At 1:45 p.m. Wednesday, Oct. 25, Oberlin students left classes, rehearsals, and their studies to gather at the Memorial Arch in Tappan Square. This walkout, organized by Oberlin’s chapter of Students for a Free Palestine, was part of a larger, national walkout to show solidarity with Palestine. Carrying a Palestinian flag, College second-year Juwayria Zahurullah and other SFP members led the students in recitations of pro-Palestinian chants such as “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free,” as they marched around the perimeter of Tappan. 

Since Hamas’ Oct. 7 attack on southern Israeli cities near the Gaza Strip, and Israel’s formal declaration of war against Hamas the following day, events have been held on campus by an array of organizations to mourn and engage in open dialogue. 

On Wednesday, Oct. 11, SFP hosted a vigil for Palestinian lives lost. In the days before and after the vigil, President Carmen Twillie Ambar issued statements to the Oberlin community, emphasizing the necessity of finding “strength and hope in our shared humanity.” Additionally, Multifaith Chaplain David Dorsey and Assistant Dean and Director of the Office of Religious and Spiritual Life Samia Mansour held space for students affected by the events. Director of Chabad at Oberlin Rabbi Shlomo Elkan also offered the opportunity to speak with the co-directors of Chabad at Oberlin, himself and Devorah Elkan, to anyone in need of support.

Zahurullah, SFP’s social media manager and secretary grew up attending vigils for Palestinian victims of Israeli occupation, some of whom were members of her own community. During fall break, she attended a protest in Chicago, where thousands marched in support of Palestine.

For Zahurullah, one of the most important things to emphasize about this current conflict, where even the rhetoric used to describe it is contentious, is that it did not begin two and a half weeks ago.

“This has been going on for years and years and decades, since the 1940s,” Zahurullah said. “I think that’s a major piece of context that a lot of people are missing when they talk about this event and, a lot of times, contributes to the ‘both-sides’ narrative that goes around a lot.”

In the week before fall break, and in the week following, students like Zahurullah have reported a lack of adequate communication from institutions on campus regarding Palestine and Palestinian people.

“We held our vigil the week before break, and I think part of the reason was because there were a lot of spaces advertised by the College that were specifically for Jewish students mourning death, and specifically related to events in Israel,” Zahurullah said. “We just wanted to create a space to remind people of [Palestinian] humanity and to mourn them as well. … What I’m noticing in the last two weeks is the general attitude towards the issue has been dismissive towards the side of Palestinians, and part of that is namely that it refuses to name Palestine — in all the correspondence it just says Gaza, and that still refers to it as the Israeli-occupied land.”

Not long after the vigil dispersed, the candles were extinguished, and the chalk was washed away. When SFP brought concerns about this interference to administration, they were told that chalk couldn’t be written on vertical surfaces such as the columns of the Memorial Arch.

“We [also] had a banner outside of Wilder [Hall] that was taken down sometime overnight, and we asked them, ‘Are you going to look into it?’” Zahurullah said. “They claimed they did, but I find it hard to believe that there’s no camera footage that could show someone taking a banner from the side of Wilder, especially because there was one instance where two students were sitting on the Wilder porch playing music and waving an Israeli flag. They were in complete view of Campus Security, and not even 30 minutes later we tried to hang up our banner, and within 10 minutes a Campus Safety officer came over and started untying it. I don’t understand how those two students were standing in view of Campus Safety for like an hour waving a flag that they didn’t have a permit to do, but ours was taken down.”

In the last few weeks, College fourth-year Allison Lupatkin has similarly observed what she feels is a lack of sufficient response to the current conflict. Lupatkin was involved in Oberlin’s chapter of J Street U when it was active on campus. J Street U operates as a primarily pro-Israel organization aiming to educate students on Israel-Palestine and advocate for a two-state solution.

