Hot Listing: Elon University
For most of my life, my preconceived notions about North Carolina were more or less limited to chewing tobacco and Jesse Helms.
And I’ve never had much use for either. I care deeply about dental hygiene and find homophobic bigots generally distasteful.
But Jesse is long dead and my teeth look great. So it was inevitable that this moment would find me: speeding west from Raleigh in the driver’s seat of an ice blue vintage Saab, Godmother in tow, on my way to visit Elon University.
Sure, several people from my high school attended college here. As a long haul counselor, I’ve delivered several fabulous kids to its doorstep. And its reputation is quite strong in the “industry.” But it had long stood as one of the few colleges I had never visited in person - the enigmatic haze of the rural South always vaguely clouding its place in my mind.
But here I am - finally, if not a tad begrudgingly.
Though ultimately: shame on me. Because this place is fabulous.
Straight out of the gate, the visit experience is tight, impressive and well choreographed (one of the best I’ve ever had) - but also so full of genuine heart. The campus is as immaculate and gorgeous as the day is long - it’s actually a registered botanical garden. The sense of place on these grounds is acute, remarkable - almost fantastic.
And they gifted me a fabulous t-shirt that is really quite slimming - very GQ. Is James Perse making their merch?
If that wasn’t enough, here are three key reasons to love Elon (even more):
It’s a sensational value. Full cost of attendance here hovers at just under $67,000 per year. It’s a bargain these days (which is shocking, I know). At many similarly profiled private institutions, the price tag runs roughly $25,000 more per year, sometimes more. Mic drop.
It has one of the best Musical Theater programs in the country. What can I say? I’m a sucker for splashy production numbers and a bit of easily resolved drama. Elon grads have been populating key theatrical roles - particularly on Broadway - for many years, including in Dear Evan Hansen and Tina. I also think the strength of this program adds another vivid dimension to the institutional culture and helps support a particular diversity in the community at large. You know: the kind of people that will, sporting a cropped tank top, belt Flowers as they sprint down a primely located Fitness Center treadmill - and then glitter bomb your whole Comp. Lit seminar, just for the hell of it. Sorry, Jesse.
Elon is showing up for Jewish students. It was one of only two schools to recently earn a solid “A” on the Anti-Defamation League’s new Campus Antisemitism Report Card. The other was Brandeis. This feat is so very important right now - and one made all the more remarkable given its Bible Belt location.
I would be remiss if I didn’t take a hot moment to state the obvious: the academics here are outstanding. And in my opinion, pretty underrated nationally. When you go you will learn about their finely articulated commitment to critical thinking and experiential learning, and their uniquely impactful model for fostering faculty/student mentorship relationships. This last bit is worth its weight in gold.
Accordingly, it's my sincere belief that the cultural center of this community is not the bravado or snobbishness that sometimes befalls selective colleges. Nor is it needless, exhausting academic competition (which is mishegoss anyway).
It’s the people. And wonderful people, to boot. The enclosure of the campus and its relative isolation only makes those connections - those people - better, it would seem. And the community: much more of a tightly held embrace.
The folks I met here were eclectic, but all electric - extroverted, smart and really approachable. Not a whiff of pretension. Personality and openness and kindness must be in the water. Fun, random strangers smiled at me on paths and held doors for me in just about every building. My tour guide, Owen, was a popstar, and even the other people on the tour were saucy and connective and smart and stylish - they were people I’d be friends with.
Speeding east on I-40, I accidentally cut off a guy in a huge F-150 with a Don't Tread on Me bumper sticker. Sorry, sir: I should have stayed in the right lane. But I was lost in thought: “had Elon been there the whole time?” Well yes, it had. So perhaps it was me. My own smallmindedness. My own rash judgment. Or perhaps, like most things and people: it’s only gotten better and more welcoming with age.
So go see Elon. Because the moment has come to stop being afraid of the deep South. And I volunteer to go first.
