Basketball players, religious studies majors, Iraqi STEM students, and missionary kids are among the siblings who have chosen to attend 91¶ĚĘÓƵ together. Some commute from nearby homes; some crossed the continent to get here; some are Mennonite, but many aren’t.

The 91¶ĚĘÓƵ database contains 46 family names associated with siblings enrolled in the fall of 2014. Three families have a trio of offspring enrolled, including two sets of parents who themselves graduated from 91¶ĚĘÓƵ: Steve and Lois Alderfer, class of 1986, parents of first-year Andrew, third-year Josh, and fourth-year Elizabeth; and Pat and Kathy King, class of 1981, parents of triplets who are sophomores, Emma, Isaac and Rachel. A third trio of sophomores includes Kennedy I. Okereke, and twins Chidera T. and Chinazo A. Nwankwo, children of Theodora Nwankwo.

“Something very profound takes place for both the family and the 91¶ĚĘÓƵ community when siblings share a common college narrative,” says , vice president for enrollment. “Experiencing Mennonite education can strengthen the family while at the same time benefiting the college with the sharing of their individual strengths and uniqueness.”

Not surprisingly, the largest cluster of siblings (14 sets) come from Harrisonburg and vicinity, but some siblings have traveled hundreds of miles in Virginia to attend 91¶ĚĘÓƵ, including a pair each from Bristol on the Tennessee border and from Chesapeake on the Atlantic.

Other home states of siblings: Pennsylvania (12 families in nine municipalities); Ohio (eight families, all in different locations), two sets of siblings from Maryland, and one set each from Goshen, Indiana; Wellman, Iowa; Rochester, New York; Plymouth, Minnesota; Puyallup, Washington; and Charles Town, West Virginia.

The 46 surnames of siblings culled from 91¶ĚĘÓƵ’s database in October 2014 are: Alderfer, Baltimore, Barrett, Beachy, Bills, Bishop, Blosser (two different families), Clemens, Cox, Driediger, Dutcher, Ferrell, Gallardo, Gish, Gonzalez, Graber, Hartzler, Jones, Kauffman, King, Kiser, Kratz, Longenecker, Luther, Mack-Boll, Mansoor, Martin, Mast, Miller, Mumaw, Myers, Nafziger, Nussbaum, Okereke, Patterson, Poplett, Raber, Salladay, Shenk-Moreno, Sprunger, Treichel, Trotter, Weaver, Wengerd, Ygarza, and Yoder.

Interviews with three sets of 91¶ĚĘÓƵ siblings yielded this common thread: They tend to maintain separate identities and friend groups, while supporting and inspiring one another – be they healthcare providers like the Ardrons, budding psychologists like the Treichels, or activist musicians like the Popletts.

“Even though the siblings may have very different experiences here, they will have the same alma mater, a bond which will benefit both themselves and our entire community over the long term,” observes Hartman.

The Ardrons

Last year, the three Ardron brothers – Austin, Adrian, and then first-year student Aaron – all commuted to campus from their home in Fishersville, 30 miles south of Harrisonburg. The attraction of 91¶ĚĘÓƵ was its strong reputation in and .

With both a mother and a father who are nurses, the Ardron brothers come from a family of healers. Among their immediate and extended family are more nurses, pharmaceutical representatives, physical therapists, an ophthalmologist, and a pediatric allergist.

“It’s just what we’re drawn to … we’re good at medicine, at making people feel better,” says Austin, who wrapped up his 91¶ĚĘÓƵ coursework this summer, passed his nursing boards, and started as a registered nurse at the University of Virginia (UVa) hospital – all within 30 days.

As the first to enroll, Austin came to 91¶ĚĘÓƵ because of the “holistic approach” to nursing, which emphasizes emotional as well as physical healing. Now working on the medical-surgical floor, Austin applies this mindset to patient advocacy, what he terms “explaining in human terms what the doctor just said.” He also values his ability to be a comforting presence and “that extra safety net for the patient” before procedures.

