An array of colleges in the Midwest fight over a distinguished epithet: "Harvard of the Midwest." If you enter "Harvard of the Midwest" into Google, you get 1,040 results. Most of these results come from students or college newspapers associated with colleges that are vying for this distinction. Elite schools—including the University of Michigan, Chicago, Washington University in St. Louis, Northwestern—and unusual suspects—including the Medical College of Ohio, Drury University in Springfield, Missouri, and Southeast Missouri State—do battle in cyberspace for the coveted title. (By some curious convergence of geography and attitude, just about every college in Missouri is self-billed as the "Harvard of the Midwest.") But the discussion also gets animated amongst the small liberal arts college community. Imagine a discussion about Midwestern liberal arts colleges between friends:

"Beloit? Oh, yeah, Beloit! Isn't that the Harvard of the Midwest?"

"Of course it is! My cousin went there and he loved it!"

"One second, my companions, in all fairness Carleton is the true Harvard of the Midwest."

"Not so fast. As a graduate of Truman State University I am assured that TSU is the factual Harvard of the Midwest. I mean, look at the value!"

In all seriousness I have probably spent fifteen minutes of my life in conversations like these, and I figure today—the last day we'll spend before these mounds [or bleachers] with our Beloit friends, family, and faculty—is the time to loosen my lips and let out a little secret: Beloit is most emphatically NOT the "Harvard of the Midwest," and, more importantly, we Beloiters do not want it to be.

As I said earlier, several of Beloit's liberal arts colleagues claim at some level to be the "Harvard of the Midwest." For example, Knox, Macalester, Carleton, and others instill the idea in their students. We think of Beloit as on par with these schools—some more than others—but on this one issue we must break rank. It is understandable that these schools—including Beloit—would want to be associated with Harvard. Harvard is the ultimate college brand name. Think of the movies that use Harvard to represent the paradigmatic college life: Soul Man with C. Thomas Howell, Legally Blonde 1 and 2 with Reese Witherspoon, With Honors with Joe Pesci, and, of course, How High? with Method Man and Redman. There is a reason for Harvard's success in the film industry, and I think it has significant bearing on why so many colleges dearly want to be compared to Harvard: "Harvard"—the proper noun—details a picture of Harvard—the place—against which nearly every school measures itself. But Beloit should not measure itself against Harvard, nor should it use Harvard's image to describe the Beloit experience. The reason is simple: Beloit is incomparably unique, and while Beloit is stalwart in its promotion of the liberal arts, as is Harvard, the uniqueness of Beloit defies the shorthand description that an imagined association with Harvard provides.

It is important to note that this speech is not an attack on Harvard. It goes without saying that Harvard is a fine institution, and it has even produced several of Beloit's wonderful faculty, staff, and administrators. Harvard is a mere placeholder for a bigger point. I certainly would not jettison the Harvard tagline for the "Yale of the Midwest"—a possibly more apt title given our history—or "Stanford of the Midwest" or "Northwestern of the farther-Northwest Midwest" or the "Washington University of the East-of-the-Mississippi-yet-West-of-Lake-Michigan Midwest" or so on. Instead, this speech is about Beloit's identity, of which, if you believe the promotional materials of the college—and I think you should—we have plenty. And so I'll somewhat ironically quote the words of the famous Harvard graduate and staunch individualist, Ralph Waldo Emerson: "There is a time in every man's education when he arrives at the conviction that envy is ignorance; that imitation is suicide; that he must take himself for better, for worse, as his portion; that though the wide universe is full of good, no kernel of nourishing corn can come to him but through his toil bestowed on that plot of ground which is given to him to till." Today, I interpret Emerson's words from "Self Reliance" as urging us to scram from this "Harvard of the Midwest" nonsense.

I will only discuss the most salient feature of Beloit's identity, which is chiefly relevant given today's occasion. The foundation of Beloit's singular character is the broad and wonderful complexity of the Beloit student population. Our most significant triumph is our incomparability. Think about the individuals in today's crowd. Think about your friends, yourself, and all the interesting things we all do or will do. From cello-playing, libertarian economists, to Marxist ex-football standouts turned psychology buffs; from interns with U.S. senators who have met the press and set NCAA records, to incredibly tall Frisbee stars who have a penchant for grant writing. From Fulbright winners, future Ph.D.s, classical guitarists, law-school hopefuls, and culinary school success stories, to goldsmithing, ex-field hockey MVPs turned biology honors students. From Peace Corps volunteers, Jesuit Volunteer Corps representatives, and other aid workers, to writers and comic artists with keen eyes for irony and the absurd. There are innumerable examples of our class's fabulous range of interests and accomplishments, and, in line with the august ideals of our liberal arts education, our activities go beyond our major, our classroom, and—very often—our humble expectations. One has to admit that together we make up an interesting and formidably quirky crowd.

An important lesson to learn from this list of student accomplishments is that if there is one characteristic that all Beloit students share it's that we cannot be grouped neatly with our peers. We are characteristically uncharacteristic. My friends and acquaintances at Beloit—from administrators, faculty, staff, and students—are remarkable. We engage each other at a level that other schools would envy. We insatiably take on ideas. We have fun when recreating with each other. Our liberal arts education has helped us stay comfortable in the world of ideas and the world of action, and for this fact we have great reason to be proud.

When I applied, and was rejected again and again and again, at various colleges four years ago, I was anxious about attending a small school (in Wisconsin of all states!) of which I had barely heard. Four years ago I wanted the "Harvard of the Midwest" if I could not have Harvard itself. Today, however, as should be clear by now, such a label rings hollow. I want more than the "Harvard of the Midwest." I want a place to participate actively, and to call my own; a place to be proud of for its own merits; a place where I am personally affected by my peers; a place of interest. I am certain that today I have had that, and such an assurance is invaluable. As my parents used to tell me in my more despondent moments of my college search four years ago, any college is just a set of buildings—it is what happens in those buildings that makes the experience valuable, and what happens in those buildings is largely a matter of personal choice. At times, these words fell on deaf, adolescent ears, but more often than not I found this advice to be reassuring. I still think that this advice is mostly right. But the most important message I have, and the most flattering compliment I can give to our institution, is that I think we at Beloit do a great job of filling buildings.