Georgetown Memories

I was digging through some old files and books that I was planning on throwing into my storage area downstairs when I came across my old student register when I had enrolled at Georgetown University. It has been almost five years since I enrolled at Georgetown, and every new student received a register that had the name, photo, high school, interests, and hometown of every freshman that was entering the university that year. Georgetown was a small school, with fewer than 6,000 total students, so it wasn’t hard for them to fit all the incoming students into a small book.

Part of the reason I picked Georgetown University — in addition to the fact that it had the best foreign service program in the country and that it once had an amazing basketball team — is because it was such a small school and I was assured of meeting lots of people, but not too small to get easily sick of them. Another significant reason I picked Georgetown, however, is because it was a Jesuit school.

I’ve always known the Jesuit education system to be focused on a side of education that other schools (like the University of Toronto where I am right now) tend to ignore: the impact that your learning has on the community. In fact, in all my classes, activities, and organizations at GU, I was continually challenged by campus leaders and my professors to discover ways to apply my learning directly to the community that surrounded us.

That all being a preamble to my little story. In my first few days at Georgetown, I was invited to a small reception hosted by the John Carroll Scholars, and I met a Jesuit there (I think it was Father Pilarz, but I’m horrible with remembering names) and as soon as I went to say hullo to him, he addressed me by name and started up a conversation about my hobbies and interests, even though I had never met this man before in my life. Of course, I was impressed, but more than that, I was a little creeped out.

I found out later that he memorized the register every year, so that he knew every single incoming student’s name, hobbies and hometown and could engage with them as soon as he met them. Quite a noble and difficult endeavour, but he’s done it every year, and I imagine he still does. So while unearthing my old Georgetown Register definitely did bring back memories of partying and heartache and learning and melancholy, it definitely brought back memories of dedication, motivation, and the drive to make a difference in someone’s life: even if it was just by knowing their name.