a love letter to northwestern university

this weekend i had the pleasure of visiting my alma mater, northwestern university.  my husband's new musical had a reading hosted by the theatre department, which was a very cool full-circle moment, and we were excited to visit our old haunts (especially since we were there at the same time but didn't know each other until the last minute)!

and visit them we did -- old apartment buildings, old coffee and bagel shops, the best crab rangoon in evanston, etc.  it was poignant and nostalgic, because as everyone knows, you can't really ever go back.  evanston used to feel epic -- right next to a big city! home to one of the best schools in the country! the manifestation of the freedom of being eighteen years old!  coming from new york, it suddenly seemed quiet, with cozy low buildings and wide open streets.  the change in perspective threw into relief how far from my undergraduate years i really am.

part of the walk from the dance building to the engineering building (i did that a lot.)

i was extremely privileged to have such a college experience, and i loved it.  i loved making my own schedule, staying out until 3am, sleeping late, living with my girlfriends.  i loved love big ten football.  i loved wearing sweatpants every day and drinking enough coffee to keep me studying until dawn.  those things are a wonderful part of the american university experience, and i honestly cherished every minute of it.

but (cheese alert) ... northwestern shaped my adult experience in much deeper ways.

i went in, smart and arrogant and self-centered, and simultaneously unsure, open-minded, and honestly looking to learn.

it was the first time i created my own identity.  it was my first chance to claim "i'm good at this, and i love this, and this is what i want to do."  (it also forced me to acknowledge the things i was not good at, like achieving anything higher than a C in general chemistry, or, y'know, being cool.)  i was surrounded by peers doing the exact same thing.  professors saw my potential before i did, and gently guided me to discover it for myself and to shape that identity into a life.

it was at northwestern that i choreographed my first dance.  (and my second, after which my dance comp professor joyfully declared i wasn't "a one-trick pony!")  northwestern dance looked at me as a whole artist - a performer, a choreographer, and a scholar.

northwestern's technological institute.  

northwestern engineering looked at me like a vessel of potential to change the world.  a woman, a technically proficient mind, an engineer.

before this weekend's visit, i reached out last-minute to six of my professors, to see if i could stop in and say hello.  not only did they remember who i was, they all wrote me back within the day and carved time out of their day to sit down with me.  all of them!  i was floored by their generosity.  and one by one, as i sat in their offices at TI, at Tech, at the Ford building, each of them looked me in the eye as an empowered adult, as a fellow artist and professional in the world.  this isn't an anomaly -- this is what it is to be a student.  this is the generosity they showed me when i was enrolled, and the generosity they showed thousands of other undergrads, quarter after quarter.

i can't quite articulate why this was so profound for me, but the rote assumption-- still-- is that i'm a bona fide artist.  the assumption is that i'm an industrial engineer.  i didn't have to explain anything, or apologize for anything.  my teachers saw me (now as then) as 100% artist and 100% engineer, because i did the work and it's who i am.  not half-and-half.  not faking it.  not "used to be."

ford motor company engineering design building, northwestern university

it doesn't matter that none of my job titles right now has the word "engineer" in it.  it doesn't matter that i'm not in the studio creating physical work each and every day.  to a dance professor whose career i so admire, i said something like "well, i'm trying to make a go of it!" and he said "no, the doing it is the thing.  you're doing it.  this is it."  an industrial engineering professor of mine said (as if it were obvious) "you always liked to choreograph."  and we laughed, because of course i did!  industrial engineering and design is maybe the most "social" form of engineering.  we use technical tools to create social and human insights.  we create new solutions to existing challenges.  and isn't that what artists do?  engineer new works to create connections and offer questions/solutions?  so how disparate are these interests of mine, anyway?

northwestern offered me the self-confidence and the humility to contribute what i have, right now, and trust that it's good, and enough, and it isn't constrained by "should."

going back and catching up with those generous, wonderful people i was surrounded with for four years allowed me to see my experience again through that lens; i am unapologetically an engineer, an artist, and a human being with valuable things to contribute to the world.

and that's the important bit, right?  i can so viscerally remember what it was to be 22 and to not know.  but i was trusted to make a difference.  and now i'm 28 and i still don't know.  but i can still make a difference.  and what does it do to my life and my relationships to assume that everyone i pass on the street also doesn't know -- and to trust the endless potential of each individual?

this isn't unique to northwestern.  i know that.  but those four years were a powerful gift for me in discovering who i am, and who i want to be, and revisiting helped me recommit.

(go 'cats.)