Wofford grew, and we followed suit

When the senior class was touring Wofford, the Rosalind Sallenger Richardson Center for the Arts was only a blueprint and a tract of dirt with a fence around the perimeter. By the spring of our freshman year, out of the mess of construction grew an impressive stark white building, home to multiple gallery rooms, a performing theater, classrooms, offices and my favorite: two Chihuly blown-glass sculptures of fiery red, yellow and orange hues.  

The basketball and volleyball teams played in the Benjamin Johnson Arena until our sophomore year, when the imposing Jerry Richardson Indoor Stadium opened: a stadium which would soon host the University of North Carolina Tarheels, the University of South Carolina Gamecocks, and other competitive teams; a stadium that prides itself on being the home court of the 2018-2019 men’s basketball team—who fans followed to Asheville, North Carolina, Jacksonville, Florida, and beyond to watch compete in March Madness.  

My FYI class was taught in Black Science Annex (BSA). Since then, it’s been torn down, and will be replaced by the Chandler Center for Environmental Studies: one (actually, large) step for Wofford, one giant leap for ENVS majors.  

Next fall, the first group of incoming students will move into Jerome Johnson Richardson Hall, which is currently a skeleton waiting to become brick and mortar. 

The list goes on. 

All this being said, our campus has undergone a major facelift in the past four years. I’d like to say the same of myself and my classmates. 

As to my personal growth, I’ve really improved my noodle-cooking skills over the past four years. As a senior in high school, I learned the hard way that you make one batch of sticky spaghetti noodles and your friends never let you live it down. Living in an apartment in the senior village has finally permitted me the kitchen space to be able to redeem myself. So that’s a win. 

Along with becoming better cooks, cheerleaders, academics and athletes, I’ve watched Wofford move in people, stir them up and make them squirm, propel them forward into positions we once associated with upperclassmen who are now alumni.  

And now we’re the presidents and leaders, captains and chairs, because we were moved in that weird way that comes with the territory.  

Aside from the titles we’ll decorate our resumes with, though, I’ve found recently that I’ve been most impressed by my peers in conversations that start off something like ‘you know what I’ve been thinking about?’ when titles slough away and what’s left is raw, vulnerable and real. I really get a kick out of these conversations when I think back to how unlikely they would’ve been to occur three years ago, for various and sundry reasons. And I’m convinced that change is, as the cliché goes, for the best. 

A change of scenery: rural North Carolina to Prague, Czech Republic; a change of majors: biology (pre-med) to psychology; a change of heart: medicine to music; a change of plans: working out by yourself to walking onto Wofford athletics. These changes have shaped us in incredible, and often laughably uncomfortable, ways.  

So here’s to reflecting on the change within and without that we’ve witnessed and worn, and here’s to the change that we all have to look forward to.