“I thought there would be more activity on campus, honestly,” Lupatkin said. “I feel like I’ve been surprised by that [because in] a lot of the Jewish spaces I grew up in, I was taught that saying ‘Free Palestine’ is antisemitic. I don’t personally agree with that, but for instance, when I committed to Oberlin, my grandmother was worried about it because she was worried that liberal arts college meant antisemitic. I definitely came into Oberlin with a lot of apprehension on what the organizing and political scene would look like and how I would fit in. Honestly, the response on campus has sort of matched what my impressions have been, which has been a little frustrating. … Oberlin Jewish life doesn’t talk about politics, which is pretty unique for a campus with Hillel and Chabad to not talk about Israel.”

The general consensus among students is that Oberlin’s response has been incomplete. To Conservatory third-year Kayla Shomar-Corbett, whose family is located in Gaza and whose father immigrated from the Gaza Strip, grieving “lives lost in the Middle East,” as written in the Campus Digest to promote a vigil led by President Ambar, is an example of “both-sides” rhetoric.

“Is it perfectly fine to grieve? Yes,” Shomar-Corbett said. “I encourage people to grieve loss and mourn because that humanizes these tragedies, but I also think that I see a lot of people putting what I know to be genocide as ‘this war.’ … When people call this a war, when people call Hamas a terrorist organization and say, ‘We should condemn Hamas,’ I think, ‘Well, who’s condemning the IDF?’ It’s a really frustrating double standard. Whenever there is a global issue, [Middle Eastern and North African] Americans and MENA people in general are always required to condemn things that I thought we already knew were bad, like murder. ‘Both sides’ rhetoric always gets me into that headspace of, ‘You guys really don’t see this the way that I do.’”

College third-year Zane Badawi, who is half-Palestinian, wrote a piece in the Review (“Palestine Needs Oberlin’s Jewish Voices,” The Oberlin Review, Sept. 29, 2023) explaining his perspective on Palestine and calling on his Jewish peers to use their voices to talk about Israel and Palestine’s relationship — something he hopes to see more of moving forward.

“I’d like for people to reach across boundaries because, as strongly opinionated about this as I am, I think at this point and especially in this space, it’s important to talk to people they disagree with and voice their opinions in a respectful way, and make sure a sort of cross-communal interaction is happening,” Badawi said. “From a Western perspective, a lot of what you’re getting is, ‘Palestinians are terrorists,’ and, ‘The Hamas attack was a part of a larger pattern,’ and, ‘This war waged by Israel is retaliatory.’”

Over the past few weeks, many have sought out context for the ongoing crisis, such as information about the history of Israel and Palestine, through social media. Shomar-Corbett, Zahurullah, and many other Oberlin students perceive social media activism — whether it’s the distribution of infographics on Instagram or videos and photos from protests  — as a complex issue.

“Speaking on behalf of SFP, we’ve been very careful in choosing our words and choosing what we spread and post [on Instagram] to not push a divisive narrative,” Zahurullah said. “I think in a lot of the combative responses we get, that is what instills divisiveness. … SFP has gotten negative comments on our posts reinforcing the stereotypes that Palestinians are barbaric animals and that we’re supporting terrorism. … We did delete them, [but] we’re not going to do that anymore.”

With social media comes accessibility and circulation of information that brings tragedy out of the abstract, which many students emphasize as a benefit of online platforms. In these last few weeks, Zahurullah has noticed Palestinians in Gaza recording videos in English to broadcast their stories and presumably to make them accessible to Western audiences. Still, social media can exacerbate division and misunderstanding.

“Something that has really frustrated me a lot has been social media discourse, and how everything is so far to one extreme or the other,” Lupatkin said. “A lot of my peers from high school are posting very strong ‘stand with Israel’ sentiments and if you tried to mention the bombings on Gaza, you’re shut down. Whereas on the other end of the spectrum, I have friends where everything they’re posting is about the attacks on Gaza. But, if I tried to mention, ‘Hey, I’m scared for my friends I have who live in Israel,’ then you get shut down as well. I wish [there was] more acknowledgement that there are Israelis and Palestinians on the ground who are being affected, who are suffering, and this is not a conflict you can make such broad generalizations about.” 

