As secondary education rates continue to climb, the standards for a “good” college rise in tandem.
According to a 2023 NACAC poll, American students noted college applications as their leading source of stress. As a student at a college-prep school, I witnessed this agony firsthand — by senior year, hardly a sentence went unaccompanied by the refrain,“I just hope I get into a good school.” But what is a “good school?”
According to internet gurus (and various prying acquaintances), it is the most expensive, prestigious and, most importantly, distant college imaginable. Students from college-prep backgrounds face increasing pressure to go out-of-state, often to the East Coast, the holy grail of elite American education. This expectation places a steep financial burden on prospective students: Emma Kerr of U.S. News concluded that out-of-state tuition costs a cumulative average of 2-3 times more than in-state tuition.
Many affluent students consider a cross-country move crucial for a good education and ever-elusive “independence.” My own classmates, bright-eyed at the prospect of their upcoming moves to New England, sang praises of their collegiate futures — there would be no parents, no high school friends: just a brand new start.
To these peers, college was one giant, expensive leap from the Oregonian nest. It was a plunge into the deep end of autonomy — but does moving far away actually make you more of an adult? For some, studying far from home is a golden opportunity. For others, the perceived glamor of distant horizons can’t outweigh the practical benefits of staying on native soil.
I, too, harbored grand dreams of ivy-tangled libraries and green-gabled dormitories, but these fantasies were swiftly hobbled by the reality of out-of-state tuition. When I received my acceptance letters, my choice was simple: stay in-state or plummet into crippling debt.
I resigned myself to UO, begrudgingly at first, but soon with a sense of relief. My family has lived in Oregon for four generations, clustered in the same three-hour radius. I have done chores for the same neighbors since I was seven, and I have shared a bedroom with my little sister since she was born. Unlike my cosmopolitan peers, the idea of leaving my home behind filled me with dread, not invigoration.
At first, my domesticity was a source of shame, but the start of fall term popped my college-prep bubble and assuaged my fears — I was far from alone, as many other students had also chosen UO for its proximity to their hometowns.
When I boarded the Amtrak for my sister’s school play or a weekend with my boyfriend, I came to recognize the faces of many other northbound pilgrims in the vinyl seats, perpetually in transit between the two halves of their lives.
“I’m definitely grateful to be close to my family,” said Fernanda Gonzalez Huerta, one of my fellow travelers. “They’re my favorite people … whenever I’m struggling, I go and I feel better instantly.”
The idea that you must move thousands of miles away to mature is a recent phenomenon, and far from universal. As reported by Marc Perry of the U.S. Census Bureau, even though Americans change residences less frequently today than in 1950, those who do are more likely to move far from home, typically fleeing from small towns to larger cities and suburbs. Additionally, according to Adam Chandler of The Atlantic, the average American moves 11 times in their lifetime, while the average European moves only 4 — this aversion to home-boundness is just a side-effect of our culture’s ruthless individualism, which equates strength with self-sufficiency.
In a time where isolation and loneliness proliferate on college campuses, deemed an epidemic by Surgeon General Vivek Murthy, should students really feel pressured to abandon the connections they have already forged?
Family and friendships are not crutches meant to be discarded upon emergence from the high school chrysalis; they are a crucial support system meant to evolve alongside you. The transition to college can be difficult, but it should never be suffered alone.
Out-of-state education is a wonderful opportunity, but it is affordable to very few and feasible for even fewer. Students who crave a change of scenery should be encouraged to travel for college, but those who want to stay in their beloved home region should not be ashamed of their decision.
State schools are not academically inferior nor unadventurous, but instead an alluring middle ground between independence and isolation.
I am grateful for my decision. I cherish the proximity to my family and the ability to visit old friends. When I board the bus, watching pastoral hills blur into sun-dappled forests as the glimmering glass of my family’s city rises before me, those old knots in my throat ease into sighs of contentment: there is nowhere I would rather be but here.