Going abroad isn’t just some nice little resume booster — it’s a golden ticket to seeing how laughably small your bubble at Whitman really is. Sure, you can cling to the comfort of Ankeny and the same five people you always eat lunch with, but why? Studying abroad is basically life handing you a “get out of Walla Walla free” card. You’re not just gaining cultural horizons beyond the U.S., you’re getting shoved out of your cozy nest of Whitman and into situations that actually challenge you.
Newsflash – your worldview might not be as airtight as you think. Abroad, you’ll meet people who don’t automatically nod along to every “Whitman truth” and — brace yourself — you might even learn they’re still worth talking to. Imagine chatting with a kid from a gigantic state school who thinks Greek life is God’s gift and realizing that despite your skepticism, you actually kind of like them. Abroad is where you figure out Whitman’s culture is niche, not universal.
Whitman has 1,500 students, which is adorable until you realize that’s smaller than some high school graduating classes. Its whole “tight-knit liberal arts” thing is fun if you’re into political activism, hiking or finding the best IPA in the PNW. But the downside of a school that markets itself on “community vibes” is that everyone kind of blurs together. Sure, it’s nice to be surrounded by like-minded people, but at some point you’re basically living in an echo chamber with a Patagonia discount.
Contrast Whitman with a massive university; yes, you’ll have the occasional finance bro in salmon-colored polos, but you’ll also find people who are nothing like you — and that’s the point. Whitman is like sipping from a small curated wine flight; studying abroad is like realizing there’s an entire vineyard out there. Once you taste it, trust me, going back to the Whitman bubble feels so limiting.
Take my abroad experience in London. At first I thought I’d been scammed. I was surrounded by other American students 24/7. No tea with the Queen, no instant European clubbing friend group. But then I realized this so-called “scam” introduced me to people from schools totally different from Whitman: Southerners at tiny liberal arts colleges, state-school kids used to lecture halls with 500 people, people who literally couldn’t fathom what “Outdoor Program” even meant. It wasn’t always smooth, but being forced to navigate those differences was more valuable than any postcard-worthy view of Big Ben. At Whitman, we rarely have to stretch ourselves socially; abroad, you don’t get a choice. That discomfort? That’s where the good stuff is.
So here’s my thing – if you have the chance to study abroad and don’t, you are seriously cheating yourself. Yes, go for the gelato in Rome, the clubs in Berlin, the Instagram baddies — but more importantly, go for the chance to expand your circle beyond the same faces you’ve seen since freshman orientation.
Meet people Whitman could never hand you. In a world as divided as ours, why wouldn’t you practice talking to people who aren’t clones of yourself? People are complicated, messy and surprising. Nothing drives that home like sharing a questionable Airbnb in Prague with strangers who become friends. And if you don’t go? Well, enjoy explaining to future employers, friends and possibly even your kids why you stayed in Walla Walla instead of grabbing the easiest adventure of your life. Trust me, “I was busy” is not going to cut it.
And honestly, when else in your life are you really going to get away with living in another country while still technically “in school?” After graduation, moving abroad requires visas, jobs and money — things you probably won’t have sorted out at 22. But right now, all you need is a suitcase, some curiosity and maybe a good charger adapter. You don’t wanna be telling a sad Walla Walla story while everyone else is trading stories from abroad. Seriously—just go.