Austin’s older brother, Adrian, started at the College of William and Mary and circulated among a couple of university settings and majors before following Austin into the nursing program. Also a 2014 graduate, he now works as a registered nurse in UVa’s urology, surgery and burns unit.

Aaron based his college decision partly on his brothers’ positive experience. The pre-med major was also impressed by 91¶ĚĘÓƵ graduates’ nearly 90 percent acceptance rate into medical school.

Commuting from home has allowed the Ardron brothers to gain work experience, and to maintain close ties to their family and their Seventh Day Adventist church.

Austin paid his way through school by working as a nurse’s aide at UVa. For all four years of college, he attended school Monday through Friday, and worked 20 hours over the weekend.

Aaron’s extracurricular activities take the form of church leadership: he is a head deacon at his family’s church. The Seventh Day Adventists’ calling is “to help heal, help promote growth,” he says. That environment shaped his interest in helping people through medicine. After many years of schooling, he hopes to carry on the family’s healing tradition as a healthcare professional in an intensive care or trauma setting, perhaps as a cardiac or ocular surgeon.

The Treichels

Shawn and Kevin Treichel’s childhood instilled in them a fascination with the human mind and an appreciation of brotherhood. From Kevin’s perspective, many people coming to college see their siblings as an annoyance, and their family as a constrictive atmosphere to leave behind. But the Philadelphia-raised brothers grew up without an intact family to chafe gently against – they were in and out of foster care.

Some students enter college lacking independence and resilience. Not these brothers, says Shawn: “We’ve been to youth delinquent centers for a year at a time …We can do college!” (In the Philadephia area, the centers often double as temporary homeless youth shelters.)

Shawn was the first to learn about 91¶ĚĘÓƵ. His family began attending a Mennonite church after an event flyer was posted on their door. Through that youth group, he became acquainted with Lani PrunĂ©s ’14. Her descriptions of 91¶ĚĘÓƵ helped sway him from the original conviction that he would not pursue post-secondary education. He is now a third-year major whose studies may lead to ; however, he’s waiting to see what opportunities life brings: “I’ve never really had a straight and narrow path,” he explains.

Kevin is also at 91¶ĚĘÓƵ because of those church connections. He came in knowing he wanted to go into nursing, and liked 91¶ĚĘÓƵ’s reputation in that field. Specifically, he says, “I want to work in a psychology setting with children.” He plans to attend graduate school for a masters in applied behavioral analysis.

“The end goal is to have the knowledge and the context in order to take a much more holistic approach towards psychology than I ever witnessed myself,” he says.

Coming to 91¶ĚĘÓƵ, the Treichels had to adapt to both small-city living and local culture. If they drive five minutes in their home setting, they’ve made two blocks; if they drive five minutes here, they’re in a cornfield. Neither of the brothers see themselves returning to Philadelphia. “Been there, done that,” says Kevin.

Wherever their careers take them, the Treichels express appreciation for having attended 91¶ĚĘÓƵ simultaneously and maintaining their mutually supportive relationship.

“It would probably be weirder not being on campus with my brother,” says Kevin. “Due to our specific circumstances, we learned pretty early the value of relying on family.”

Yet, he adds, 91¶ĚĘÓƵ might still be the right choice for siblings who don’t feel as close as he and Shawn. “The [campus] world’s not as small as you might think it is.”

The Popletts

Alicia and Katrina Poplett, of Plymouth, Minnesota, grew up immersed in music, listening to their mother playing piano. Competition between the two young violinists became “a quite contentious part of our lives!” says Katrina, who switched to the viola in eighth grade. Thereafter they played together in school and in Mennonite church groups with less angst.

In the high school pit orchestra, the year before Alicia left for 91¶ĚĘÓƵ, “we started becoming friends,” says Katrina.

Alicia is now a junior majoring in and .

After two years of visiting her sister on campus and feeling “very at home here,” Katrina arrived this fall to study .

Again attending school together, the two have built upon their high school bond, sharing yoga classes and musicianship.

