I can still remember the suspense that I felt while sitting there at the desk in my dorm room during my first year in our nation’s capital. I looked out over the Potomac River, to the Lincoln Memorial and Washington Monument beyond, at a view that inspired me to do great things in the service of others. My long-held dream had supposedly come true: I was finally studying politics at Georgetown University. I thought that I had done everything “right” to lead me to that point. I had studied hard, volunteered on countless campaigns, been a good friend, and listened intently in class and at church. Yet I could not help but be overwhelmed by a sense that by crossing through the front gates of Georgetown’s campus, my life at home with my family and friends, shaped by a desire to make my community and the world a better place, had come to a close. A new life seemed to have begun. But making the most of a new life, in a new place, with new people, is a big task. I asked myself: Was I up for the challenge? What kind of person would I become?

Before I knew it, I met the best people to help me explore these big questions, and I learned that I was thinking about my calling at Georgetown all wrong. Spending time with my residential minister, Fr. Christopher Steck, working for the Jesuit community on campus, and heading on retreat taught me that my time at Georgetown wouldn’t be a time for reinventing myself but instead a time for refining who I was, whose I was, and what I was called to be. I will forever be grateful to Georgetown for “meeting me where I was” in this regard. I had resources in my dorm (a residential minister), on campus (a robust campus ministry and a meaningful employment opportunity), and beyond (a dedicated retreat center) to help me take stock of where I had been, where I was, and where I was called to go. 

My time at Georgetown wouldn’t be a time for reinventing myself but instead a time for refining who I was.

Through this discernment, I realized just how big of an adjustment coming to college really was, no matter if I had moved across the state or relocated across the world. It was time in which I would have to build a new network of supporters to celebrate with in times of triumph and to lean on in times of need. Yes, it would be important to make new friends and get involved in extracurricular activities, but it would also be important to find new mentors to guide me through this time in my life, whether they were in my shoes three years ago or 30 years ago. I found a role model in an upperclassmen leader of one of my favorite clubs, the admissions ambassador program. I found a space for solace with a professor who taught us her favorite stories from New York City in between recording book reviews for NPR. I found a springboard for ideas and decision-making in the priest of the neighboring parish who challenged me to consider the person I was and to develop different parts of my personality. 

One of the most crucial guides along my journey was our vice president for student affairs, Eleanor Daugherty. “Dr. Elly,” as I came to call her, taught me that making the most of my experience wouldn’t mean doing everything or doing the “right” things but making the experience better for myself and for others. By investing in this place like my mentors, professors, and peers were investing in me, I would make “the Hilltop” my home. This involved the tremendous opportunity to work alongside Dr. Elly and her team in Student Affairs on efforts to make communities across Georgetown feel a greater sense of inclusion. Whether entering into dialogue with students regarding what they needed to have more comfortable facilities on campus or expediting the implementation of gender-inclusive housing (not in spite but because of our Catholic and Jesuit mission), we have worked to make more people feel like they belong. That, in turn, is how I found my sense of belonging: by working to build and strengthen communities on our Hilltop and beyond.

By investing in this place like my mentors, professors, and peers were investing in me, I would make “the Hilltop” my home.

Now in my senior spring, as I prepare to graduate, I am happy to report that I did not become a new person during these four years. Instead, I became a smarter, kinder, more worldly, and harder working version of myself. Georgetown provided the people and the opportunities for me to discern just who I was and what I was called to be at my university. I pursued lifelong dreams, like working on Capitol Hill and studying abroad under the Tuscan sun, and picked up new practices, like caring for our bulldog mascot Jack and advising a university administrator. But I also left some things behind, all the while curating, not creating, my most joyful, authentic self. Through this process, my college experience was not transactional but, rather, transformational. This transformation was not unilateral, though. As I was becoming my more authentic self, I was helping my university to more authentically live its mission. 

Institutions of higher education can help students flourish by providing spaces for reflection and growth. These institutions can flourish, too, if they reflect upon their adherence to missions, open themselves to student and stakeholder feedback, and enable these groups to help in creating real change on campus. Even though I am filled with gratitude for my time as a student on the Hilltop, I hope that these are not the best four years of my life. In that same light, I hope that these are not the best four years for Georgetown. Instead, I hope I remember this as an informative time, full of high highs and low lows, when a new network of support formed around me in the shape of tremendous friends and mentors. A time when I learned not to be afraid to be myself and I found those who embraced me. A time when I learned to be present, to be patient, to trust, and to grow, and hopefully imparted these lessons onto Georgetown, too.

Michael C. Woch is a senior at Georgetown graduating this spring.