Why Grinnell? This question was at the top of my frequently asked list. After four months, I am not sure if I can justify it any better than how I did before coming here. Small scale, great academics, residential program and all the other charms of the liberal arts education that is now so near and dear to my heart.
I remember my fellow classmates and I each announcing proudly, “I am going to South Korea!” “I am going to Chile!” “I am finally going to live my Sally Rooney dream life and go to Trinity! Oh, and you?” “Yeah, I am going to Grinnell!” I said with the same excitement, only that I got way more crickets, confused looks and unhidden judgment. From that point onwards, I kept trying to convince people that there is more in Iowa than just corn and… well, corn. Maybe I needed to repeat this as a mantra for myself as well, to be reassured that my decision was not invalid.
Then came mid-August 2024, with all its anticipation, excitement and anxiety, and it was time to step out of comfort zones — except for a comforting souvenir I brought with me, my fellow exchange student Merel. She and I have been great friends ever since our own new student orientation week in Leiden University College (LUC). It was a complete coincidence that after two years of living in LUC’s buzzing bubble in the very heart of The Hague, we both got the opportunity to experience a different bubble — this time, in Grinnell.
Looking out the windows of the school shuttle, my first time on an American highway, I was stunned. Oh god, what if there is only corn? I didn’t see anything else so far. Eventually, the list expanded. Super low toilets, truck tires taller than me standing on my tallest tiptoes and of course the consumerist maze of Walmart, where Merel and I shared the historic moment of tasting our first ever Pop-Tart.
Exchange students? So, like, you transferred from somewhere? Wait, you are only here for this semester? What is your Tutorial? Oh… so you are not a first year, right, right, okay so… exchange students? Got it.
But for a long time, nobody actually got it. And maybe we didn’t either. I was reminded of the absurdity many times, having to explain to people that yes, I have chosen Grinnell, the Jewel of the Prairie and yes, there are things other than corn. While many of my classmates chose their exchange destination based on location, I chose mine for the endless opportunities Grinnell offers for self-determination.
I spent a great chunk of my time here in the Careers, Life and Service (CLS) building, where every single person was there to empower my own ideas about the capital-L Life I am about to be thrown into. No one in academia has ever helped me craft my path as much as the CLS has — they treated me just like any other Grinnellian facing an existential crisis.
Then — part of the honeymoon phase — we looked around and saw friendships evolving, communities community-ing, the full American Dream unfolding, me immersing myself in my Rory Gilmore semester…could it get better than this? Is this heaven? No, it’s Iowa. And proudly, I traded my dark blue university sweater for the burning red Grinnell merch.
There were no other exchange students, no one in the same boat as we were paddling in — and we had to paddle hard, make a new space of our own in such a short time. Maybe it was for the better that we were just thrown into the full Grinnellian experience. Still, we remained in the strange in-between — can someone feel isolated and included at the same time? I still wonder. We already knew the good old liberal arts college dynamics all too well. But Grinnell was a first just like for all other first-years.
Having moved several times, I used to think home was people, a community. But sometimes it’s not even that. You can find peace and ease in smaller elements.
You don’t even need to be in a clique — Grinnell needs more reminders of that. You just have to click with a few things or people. Home is actually the most fluid thing ever — many think of it as solid, a fixed place or places that can mean only one thing. The moment you look at home as a synonym for accepting change, you are going to feel much homier. It’s not about candles, pillows or fairy lights; it’s about embracing change.
Of course, I have met people in Grinnell whose brilliance helped me find home way easier. Some brought me joy, always being up to having a D-hall meal together or a picnic next to Younker; some welcomed me to visit their magical hometown during the October bliss, some took me on small trips, poetic nature walks, or were one of the very few who initiated conversation within the classroom — and one even became my brother-away-from-home. I will cherish forever the amazing town folks who cared for me as if they were my own parents, who invited me into their homes and made me feel like I belonged here.
Sense of belonging is often a central inquiry, especially if you are a humanities person like me, but I think it’s overrated. Only you can make yourself belong somewhere; it is an active choice that is guided by your everyday actions. I could have stayed and worn that dark blue sweater, but I decided that red is the new blue.
There is something about the word exchange that makes me reflect on not just what I have gotten out of this experience but what I have brought and given to Grinnell. What have we exchanged?
Now, we are forced into goodbye — you, Grinnell, a weird jewel of this corn kingdom that has been so good to me, and I, just a short-lived exchange student who hopes to give love and gratitude back, even if it was a short fever dream.
No matter where you are, you will struggle. Ride the rollercoaster of homesickness, unfamiliarity, a bursting excitement for everything that’s new. Then things quiet down when you listen to those around you and realize they are your people now. Taking comfort in your changing self is your lifeline now. Everything new will be scary and everything scary is new, but only until you find home.
