There is something about a long drive that refuses to let your mind stay in one place. The pavement seems to stretch on forever in front of you. You don’t see anything familiar behind you. Mile after mile, stop after stop, conversations replay, memories and feelings resurface, a busy mind becomes quite yet filled with remnants and notions of the future that lies ahead. Every transition has a space between the ending and the beginning where one identity has been left behind, but another has not taken shape. For me, that space was the 1600 miles of highway stretched from my hometown in Kansas and western Montana. Along the way, between the mountains and plains, I found the journey was not merely carrying me to a new job, but it was challenging me to think deeply about what it means to begin a career in higher education.
Before orientation, before my first staff meeting, before I met a single resident or student staff member, I had been given an unexpected gift: time. Time to enjoy a journey across the country, but to also think about where I was going and what I hoped to become at the end of it. My formal time as a “student” concluded with commencement and hooding, but I still didn’t feel like a professional. In many ways my journey felt akin to a pioneer venturing westward to stake a claim in a faraway gold rush. My entire life loaded up into my small car with nothing but a direction to guide me.
Most big transitions in our lives happen too quickly, but what the long journey afforded me was a moment to escape from the busy pace of everyday life. There were no more papers to write, no emails which needed an “urgent reply” There were many times of pure silence in the car. Nothing but the sound of tires on asphalt and views of plains, hills, and mountains underneath a blue sky outside the window. We often tell our students to pause and think to make meaning of their experiences but not so much ourselves as professionals. By the time I reached Montana, I realized that the most valuable part of the journey had not been the distance traveled but the perspectives gained about the professional I want to become long after the boxes are unpacked and the excitement of new beginnings settle into rhythms of everyday work.
This journey is not so different from the transition countless students experience each year on our campuses. While the circumstances differ, emotions often do not. There is excitement but also uncertainty. There is anticipation but also that subtle recognition that stepping into something new means leaving something familiar behind. We often speak about transition as a process for students: move-in, welcome week, first day of class. These are essential milestones but merely visible markers of the deeper journey we all know students embark on. Beneath these markers are questions of belonging, confidence, and purpose. Students are not simply moving into a residence hall or attending their first classes they are beginning the lifelong work of becoming.
As I think about my own journey to a new beginning, I’m filled with a renewed sense of awe and responsibility as I work with students during these moments of transformation. My transition towards a full time professional reminded me that growth and change rarely happen at once. It happens over time. By paying attention to our own moments of uncertainty and change we become better equipped to recognize them in theirs. Before I had even welcomed my first resident on move-in day, my 1600 mile journey had reminded me of a simple but profound truth: every person on our campuses is traveling a road we cannot fully see. Our role is not to determine a destination but to help them trust the compass inside their heart as they discover who they are becoming.