Like Lupatkin, College fourth-year Zach Gershon previously led Oberlin’s chapter of J Street U. Gershon grew up attending Jewish summer camps and has visited Israel, both on a youth group trip and with family. He has also been privy to pro-Israel sentiments on social media.

“What I’ve seen on social media has been a bunch of polemics from both sides,” Gershon said. “A lot of my Jewish friends, some of my friends from summer camp, [and] some of my coworkers who are in Israel who I’m concerned about, have been posting a lot of extremely pro-Israel stuff and some of it I agree with but some of it I don’t. Over here at Oberlin, I tend to agree with some of the pro-Palestinian stuff, but not all of it. I would consider myself pro-two-state solution or pro-bi-national state — I do think while Israel has a right to exist and a right to self-determination, Palestinians are also deserving of that same right.”

Gershon, Lupatkin, and Shomar-Corbett all referenced friends and family in the region who have died, been kidnapped, or been hospitalized as a result of the conflict. 

“I’ve struggled a lot,” Shomar-Corbett said. “My cousins were in the hospital because of bomb debris. All I want is for people to treat that struggle like it’s something important and that it’s something worth talking about. … After the [SFP] vigil was defaced and so much of the chalk was erased time and time again, I felt like people were uncomfortable with seeing Palestinian trauma and acknowledging that. It just felt like a punch in the face, like you guys really don’t care about us … which is the ‘otherism’ and isolation I felt. There was a time on campus during the week before break where I felt like I couldn’t even leave my house, because if I left my house I was opening myself up to this world of possibilities of getting hurt again, getting my trauma, my peers’ trauma, and my family’s trauma invalidated.”

Some Jewish students experience similar anxieties as concerns about an increase in antisemitic hate speech and violence across campuses rise.

“Obviously, I’m sure that a lot of people agree what happened Oct. 7 was terrible, because let’s face it, it was,” Gershon said. “The thing is, it’s not about Israel vs. Palestine, it’s about civilians being used as pawns in what is essentially a war of attrition that is turning into a genocide. When I think about it, I’ve got a few family friends in the army in Israel and they’re basically being used by the government to fight in a war they didn’t choose to fight in.”

Students’ calls to the Oberlin community highlight education, conversation, and the humanization of a deeply contentious crisis. The College will be hosting a candlelight vigil Wednesday, Nov. 1 to mourn Middle Eastern lives lost. SFP will be holding an information session tomorrow, Saturday, Oct. 28, featuring native Palestinian speakers.

Zola Haber, OC ’23 and former Bike Co-op president, recognizes the DIY, eclectic energy within the Keep Cottage basement. While involved with the Bike Co-op — pre- and post-COVID-19 lockdown — Haber experienced the co-op as a space for not only bikes, but for a campy, evocative, and chaotic artistic scene.

“As soon as you go into the Bike Co-op, it’s covered in murals and random bits of art and cobbled-together pieces of bicycles,” Haber said. “It definitely feels like one of the few spaces the College hasn’t made beautiful and perfect and pretty. Even within co-op spaces, we can’t really do anything permanent. I think it’s very sad because, if you look back at historic pictures of co-ops, you see huge murals in Harkness [House], but that’s not something we can have in other spaces because the College is not as pro-art as it used to be. So, going into the Bike Co-op, it feels so good to see how ridiculous the whole space is.”

In February 2022, the Co-op hosted Hotspur Johnny, an Obie band, which was a notable experience for Haber, to say the least.

“We did have a situation where it was kind of a fire hazard with the Hotspur Johnny show,” Haber said. “When they agreed to play for us, it was super great, … and we didn’t predict how many people would be excited to see them. People flooded in and it was totally packed. … Everyone was like sardines in the back of the Bike Co-op.”

