At each university, and this is especially true for Texan schools, students often describe themselves by their school’s distinguishing characteristics. "Of course I’m school-spirited!,” “Everyone here loves rock!,” "I'm a die-hard fan; I go to every game!"
What does one do, however, when at a school with no common identity; on the contrary, the school's students more readily define themselves by a lack of identity?
This would be fine, except a lack is just that: a lack. How could you possibly define yourself by a lack?
Odd as it sounds, I think there are characteristics within this lack of identity when it comes to St. Edward's University students.
Our institution is defined by founders as "a private, Catholic liberal arts institution of more than 5,300 located in one of the world's most vibrant cities,
In broad speculation, different assumptions can be made. Private schools are notorious for fostering pretentious individuals. Catholicism is often equated with self-righteous religious fanatics. Liberal arts suggests self-proclaimed clairvoyant youngsters. Even the school’s location of “vibrant”
These assumptions are well-off, however. While I have no proof that such individuals don't exist here, I do have proof that not everyone fits these descriptions. I am Catholic, yet have many friends who are not. I know vegetarians, but also plenty who have to be hounded into recycling. I also know as many who remain uninvolved in campus activities as live for betterment of our community.
What's strange is that, while I know few ostentatious in their pride of being a Hilltopper, I don't often encounter those firmly opposed to being here.
But that's what makes us Hilltoppers unique. We can like our school without annoying people, flashing our gaudy purple and gold or gruesome maroon and white at every opportunity. We like people enough to have elected a school where we can meet someone in class and expect to see them at Meadows Coffee shop sometime.
We're okay with getting to know our professors enough so they actually recognize us if ever run into while grocery shopping. I've even encountered classes where we willingly meet for casual discussions on our own time.
No, we may not have a football team and our sports events don't have record-setting attendees, but I see my classmates help others whenever able. We help each other in subtle ways because we feel a sense of community, however undefinable, with our peers.
The best part about being a student at St. Edward's University? A few simple experiences can explain.
I remember one of my first weeks as a freshman. Walking from Doyle, the homey-even-if-moldy dorm, I stopped by our humble, small white chapel. The sun cascaded lazily through the trees as butterflies fluttered in the fuschia flowers beside the path. I remember thinking: "I'm home." The usual homesickness always with me evanesced. Just like that.
This morning, I walked into the coffee shop and looked around. I saw several of my peers occupying couches and tables, lightly chatting or absorbed in readings.
Something about the smell of coffee and morning sun combined with the sight of familiar classmates comforts me, because I know no matter how different we are and what varying things we find interest in, as that's largely responsible for our lack of common identity, we go through similar experiences.
We know how awful it feels when a class we were looking forward to is canceled because enrollment was not high enough.
We love to complain about parking, though walking half a mile is no comparison to other schools, where students have to make two-mile treks to classes.
We hate catching South Congress Cafe when they are closed or are out of the only edible-looking dish in sight.
And yet, in spite of these complaints, we love St. Edward's. It's really inexplicable, but something keeps us here. Every day as I walk past our eminent main building, I look up at the crimson-colored steeple contrasting against the azure blue of the sky and I'm happy. I am a St. Edward's University hilltopper.
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