"Totally free and totally fantastic"

One of the things about growing a writing center is that you have to be out there publicizing your message/vision to everyone. Today, I had the opportunity to meet with first-year students under a big white tent on the quad, along with fifty-or-so clubs and resource offices such as the Campus Activity Board and the Health Services office. We didn’t have any of the fancy swag that other groups had. No stress balls, back packs, tee-shirts, or water bottles. We didn’t even have magnets or fancy brochures. But we had candy, flyers, and my loud voice.

Now inside, my voice isn’t always an asset, but outside, it is a gift. Competing with the music, cheerleaders, and general din of the event, my camp counselor training kicked in and I was able to attract the walker-bys and entice them over. I found myself without a plan initially and saying stupid things like: “Come to the writing center. It’s totally free and totally fantastic,” but after I while I found my groove and found ways to let them know about us and to even learn a little about them.

They seem like a neat group of students: interested, curious, and seemingly invested in their education. I particularly liked one guy in an Of Mice and Men tee-shirt. He couldn’t remember where he got it, but told me if he saw it for sale again, he’d let me know. There were many interactions like that. Students just wanted to share and be noticed. So many of them said, “You’ll see me there [at the WC]. I’m going to need a lot of help.” And we’ll look forward to seeing them too. The more the merrier.

Small campuses

There’s something kind of wonderful about small campuses: people know each other, there are only a few buildings to familiarize yourself with, and there’s a friendliness you don’t necessarily find at larger universities. I suppose for some people those things might be turnoffs, but for me, they are some of the best parts of my job.

Yesterday morning, my iPod alarm sounded, softly playing Janet Jackson and waking me up for the start of my first day. After a morning of making sure I looked just right and getting all my paperwork in order, I made the 5-minute hop to the campus human resources building. HR is located about a ¼ mile from the main campus in this adorable 2-story stone house next to the campus greenhouses.

When I arrived at the front door, I was met by with a “You must be Holly!” greeting. Shocked, I gave the man a big smile and a nod. How strange that he knew my name, I thought. But that’s the thing about small schools: people know each other, and more significantly, they know who doesn’t belong or, in my case, who’s new.

The rest of the day followed a similar pattern: people wouldn’t recognize me (or my voice), we would make introductions, and then he/she would welcome me to the college. At Student Affairs, the administrative assistant responded to my inquiry about van rental by saying, “I don’t think we’ve met. Are you new?” When I went to the IT department, the director knew my name and said she has been waiting for me. And, in an almost-embarrassing encounter, my new dean said to me, “I heard your voice down the hall and I wanted to say hi! I’m glad you’re here!”

When people ask me how I knew Penn State Berks was the right school for me, I tell them that at the end of my interview almost the entire committee hugged me goodbye. That kind of gesture would scare a lot of people away or be characterized as “unprofessional,” but for me it was the moment I knew Berks was my kind of place. I just hope they continue to feel the same about me—and my loud voice!

Moving to Reading

After a tearful week of saying goodbye to friends, I reluctantly left for Reading Friday morning. I wanted to put on a happy face and think about all the possibilities, but I couldn’t muster the energy. Instead, I mostly found ways to complain all the way to Pennsylvania: the traffic was bad, we should have left earlier; it was too cold in the car; the cat won’t stop crying; I hate (fill in the blank). Needless to say, I made an excellent traveling companion.

Happily, though, things turned around when I saw the neon glow of the hotel sign. At reception, I impatiently waited behind three older women looking for a cheap hotel deal (there weren’t any because of a Jehovah Witness convention in town), and I almost cheered when Matthew, the front-desk guy, handed me the room keys. We grabbed the cats, all of their accoutrements, and headed up to the room—which is fabulous! The room is spacious, clean, and comfy. There are TWO televisions (one in the bedroom and one in the living room) with HBO! W00t!

The cats couldn’t stop themselves from sniffing and rubbing on every inch of the room. I’m sure they found nooks and crannies no one else has ever discovered. Finally, they settled down to eat some dinner, but quickly lost interest in their food in favor of chasing each other around the two rooms.

The rest of the evening was uneventful: unloaded the car, set up my shoe rack, unpacked the bags, and went to bed. Apparently the cats drove P. Hubby crazy, but I had no trouble sleeping and ignoring them!

The next day, we were up early to meet with the realtor. It’s hard to figure out the right location to live as P. Hubby and I have jobs over an hour apart. We spent most of the day driving around with the agent, trying to explain our needs/wants. It was rather exhausting and sobering to realize that I will probably have an hour commute from wherever we live.

Today, we walked to the main strip in West Reading and ate crepes and shopped at the Farmer’s Market. It was lovely to spend the day relaxing with my husband and enjoying the warm air. It made me think this move is all going to work out just fine.