by Kenneth Paul Blake ’04

The summer I graduated, I returned home to California and felt that I had to explain Earlham’s ideals, its ranking, and its learning community to prospective employers as a plea to get hired. On paper, to someone who has never read Loren Pope’s "Forty Colleges that Change Lives," Earlham could have easily been one of those universities that mail its diplomas to anyone who requests one. I never went as far as to bring my transcript or a copy of my financial aid offer to prove that I had received a rich education, although it was distressing searching for employment in San Francisco where people with bachelor’s degrees regularly are rejected for jobs as office assistants and receptionists.

My father reminded me it did not matter that I did not have my ideal job directly out of college. It was more important that I made it, graduated with honors, and that this was a perfect time to enjoy the luxury of having a college degree. I knew that he was right, but I had spent the last four years of my life as an Earlhamite, a Bonner Scholar and I was ready to change the world. The first job I had that lasted more than two months was as a telephone banking representative with Bank of America. I was hired the day I applied and it was frustrating that I knew I could have gotten this job out of high school. However, the position afforded me the privilege of not taking on too much responsibility and I began a venture that I would not have cared about had it not been for my Earlham education.

Earlham’s mission statement boasts of instilling the value of being a life-long learner to prospective students, current students, and alumni; it was not until I left the college that I understood and accepted myself as a “mini-intellectual.” In my mind professors like Barb Caruso, Phyllis Boanes, Gordon Thompson, and both Paul and Mary Lacey were intellectuals. Even though I am literally taller than them, I can only aspire to think and read like them – so I am a “mini” intellectual, the junior whopper of Burger King if you will. I began to read all the books I had started, thought of reading, or wanted to read. I had no intention of writing a paper on them, or preparing for a comprehensive exam, but to consider the ideas, actions, and viewpoints of another person. I finally read "Frankenstein," "How the Garcia Girls Lost their Accents," "The Bean Trees," "The Lost Language of Cranes," "Mysterious Skin," "Running with Scissors," "Black Girl in Paris," "A Million Little Pieces" followed by "My Friend Leonard" and the entire "Tales of the City" series. I was at a used bookstore in Berkeley every weekend and spent entire days reading and writing at Café Flor in San Francisco. It did not matter that my job did not allow for me to buy a house my first year out of college. My job did, however, keep me in used books, BART tickets, and enough money to drink coffee and tea all day at café’s.

A year after I left Earlham, I finally encountered someone — aside from a friend or family member — who recognized the name Earlham. I was interviewing for a position with the Admissions office at California State University, East Bay and the vice president of Enrollment Services looked at my resume, looked at me, and remarked, “Earlham College? I think that is the best kind of education a young man can receive.” A week later I was hired, was being paid on a salary instead of by the hour, and decided that I would take advantage of the fee waiver program so that I could earn my MA in English while I worked.

I miss Earlham. I will always miss Earlham. I think about how I want to return, someday, to sit on the bench in front of OA where I once considered going back home during my first year, to see whether or not there is still my inscription of “K-Dawg likes to read here” on one of the basement tables in Lily, to hear the sound of the leaves cracking under my feet in the fall, or hear the wind outside Quaker meeting during the spring. Whether or not the actual campus looks different I will remember how it looked as I left: welcoming - despite the fact that I was heading the opposite direction on National Road.