The show this Saturday, Oct. 7 — now indefinitely postponed due to a “hard ‘No’” from the Oberlin fire chief based on College regulations on how the Co-op space should be used — was going to have a $2 cover charge intended to mitigate overcrowding and, more importantly, begin to develop the Bike Co-op into a music venue cooperative.

College third-year Liam Kozel has been a driving force for music within the Bike Co-op this semester, having organized the
now-cancelled show alongside fellow College third-year Olivia Brash, as well as having larger conversations with Oberlin musicians and Bike Co-opers.

“I’ve been super interested in music venue cooperatives ever since this summer [when] I worked at one — it was really, really cool and powerful,” Kozel said. “I think they have a lot to offer in this day and age. If all goes well, this could be a really cool thing for the Oberlin music scene. … It provides a really cool opportunity for artists to get paid if people are willing to pay them, and it’s hopefully a way we can use the space sustainably. … It’s an Oberlin tradition to add ‘co-op’ to the end of whatever you’re doing. I think it comes from a good place of realizing a lot of the systems through which things that make money exist are incredibly unethical for both the people that they’re serving and especially for the people that work there.”

Kozel’s primary hope for the future of the Bike Co-op is to use it as a space for education.

“[Co-ops at Oberlin] allow for the people that work there to learn skills that they’re able to bring out into the world that also serve their community in a helpful way,” Kozel said. “This [was] going to hopefully do the same thing and teach people how to run a venue from the inside — how to run sound, how to charge people at doors, how to be a bouncer, how to write contracts — stuff that you wouldn’t be able to learn outside of a venue space. Hopefully it can serve as a sort of a ladder that is harder and harder to find nowadays in the music industry.”

For College third-year Ania Ocasio, who runs the bike rental program along with some social media management and secretarial liaison duties, the emphasis on collaboration and education marks the Bike Co-op as particularly unique.

The Bike Co-op, though, is an organic entity, one without any sort of organized set of files laying out its history and protocol. Rather, there’s a Tumblr page with a vague assortment of images and a brief page of Q&As.

“You hear the words ‘institutional memory’ thrown around a lot, especially now,” Ocasio said. “It’s a lot of people coming in
and taking over spaces that they don’t really know the background history of that were just left in a rush. It’s really interesting having to pick up all of the little clues here and there, and trying to get back in contact with alumni. The big thing with Bike Co-op in general is that it’s been a really big process to get back in touch with the roots. People just left, so [we’re] finding little artifacts here and there and trying to maintain what little routine that we know. Like, the whole thing with bike rentals — we really don’t have any framework for doing it. … We’ve so far been operating from what makes sense, and I feel like that’s not really the best way to go about retaining the essence of what we’re about.”

Like the drum kit in the back, the front room holds its own collection of these artifacts reminiscent of what the Bike Co-op used to be.

“There are all these pictures in the front room that are all these alumni who were [here],” Ocasio said. “We were so big at one point, and now, those faces have no names connected to them. … There’s so much art and stuff on the walls, and it’s always been a space for whatever — it’s an innovation space; I don’t want to sound generic, but that’s really what it is. There aren’t any wrong answers, I would say, with what to build here.”

Kozel and Ocasio had intended to bring back the Bike Co-op as a creative space, with music as an extension of that. For them, it was a means of rejuvenation that is, at this point, left to be determined.

“The folks that I left Bike Co-op with are very passionate people,” Haber said. “These people f—cking love bikes and are going to do a really good job. … My hope is that more shows like this will spark more of a fun DIY scene in Oberlin … because I know how excited people got about playing in the Bike Co-op. A lot of people, when they hear about them, go to the shows and learn that, ‘Oh, [the Bike Co-op] is still open, it does still exist,’ because for a while people were like, ‘Oh, the Bike Co-op, isn’t that shut down?’ … Our dingy basement space is special and I love it so much.”