Yoga is Alicia’s interest, but “Katrina begrudgingly comes along,” Alicia says. “She has a lot of strengths, but sitting still and perhaps balancing are not some of them.” The two exchange smiles over antsiness and arduous poses during class.

The sisters also still practice music together, their individual skill augmented by the ability to read one another well. Sometimes, though, they still need to take breaks to cool down between instrumental arguments.

The sisters hope to enter humanitarian work after graduation. Alicia imagines teaching overseas or in an inner city school – “somewhere that would continue to challenge me!” Katrina sees herself working with women and children in a foreign context.

Wherever they go, the sisters want to make a difference, a goal that stems from their upbringing: “We were raised to be involved and to be present where you are,” says Katrina. An example of this was their recent participation in the New York City People’s Climate Rally on Sept. 21. “It took stamina!” says Alicia, of the three-mile walk with more than 400,000 participants.

Their mantra of presence and involvement also applies to their relationship.  Alicia recommends attending college with a sibling, as it’s an interesting way “to both grow together.”

Katrina has especially appreciated the presence of someone who knows her well as she transitions to university life. The hardest thing about starting college, she explained, is the absence of peers who know you deeply. Even though Alicia has been Katrina’s “in” to social networks, people on campus do not treat the sisters as one unit.

“You are related, but you’re your own person,” says Katrina.

The basics about cross-cultural

Each academic year 91¶ĚĘÓƵ offers three or four semester-long cross-cultural programs to destinations all over the world. At some point during their time in college, slightly over half of all 91¶ĚĘÓƵ students study overseas for a semester. Additionally, up to a half dozen three- to six-week programs are offered every summer.

Between the two options, a large majority of students at 91¶ĚĘÓƵ study abroad to fulfill its requirement for cross-cultural education, and the remainder have a supervised cross-cultural experience nearer to home. It’s a distinctive, long-standing and wildly popular part of the curriculum.

“We overwhelmingly hear from alumni that this is one of the best things that they did as an undergraduate because of the life experience and the self-understanding that they gain, the perspective [and] the language skills,” says , assistant to .

After surveying several dozen students recently returned from an overseas cross-cultural, we’ve compiled a list of the most common reasons students look back on the experience as one of the best of their college years.

1. Gain new self-confidence

Getting from A to B in a strange place is part of every cross-cultural, and students find it’s a fantastic way to build confidence in their abilities to navigate new life situations.

“After riding many trains, planes, and automobiles – and one camel – I now have the confidence and know-how to travel by myself to just about any destination,” says Emma King ’15.

Nursing major Afton Vanderwarker ’15 says being “able to function completely independently for the first time in my life on our week of free travel … showed me how much I’m capable of and that I really can go anywhere and do anything in the world.”

2. Learn a language

Many cross-culturals include formal language study as well as an immersion experience with another language. There’s no better way to learn.

“I left knowing zero Spanish and returned able to speak enough to have conversations with host families and most people I met on the street,” says Alex Witmer ’15.

3. Make new friendships from home that will last forever

“I left the U.S. with a group of strangers and came back with a family,” says Rebekah Graham ’13.

Expect to form tight, long-lasting bonds with the other students in your group. Emma King ’15 explains why: “They were the ones who helped you carry your bag up a mountain. They ate the same sketchy looking soup with the unidentifiable green stuff in it that you did. They can now speak a foreign language just as badly as you can and laugh along with you when you accidentally ask a shop owner for a kiss rather than asking for their attention. They know all your embarrassing digestion stories. They are the people that know you at your best and at your worst.”

4. Form friendships abroad, gaining insights into the world

“I am still in contact with people from Syria to Palestine that I met through home stays and our living experiences, as well as [having] connections with people from places such as Guam and Ukraine that I made during free travel,” says ’13.

Syria and Ukraine have been spending a lot of time in the international headlines lately; Nafziger’s contacts there have given him greater understanding of the events putting those countries in the media spotlight.

