Learning to love Lehigh

Growing up 15 minutes from Lehigh, I learned early on how to avoid it.

I couldn’t physically avoid the school — my mother worked at Lehigh and wouldn’t allow that — but I kept my distance emotionally. By my sophomore year of high school, when my family and guidance counselors asked about my college plans, I said I wanted to go somewhere far away, like New York or Boston.

All I knew was that I wanted to leave the Lehigh Valley.

“I would never even consider Lehigh,” I used to say. 

My mother had dragged me to plenty of alumni events as part of her work in alumni relations, and for the first time, I saw how accomplished Lehigh alumni were.

And it scared me.

As far as I was concerned, Lehigh was too close, too smart and too small. I thought college was supposed to feel like an escape, and Lehigh felt like the opposite.

I knew from a young age that I wanted to study communications, and Lehigh doesn’t offer a mass communications major.

So why would I attend a school that doesn’t have what I want to study?

Syracuse University was my first choice going into my junior year. Its sports communications program was strong, I had family in New York and the campus had the “home away from home” feeling I thought I wanted.

But then my junior prom was held on Lehigh’s campus.

I arrived at the venue at 8 p.m., and by 9 p.m., I found myself wandering around campus in four-inch heels. 

Something about the Clayton University Center, covered in construction, caught my attention. Standing in front of the building, I Googled, “Is Lehigh’s journalism/communications program good?”

What I found surprised me.

Lehigh’s journalism program had everything I was looking for: accredited professors, a nationally ranked newspaper and classes in sports media.

Still, Lehigh felt like an extension of my mother’s work and my high school — two things I couldn’t see past.

I shook off the feeling I had standing outside of the Clayton University Center after prom and spent the summer looking at other schools.

But something kept bringing me back.

That fall, I took a psychology class at Lehigh through a dual-enrollment program.

Being on campus every other day, I realized Lehigh didn’t feel as small as I’d thought. On my walk from Rauch to the Business Innovation Building, I rarely saw the same person twice.

I also never saw my mother or anyone else she worked with. That feeling from junior year started to return.

My family began to convince me that 15 minutes from home could feel like hours if I wanted it to — because they believed Lehigh was where I needed to be.

So I submitted my Early Decision I application, not fully realizing it was binding.

Once I understood, I felt at peace knowing I would likely attend Lehigh.

When I got my acceptance in the parking lot of Parkland High School, I was thrilled. I’d finally accepted what everybody else in my life already knew.

Suddenly, there were only three months until move-in, and time seemed to move slower than ever.

On move-in day, as I hugged my dog goodbye, my mother told me she’d left her job at Lehigh.

It felt like the reason I’d grown to love this school was suddenly gone. I didn’t understand why she would ever want to leave.

After my first semester, I struggled to find reasons to love Lehigh. I began to think maybe I was meant to be somewhere else. Syracuse stayed on my mind, and visiting campus during winter break made me question my decision.

But just as leaving Lehigh was the right decision for my mother, she knew staying was the right choice for me. 

So I promised to give it one more year and take advantage of everything the university had to offer. 

Now, finishing my second year here, I have learned it’s OK to be unsure about what you want. Within that uncertainty, the school I once swore I’d never attend became the place I needed all along.