The ExCo is led this year by Conservatory fourth-year Marley Howard, and its description in the fall ’23 ExCo course catalog reads, “This ExCo is a beginner course for BIPOC identifying students who want to learn the basics of pottery in a safe space. As the Pottery Co-op is a majority white space, having a safe space for BIPOC students will create a more comfortable and accessible space to learn and grow as potters.”

“I think [the Pottery Co-op] had started talking about doing another class because [I am] one of maybe, I would say, five — like I can name them all on one hand — [BIPOC] who regularly use the co-op,” Howard said. “I’m usually the only person of color in any of my art classes, and that’s a hard thing to deal with. I make a lot of art about my identity, and so being the only person who will bring up those topics is always difficult.”

When Howard took the ExCo last year to familiarize herself with the art of throwing, she discovered a passion so meaningful that she decided to teach the ExCo this year. Howard’s experience teaching pottery skills to her peers extends beyond the co-op: College fourth-year Olive Badrinath’s love for pottery developed alongside her friendship with Howard, and Badrinath is now a co-president of the Pottery Co-op.

“I had always wanted to get into pottery — it seemed like a thing I would like — and one day I was like, ‘Will you teach me?’” Badrinath said. “For me, it was also a way to spend time with Marley, so I think it’s a really meaningful thing within our friendship as well, and then I got obsessed. We just started throwing together, and it’s great.”

In artistic spaces, Howard and Badrinath often feel an expectation to speak about and create art centered around their identities. External pressures aside, fostering BIPOC community within the ExCo and the co-op itself is a priority for the two.

“There’s a need for [BIPOC] space because people want it, so we’re here to serve the people who want to learn and teach them as best as possible — and not even teach them how to do pottery, but teach them how to continue doing it,” Badrinath said. “I think that’s what’s really important. It’s not just like, ‘Here’s how you make a bowl,’ it’s also like, ‘Here’s how you enjoy doing it, and enjoy failing and loving what you make — or even not loving it, but just appreciating what you make despite it.’”

As ExCo instructor, Howard selected seven students from a pool of nearly 50 applicants.

“With the class, I just really want to create a space where people are comfortable being and art-making,” Howard said. “I just think the practice of art-making is such an important thing in my entire life, and it’s helped me through so many things, and I just want other people to have that same experience.”

When Howard and Badrinath are firing, they often eliminate distractions like phones and find themselves so engrossed in the process that even conversation is inhibited. For Howard, the commitment of energy that pottery calls for is proportional to the reward.

“One thing that people don’t realize when they first get into pottery is that it’s one of those things where you have to go back three times a week, four times a week, even if you’re just casually [doing it],” Howard said. “I think if you stay committed to this art form, you can build community or center your life around having to go, like, five times a week, or else your stuff is unusable and [you] have to start completely over.”

Badrinath experiences a similar irresistible captivation that keeps her coming back to the pottery wheel.

“You completely make a fool out of yourself every single time,” she said. “You get sucked in. … I was under the impression, when I first started, that you make a bowl and then it would be done, or then it would just magically pop out pink or whatever — first, I learned that there’s no pink glaze. Second of all, the more you make, the more you have to trim, the more you have to glaze, and then the more you make again. … It’s great.”

While registration for the ExCo is closed for the semester, Howard and Badrinath both hold office hours — BIPOC-only and open to all — for fellow students to get involved, learn the craft, and fall in love with pottery.

Oberlin, for many, signifies music and art as it intertwines with academia. It invites a unique collective of individuals into one space and creates a recognizable “Obie identity” that’s almost contradictory in its attributes of shared individualism.

The class of 2027 has been on campus for just over a week now, guided from orientation activities to Connect Cleveland, only to be thrown right into the first week of classes. For College first-year Mattias RowenBale, orientation — a blip in the entirety of his academic career — created a dynamic experience of constant activities and streams of socialization from 9 a.m. to late in the night.