5. Expand your food horizons

Chances are good you’ll eat things you’ve never heard of before (e.g., chocobananos), and maybe things you’d never considered food before (e.g., chicken feet). And, chances are good, you’ll be very glad you had the opportunity.

“The street food which we were warned not to eat was the best food I’ve ever had in my life,” says Vanderwarker. “I’d fly back for street food.”

6. Do things you couldn’t possibly do at home

Hike Spain’s Camino de Santiago! Swim with sea lion pups! Tour the Colombian countryside by motorcycle! Students come back from their cross-cultural with memories to last a lifetime.

“I got to visit Hobbiton [movie set in New Zealand], which was the greatest day of my life,” says Bonnie Fisher ’14.

Kaitlin Heatwole ’11 spent her free-travel hiking a section of the Israel National Trail, hampered by a lack of English-language maps. The best one she and her friends could find wasn’t great – imagine using a road atlas to hike the Appalachian Trail – and they did indeed go a bit astray. But gummy bear candy kept spirits high and they made it to the end intact, on time, and the better for it.

7. Change your life forever, and for the better

Talk to students who have been on a cross-cultural, and you’ll hear some variation of this over and over:

“This semester abroad marked one of the greatest times of my life – challenging, but beautiful,” says Annie Dutcher ’08. “My time in Guatemala and Mexico was completely life-altering in all the best ways. I credit 91¶ĚĘÓƵ and this trip with opening my eyes to life outside of the U.S.”

Here are a few more take-aways:

“Even now, almost 15 months after returning to the U.S., I continue to strive for that sense of profound engagement with the world around me that I felt while on cross-cultural, and struggle to find ways to step outside of comfortable American life.” – Meg Smeltzer Miller ’13

“I learned how to choose to be content in each and every situation, no matter how difficult.” – Caitlyn Suttles ’13

“It did make me more reflective and thoughtful in my daily life. I don’t go a day without thinking of Honduras and the struggles those people face each and everyday.” – Patrick Campbell ’12, MA ’14

“If you want to leave college feeling like you’ve learned something and changed who you are in the best ways, cross cultural is the path you want to take. It’s a struggle but every moment – the hours in language class, the weight gain, the homesickness – is totally worth every penny and drop of sweat.” – Lani PrunĂ©s ’14

More info about cross-cultural

Learn more about cross-cultural study abroad at 91¶ĚĘÓƵ on the program website,Ěýstudent blogs and our .

All along, Colombia’s leading politicians have told the leaders of displaced peoples in rural regions to be quiet about their struggle to survive. Last April, the governor of the Bolivar region, Juan Carlos Gossain, asked the Montes de María communities not to march for the beliefs they carry alongside them every day, not to lay down their tools for a week for the sake of the land they love.

His request was denied.

I arrived at the gathering of Montes de MarĂ­a campesinos, with another undergraduate from 91¶ĚĘÓƵ and “Seeders” from , all of us desiring to support this quest for social justice. As I slipped from the back of the tiny motorcycle that had brought me to the bottom of this mountain through the rain and mud, the first thing I saw were small mounds of supplies and tall signs.

The signs said things like “Por la reperacion integral” and “La Montaña se mueve,” or “For integral reparations,” and “The mountain moves.” The small mounds consisted of cloth bags of yucca and ñ˛ąłľ±đ and piles of firewood, necessary to feed the protesters. The area was alive; groups of people discussing the plans, announcements made through a loudspeaker hidden among the crowd. Droves of motorcycles dropped people off, adding to the ever-constant stream of people and provisions. Trucks weighed down with families rushed down the mountain, the people aboard scattering to learn news or set up hammocks nearby.

Hundreds walking to ask for help

Over 700 people gathered at Arroyo de Arena, most campesinos, farmers originally from the Montes de María, a community of hundreds of families. Decades ago, inhabitants of those communities fled their homes for fear of their lives, caught between warring militias and government-backed soldiers. Their return to their land was fraught with challenges: confusion over land titles, lack of medical care and schools, and general unemployment. On top of that, a relentless fungus has decimated what was a major source of income, their avocado crops – without government assistance, farmers cannot revive this major cash crop.

