Why I Chose Hillsdale – Corinne Prost
Written by Corinne Prost
As an American studies major with a deep fascination for Constitutional law, I consider myself a pursuer of truth and defender of liberty. For these reasons, I feel it necessary to clarify that I did not choose Hillsdale College for its political reputation. I chose Hillsdale for its song.
Once upon a time three years ago, I was a native Arizonian completely unaware that this little liberal arts college even existed and had already fallen in love with a different liberal arts college. Unfortunately, their tennis team was in a Division III conference, which meant they couldn’t offer me an athletic scholarship. While it seemed like the perfect choice, nothing fit into place.
As all this was happening, I received a message from my old tennis coach. She told me that her sister, the women’s tennis coach at Florida Atlantic University, had an assistant coach who moved to a liberal arts college in Michigan. Call it divine intervention or serendipity, but several other tennis opportunities also opened up in Michigan, and my mother and I decided to make the trip.
We arrived in Hillsdale several days before Halloween. The coach took us out to breakfast at the Coffee Cup Diner. While the morning was cold and rainy, the warmth of the diner and the coach made me overlook the dreary day. Our conversation was promising. Her firm belief that academics took priority over athletics combined with her passion for the team impressed me. Even so, I had my reservations. Downtown Hillsdale was barely larger than my cul-de-sac back home, and there was nothing around but farmland for miles. I couldn’t imagine what sort of education that a college situated in such a place could offer.
The car ride from the diner to central campus took less than five minutes. In the blur of fall leaves and rain, I caught glimpses of an eagle statue and beautiful old homes lined along the road. Something about the endless roads and walls of brick implied there was more to be explored, if only I would stay awhile. My curiosity piqued as we passed students walking to class. While the students at other campuses never really stood out to me, something about these students seemed purposeful and impressive.
Once we parked, one of the tennis players took me to sit in on a class. Much to my disappointment, it was a subject that I had zero interest in: music theory. I sat down and steeled myself for a dry PowerPoint lecture that I could tune out of. I remember that I even assumed the classic bored-student position: chin in hand, pen poised, eyes droopy. Then something miraculous happened—the professor began to speak, and I really listened. It struck me that she engaged the class from the start by asking questions and challenging the students’ assumptions.
The entire class was dynamic. The professor would play beautiful music, and rather than let the symphony peter out and die under the weight of mechanical explanations, she coaxed out from the students what was to be learned from every piece. Her easy, unhurried conversation about the music made each song that much more beautiful. She even drew comparisons between the music and unrelated studies like science and math—making the driest subject I could imagine interesting and worthy of learning.
When class was dismissed, I followed my guide out into the crisp afternoon. As I watched the students around me, I became aware of what was to be discovered on Hillsdale’s campus: a song of life that hummed through the silence of studying and the laughter of friendship. It celebrated knowledge for its own sake and was evident in every student, professor, and faculty member in the College. Together, the campus formed a grand symphony.
I departed the next day for another college visit, but I no longer had interest in any other campus. Whenever I thought of Hillsdale, I felt a soft tugging at my heart. I didn’t wait to board my return flight home—I called my coach and committed right there in the terminal. Not a day went by my senior year where I didn’t imagine my life at Hillsdale; I could almost hear its sweet song.
Corinne Prost, class of 2019, is an American Studies major and rhetoric minor. She dreams to one day own a library so extensive that it rivals the one from Beauty and the Beast.