RowenBale’s life is characterized by the arts. He brings his unique artistic experiences to this community: for around 540 days now, RowenBale has written a poem each day. He assembled the poems, written from last July to this July, into a collection representing his experience of being 17. His life isn’t just defined by poetry, though — there’s also circus arts.

When he visited for All Roads Lead to Oberlin, OCircus was immediately on his radar, as someone who loves to do aerials, juggle, and unicycle.

“One of the people who was showing me around practice [during All Roads] was like, ‘Oh, we actually need someone who unicycles,’” RowenBale said. “Coming here has been really fun because I do so many different things and I’m so involved in all sorts of activities and extracurriculars that I’m really hoping to continue to be involved in. [It was] wonderful in OCircus to just show up and on my first day teach three people how to unicycle.”

RowenBale’s sentiment of craving involvement is far from unusual, as every new Obie brings something distinct to the table that fills them with a sense of passion unlike any other. College first-year Mae Glickman has noticed an almost complete lack of what she phrased as “casual interest in hobbies.”

“People are really focused and really committed, whether it’s their side hobbies or what they’re studying, and I can’t quite describe it yet, but there’s something really cohesive about the way everyone works together,” Glickman said. “I think it’s an interesting experience coming to a place where everyone is super focused and passionate and interested, and feeling like, ‘Yes, I belong and these are the people I want to be around,’ and feeling slightly intimidated by how intense everyone is in a good way. … I like being a [first-year] and being small and vulnerable and new and stupid and making mistakes. The stakes are so low in the best way possible.”

Glickman shares RowenBale’s, and many other first-years’, intrinsic curiosity and even naivety that comes with arrival into a space so new and imbued with a beautiful and unique intensity.

“[I’m] looking forward to exploring areas of my interests or skills I’ve either put aside or haven’t explored yet,” Glickman said. “I was a dancer pretty seriously until I was 13, and I quit, but not totally. … I’m excited to get back into that here and do it for fun and to move my body and for that to influence other areas. I never learned how to ride a bike, so I’m excited to learn how to. … I just registered for sound painting, which I’ve never heard of before, and it’s kind of scary because I think I’ll be the most beginner in that class, but I still want to do it and push myself out of my comfort zone.”

Like Glickman, double-degree first-year Moss Seymour anticipates utilizing the vast array of resources that Oberlin has to offer, for it would be a waste not to. Seymour’s situation coming into Oberlin is particularly unique; they took a gap year
abroad after dropping out of a university in England.

Their year abroad consisted of painting school, two weeks as a construction worker, and an artist’s residency in Colombia. These experiences have caused Seymour to take greater consideration in their own life and find an illustration style particular to them. At Oberlin, they hope to create a graphic novel which would be illustrated and narrated by them, corresponding to an album they created — the perfect intersection of their interests as a TIMARA and Studio Art major.

“I’m just in a point of awe about how many things there are to create here and to use in the process of creation,” Seymour said. “Here, there’s a lot of people who are doing really cool shit all the time but you only find out after having talked to them [for] like the fourth time. … There’s just a lot of really humble people. A culture of kindness, as cheesy as that sounds, is really relevant here.”

RowenBale and Glickman both echoed this idea of a culture of kindness, noting a focus on self in artistic creation rather than competition, where discovering new ways to create is not only normal, but encouraged. For example, College first-year Lucy Burton discovered contact improv, a renowned staple of Oberlin, in this last week.

“It was the most mind-blowing [and mind-]boggling thing I’ve ever done and it was so good for my mental health,” Burton said. “I’d never done anything with dance ever, but it connected all the things that I like to do — I literally can’t function if I don’t move my body. … I love connecting with people and being present. … I wasn’t talking and I was still able to connect which was so interesting.”

Outside of the silence of contact improv, Burton has cherished the conversation she has had in this first week.

“I feel like I’ve found that a lot of people are similar to myself in that they are down to have a very intense conversation but also totally okay with goofing off,” Burton said. “Everyone is very present … everyone is like sitting in a circle and just being with each other … and that’s what I was really looking forward to in a college experience.”