The five-day plan? Walk 70 miles, from where we met to Cartagena, where community leaders planned to meet with government officials in the hope of winning an agreement for better support for the Montes de MarĂ­a communities. And walk we did on that first day, from 6 a.m. to 4 p.m. in the blazing Colombian sun. People sang to accordionists and shared snacks of cheese bread and made sure water got around to everyone. Determination seeped from every pore and touched every community we walked through, flags and signs waving high, cheers and chants breaking the rural calm.

However, the plan changed once the governor of Bolivar sent delegates to assure us that he wanted to talk, and that he would even come to us at our resting point in San Jacinto at the end of the first day. When GossaĂ­n arrived, he spoke for well over an hour, assuring the crowd of how much he cared about each of their communities, but that walking the entire way would be a waste. If everyone could talk here, why walk for another four days?

Meanwhile, we gringas meandered around the San Jacinto school, wondering where to stay overnight, while exploring and speaking to the children, who were not shy about expressing their opinions and asking questions. We watched the groups of cooks make meals for the entire group out of the collected and shared food, and were stared at curiously by the volunteers providing security at the schoolyard entrance, placed there so people from the nearby community would not come in and eat the food or stir up trouble.

Warm hospitality to us, with food shared

Eventually, some people came forward and asked us where we were from. We explained that we were in solidarity with their cause and were there to help in any way we could. The group extended warm hospitality to us, inviting us to accordion battles and romantic ballads, and giving us bigger portions of yucca and beef and rice. At night, hundreds of people set up a web of hammocks in the nearby forest, and we did likewise. The people around us saw our dreadful attempts at tying hammocks, commented loudly that we would never sleep well hanging like that, and retied them for us, every time. They stared at our cross-cultural reading material, tried sneakily listening in as we answered questions in clumsy Spanish about American culture, and showed us pictures of their relatives in the States.

Around us, discussions were being held with the heads of various government agencies. Some governmental leaders blamed farmers for their dead avocado crops. Assurances were made for a health clinic on one side of the mountain. The Montes de MarĂ­a leaders insisted their people were prepared to continue walking as planned if their demands were not met.

GossaĂ­n made a bold announcement that the local government was already working on many of their demands, and that the president himself would come talk to them in a month to settle on the issues.

Given such a promise, the leaders then decided there was no point in continuing the protest, so the hammocks were taken down, the pots cleaned and stacked, and the groups assembled. A sense of triumph filled the air as people boarded air-conditioned buses supplied by the governor after the leaders demanded them.

Government cracking down, not helping

Sadly, as of mid-September 2013 – five months after the suspended march – the demands and needs of displaced communities still are not being met in Colombia, according to the organization Sembrandopaz. (This organization was founded by Ricardo Esquivia in 2005 to support justice and peacebuilding in Montes de María and the Caribbean region of Colombia.) Campesinos are currently striking, directly affecting the country’s economy, because the government has ignored their cries. Movement leaders from the Montes de María have been thrown in a high security prison or accused of being guerrilla leaders in order to scatter blame where it is not deserved.

I have no doubt that through their current strife, Colombia will see a day where the belittled and forgotten will be respected and regarded as crucial by not only its government, but by its people. This faith lives on within those who remember that Colombia thrives on the labor and resilience of the campesinos, that those communities have bonds that cannot be broken with prison walls and death threats, and that after the bad times – after the rain and the mud and the suffering – must come a time of peace and equality, from the coastal fisherman to the mountain farmer, and all the advocates in between.

* * * *

Editor’s note: Long-time peace activist Ricardo Esquivia is at great risk in Colombia at the present time. In an alert emailed Sept. 18, 2013, Jess Hunter-Bowman of Witness for Peace (led by 91¶ĚĘÓƵ alum Sharon Hostetler ’80) said that following Esquivia’s involvement in the Montes de MarĂ­a community movement, the military has arrested one of his fellow leaders and likely also will be arresting Esquivia on concocted charges of being a guerrilla leader. For more information, visit the .

