It was almost by accident that I considered transferring from Capital.
It was November of 2015, my freshman year, my first November at school. My friend Logan had been bothering me somewhat jokingly for the better part of the year about transferring, but I had shaken it off and told myself that I was sticking with Capital.
It wasn’t until I was looking for an embarrassing picture of Logan with his school mascot on their website that I stumbled over their list of majors. Upon further review, this school had a minor in public history, which was pretty much what I wanted to do with my life. I suddenly had a legitimate reason to consider transferring schools.
From that moment forth, I began to weigh the pros and cons as I saw them. I had spent a weekend with Logan in October, and the building in which he lived was far nicer than mine. He also had a good group of friends, some of which I intended on getting to know better if I did indeed transfer. This was something I didn’t have. I had many friends, but no real core group, no “squad.” These conclusions gave me an effective starting point for making my decision.
The school was pretty close to the middle of nowhere, but it was the soul of the small town that it called home. It was only about an hour and forty-five minutes from my hometown of Toledo compared to the two and a half it takes to get to Columbus. The town was no Bexley in terms of off-campus food options, and the only thing close to a city skyline was a cluster of wind turbines, which could have quite possibly been in the next county over.
On the inside, they seemed to have things together. The campus was larger than Capital’s, but it had room to expand. There were more students, but this was because the school was a destination because of its pharmacy and law programs — heavyweight fighters in the world of graduate school.
Another factor that struck me as very attractive was the fact that this school had a marching band. I’m reasonably sure that my high school band was better than this college band, but I wasn’t in high school anymore and the idea of any marching band experience thrilled me, especially considering the fact that Capital has an entire Conservatory of Music but nothing that even resembles a marching band. To this day, I’m not sure if the grass was really greener, or it just looked that way because there was so much more of it.
It was not until over winter break that I told my parents I was seriously considering leaving Capital. My mom asked what building I planned on living in for sophomore year, and when I hesitated, we got to talking about not living at Capital altogether.
It took some convincing at home. My dad had gone to this school for his first two years of college and then transferred away and graduated from Bowling Green State University. He gave me a couple very vague warnings about this school as if he were trying to hide some dark secret, but ultimately supported my decision to consider transferring.
I spent much of winter break gathering transcripts and other necessary numbers from Capital and my high school alike. A couple weeks into second semester, I sent these numbers to the other school along with a transfer application. Soon enough, I was accepted as a potential incoming sophomore. The next step (after a virtual wrestling match with the FAFSA) was to schedule a visit.
My visit finally happened near the end of March, and it opened my eyes in the best of ways. It rained off and on, but the campus was still inviting and full of life. This was in direct juxtaposition to Capital of course, as its campus was emptier than usual because of the approach of spring break.
One of the first things shown to me by a very helpful tour guide was a room similar to where I would be living. I was shown a small suite with two separate bedrooms, carpet on the floor, and a bathroom I’d only be sharing with my would-be roommate. At this point, I was still living in Lohman Complex at Capital, and the provision of living somewhere with air conditioning that didn’t smell like urine excited me.
I was taken through the other facilities, and I was fairly impressed. There was a student union that could be distinguished from other campus buildings, dorm buildings that didn’t look the least bit institutional, and a recreation center that was big enough for both myself and more than one athletic team. Outside the buildings, there were sidewalks that didn’t flood, country roads that looked like they were made to be run upon, and a sky that had the potential for smog-free sunsets and starry nights free from urban glow.
In terms of academics, there was potential. Putting a public history minor with my existing history major would give me a more specific career path, and the professor I met with seemed excited at the possibility of having a student in this line of study. He may have buttered it up a bit, but the history program at this school had it together. They were moving forward while the history program at Capital was in a period of transition.
The music program was also very inviting. I had heard from a couple of Logan’s friends who were involved with music that I would have been the only bassoonist enrolled at this school. Compared with Capital, this was a good deal. I would be able to rise in the ranks faster here. If I was the only chair, it would stand to reason that I would be first chair. The music staff members I talked to were aware of this point, and did everything within their power to sell me on the program. These two factors were enough academic reason to draw me towards this school even further.
There was another unseen factor that drew me in as well. In the couple times I had visited Logan, I had noticed a very different social atmosphere. I had often heard this school talked down upon for being surrounded by farmland, but I felt this fact added to the culture. Out in this area of Ohio, just east of the middle of nowhere, you were forced to socialize. You had to make your own fun.
I still believe that years and years of students making their own fun is what gave this school its charming social identity. Capital, on the other hand, is what I have heard referred to as a “suitcase school.” With its location in an actual city, it draws students from the surrounding area. Instead of making their own fun on campus, they fall back on their social structures from high school, retreating to Hilliard, Grove City, Dublin, or Pickerington for the weekend. Also, the semi-pro socialites take their talents elsewhere. If the Ohio State Buckeyes are the varsity partiers, the Capital Crusaders are the JV squad. The choice was clear after the visit that this school was worthy enough of a suitor to draw me away from Capital.
The last stop of the day was the financial aid office, and I would be waken up from my daydream very fast. I can’t romanticize the point that I did not get a very good financial aid package. Mediocre would be an optimist’s description. I went into the meeting willing to cooperate with a small price hike, but the yearly price was nearly $10,000 more than what Capital was currently taking from me.
I could not justify it, and neither could my parents. After leaving, my parents were in contact with the financial aid office for a few weeks. We appealed for a lower price, and I had a couple of the staff members I had talked to playing lobbyist for the same reason, but no agreement could be reached. This correspondence, which ended in mid-April 2016, was the end of the story.
If there’s a lesson to be taken from this, it is the fact that Capital is more generous than they appear when it comes to financial aid. No matter what factors are at play, money is a trump card more often that not. Financial aid is a large part of what keeps students, including myself, at Capital. You didn’t think it was the food, did you…?