With the semester now just starting, there are many more experiences to be had for the class of 2027. There are more artforms to explore and spaces for their artistic and individual identities to deepen.

“Everyone told me before I came here [that] it’s a bubble,” Seymour said. “But it’s a nice kind of bubble where, for this portion of time, we get to exist in a space where I feel like a lot of judgment doesn’t exist. … I haven’t been in the same place for a month straight for a year, and this for me, settling down in one place and looking around and being like, ‘Not only am I going to be here for probably five years, but I get the privilege to be in this space for five years.’”

Flanked by buildings saturated with the history of both the College and the City of Oberlin, it’s fitting that this public green space is cherished by both students and townspeople and used for all kinds of springtime gatherings. From tossing a frisbee or sunbathing on particularly nice days, to simply meeting friends at the corner before heading to Slow Train Café, few days go by without a jaunt through — or at least a glance over at — Tappan Square.

Perhaps one of the most interesting trees in the square is the pin oak planted in 1882, which is adjacent to the painted message rock. Both reside to the right of the Memorial Arch. The rock, when placed, was meant to indicate permanence, while the oak signifies development. The two together, however, change as the seasons shift: new leaves sprout after falling months prior, just as we paint our rock to represent things that are important to us.

There are a handful of other trees worth mentioning, although some are not quite as towering as the pin oak. Near the Memorial Arch stands a small ginkgo tree planted Oct. 4, 2017, courtesy of the Oberlin Luce Initiative on Asian Studies and the Environment in tandem with Green Legacy Hiroshima, an organization that aims to share messages of peace and environmental awareness. The sapling planted grew from the seeds of trees that survived the atomic bomb at Hiroshima.

I met with fourth-year Biology and Geosciences double major Peter Zimmermann one afternoon while writing this piece. We talked at the bandstand while two children ran up and down the ramp, before the two of us walked around the square as he showed me some trees.

“[Tappan] is probably my favorite place to spend time, other than the Arb[oretum], and that’s because of the diversity of trees here,” Zimmermann said. “It’s not just an open, grassy lawn, and you can tell that there was thought put into what was planted here, so it provides a space for community and gathering and specifically a place where both College and townspeople can gather and feel welcome.”

We stopped at one grove of beautiful, flowering dogwoods and redbuds near West Lorain Street. The dogwoods are particularly interesting, as the big white “flowers” that adorn their branches are more accurately described as bracts, or modified leaf-like structures. The true flowers of the dogwood are actually in a central cluster within the bracts.

“Every year, I feel like it’s really cool to remember the progression of things in springtime,” Zimmermann said. “In April,
trees really haven’t leafed out yet, but there are still some woodland wildflowers, and as you get into May, I find that’s my favorite time. Everything is just green, and when it rains that makes it all really nice. … Something about the lighting is just really magical when it rains during this time in mid-spring.”

Spring is frequently referenced as a time of personal change, a notion that is applied to ourselves as well as to plants. Zimmermann, though, points out that we’re mostly gone during the periods of springtime exuberance.

“Most of the time we’re here, the [deciduous] trees are dormant,” Zimmermann said. “Most of the growth that happens
is while we’re away, in the summer, while most of the growth that happens for us students — or maybe not — occurs during the semesters. I think that’s an interesting thing to recognize, that there’s so much change that happens while we’re gone. But we still catch the tail ends of that, in the spring and in the fall.”

So now, as our year comes to a close and so many of us return home after spending most of our year at an institution that has been here since 1833, it’s important to consider the saplings we came from. This academic year has been full of conversations about institutional memory and the preservation of ideas and traditions, so also think of what the trees may hold.

Take a moment, whether or not you will be returning to campus in the fall, and look at the trees. Reflect on their history and all they have withstood. As you leave them behind, remember that they will always have their roots here.