I am the daughter of Puerto Rican parents, born and raised in Philadelphia. Yes, I belong to a Mennonite church, but it’s one recently planted in a working class area of Philly – housed in a former health clinic surrounded by chain-link fence, immersed in the sights and sounds of the city, quite unlike the more common scenic Mennonite churches.

I wanted a college that somewhat resembled my high school in size, which held under 600 students, a rarity in the city. My parents wanted me to attend a school with positive Mennonite ties, and I wanted to go somewhere far away, to a place that was new and different. So, 91¶ĚĘÓƵ it was.

My story is not too different from two other current students from Philly at 91¶ĚĘÓƵ, or from an older alumnus who was raised in Philadelphia and returned to work there as a physician. For all four of us, coming to 91¶ĚĘÓƵ was a jolt, what with the cultural and geographic differences, but we emerged with a deep appreciation for the values and lifestyle of 91¶ĚĘÓƵ’s semi-rural setting.

Jolt of Quiet Lifestyle

Christian Parks, a junior, said he wanted a place where he could continue his Christian education, at a college vastly different than his home city. “I love being in the Shenandoah [Valley], with all the connections and proximity to nature we have here.”

Freshman Shawn Treichel came to 91¶ĚĘÓƵ with similar intentions. Treichel wanted a smaller school setting to counter the “crazy city” he had called home off and on for many years. Treichel added that the happiness of Shenandoah residents, as well as their care for their town, was what made him feel most at home.

Sure, both students could easily name the things they missed while at school, such as reliable public transportation, the plethora of convenience stores, reading on the bus, the sounds of trains. But after the difficult initial transition, they said 91¶ĚĘÓƵ instilled a sense of belonging, giving them an appreciation for its one-of-a-kind feel. Parks and Treichel agreed they wanted to continue living in small, community-centered towns that feel welcoming, though neither has settled on a future career. Parks is majoring in philosophy and theology, and Treichel is a computer science major.

came to 91¶ĚĘÓƵ, thinking he would never return to live in Philadelphia. Encouraged by his parents, Leaman, a 1993 graduate who is now a medical doctor, chose 91¶ĚĘÓƵ for its well-known with the hope of doing medical missions overseas after graduating, far from his hometown.

Leaman’s transition to 91¶ĚĘÓƵ was less intimidating than it might be for the typical city-soaked teenager ­– he was familiar with rural Mennonite life from visiting relatives.

Urban Pace Missed

Spring break service trips to New York, however, made Leaman yearn for the city. “It was like coming home,” he said. “I realized how much I missed having relationships with people from a range of racial backgrounds and experiences. I missed the liveliness and pace of energy of the urban life and experience.”

After graduating, Leaman took time to lead a group with to Mexico. While there, he felt the call to get his medical degree, and to do this in Philadelphia. He is now a supervising doctor at , which provides everything from counseling to dental care for those facing the largest barriers towards better health.

Leaman credits his time in bucolic Harrisonburg, where his professors at 91¶ĚĘÓƵ encouraged him to pursue leadership roles, starting in Mexico and moving back to medical school and serving the population of his old neighborhood in Philadelphia.

Safety, Comfort in Harrisonburg

If you are from an area where there are more people than trees, you will understand when I say that 91¶ĚĘÓƵ can be like stepping into a new world, a new culture. In Philadelphia, my everyday was skyscrapers, ever-constant sounds, and bustling activity. Meanwhile 91¶ĚĘÓƵ, surrounded by hills, farmland, and winding roads, can often feel wide, silent, even humdrum.

No amount of previous experiences in rural locations could prepare a city kid for living in the country eight months out of the year. And yet, Harrisonburg, among many things, emits a sense of safety and comfort that is almost ungraspable in the city, creating a sense of welcome despite the unfamiliarity.

