore.
... where voices serenading in the night, sing of loyalty and love
That was beautifully written. It made me cry. I think that you have described exactly how I feel right now….sad for the change and the women who won’t get to experience it, but grateful that I could have the experience with such a fantastic group of friends who I wouldn’t trade for anything. Thank you for sharing this!