For me – and it seems for my three fellow Philadelphians – 91¶ĚĘÓƵ is a place unlike any other. It builds up future leaders, whether they know it when they graduate or not, and creates a sense of community that begs to be repeated. Myself, I hope to bring the best of 91¶ĚĘÓƵ back to Philadelphia, where I plan to re-settle after my 91¶ĚĘÓƵ sojourn is over.

The transition here may be difficult for some, what with the tallest building in the valley being a feed mill, and the only train in town screaming its early arrival each morning. Yet, the challenges faced in the difficulty are what make 91¶ĚĘÓƵ worth each step to class, each quiet day, and each breath of fresh mountain air.

Hello. My name is Lani, and I am a writing major. No need to be alarmed. I am just like you, only one day I’ll graduate with a major so superior, interviews will be held in banquet halls around tables laden with nectar and ambrosia, and all job offers will be inscribed on gold flecked parchment.

Do not believe me? Stop and think of how important writing is in our daily lives. We write papers and essays. We write labs and reports. We write notes, letters, and e-mails creating excuses as to why we missed class on Monday at 8 a.m. Professors write lectures and assignments, and we respond to them with notes and reading-responses.

Besides speech, smoke signals, and body language, like the indications the awkward sophomore in your life wellness class wants to be more than project partners, writing is a huge part in how we communicate with one another. One spelling mistake signals “jbdkds,” or juvenile skill, and longer flowing language points to one having a vast knowledge of the English language, hence creating the manifestation of an intellectual.

Being a writing major means I get to take truly enjoyable classes, such as Creative Writing and Poetry, as well as classes with more broad subjects, such as News and Feature, which covers a span of professional writing styles, not just journalism.

Being one the first to pick up the major, I had not a single moment of doubt. What job does not need a writer in its office, company, or space station? Writing majors can find employment in advertising, business, and counseling; and those are just the beginning of the alphabet of opportunities. There is teaching, the sciences, law, and just about every establishment could use a trustworthy editor for all its publishing needs.

Still not sold? Consider this: the writing major can fit in with any other major you might wish to pair it with. With only 36 credit hours, the major was designed to be an adorable younger sibling of your larger major, rather than an obnoxious older sibling fighting for attention and credit time. If you’re an English major, you will have already noticed how simple it is to pick up the Writing major, as quite a number of the classes correlate and weave together effortlessly.

Writing majors can do internships that can easily be organized in conjunction with a communications degree, such as work on 91¶ĚĘÓƵ’s literary magazine, the Phoenix, the Shen yearbook, or the Weather Vane, one of the finest news establishments this side of the woods. I am currently doing an internship for my communications minor, and what am I doing? Writing. All of the internships above, while fun and extracurricular, can also be participated in for credits. Many of the above also happen to have fantastic advisors, have great music played during gatherings, and pizza is often fed to its staff. For these alone should you consider a change in life goals.

At the end of last semester, I was accepted into a program called Kairos Place, a week long writing retreat in a beautiful decked out cabin nestled in the countryside, complete with home theaters (yes, plural). Those of us accepted spent well over six hours a day writing in different parts of the cabin on our respective projects, interrupted for delicious meals we took turns creating. In the evenings we relaxed and played games and music. Being a writing major meant the possibility of receiving credit to have a week of free writing and great food.

Thanks to short hand texting and spell check, decent writers are about as hard to come by as succinct history professors. The reason universities have college writing on their core curriculums, and why 91¶ĚĘÓƵ has writing intensives, is because it appreciates the importance of writing as a part of academia and understands its importance both in and outside of a university setting.

As students and faculty, we know the difference between a paper written on three hours sleep, and one given time for proper research, editing, and care. This understanding of the power of writing extends to the professional world; being eloquent in both speech and text extends to that world, and is important whether you’re creating proposals for a new business, crafting a lesson plan for high school algebra, or handing in an article on why being a writing major was the best decision I could have made in my four years here.