while at the PTK convention, I missed a vast majority of Founder’s weekend. Founder’s weekend is when all of the alumni return to Cottey. Of course, not everyone returned but normally the classes at their major reunions (1 year, 5 years, 10, 55, etc) do. I came back to Cottey and threw myself right into the festivities. All of the Cottey seniors (so alumni included) were singing on the senior sidewalks and sharing the songs that they had sung while they were at Cottey and so there was songs I had heard quite a few times before an some that I had never heard before. Beka and I got pulled down the center on the grass strip by some alum, which was hysterical and then all of us freshmen who were outside, went in the middle and the seniors and us sung back and forth. After that, we started moving down to B.I.L Hill but before that, Beka and I went up with an alum from the class of 2003 to look for her DJ (Duck Jacket–seniors have DJs and freshman have Baby Blues to wear during traditions and they get passed down from year to year). She didn’t find it unfortunately.

At B.I.L was only our class, our seniors, and our grandseniors (The class of 2012). I can’t describe Cottey traditions–they’re just so perfect in so many ways. We sung back and forth and laughed and joked and every class screamed that they were the best class ever but at the same time, each class screamed and shouted in praise for the classes that had come before and after them. We moved outside and all got in a circle and sung May We Walk This Walk Together and then (of course <3) Daisies. To stand under the spring air with the stars shinning down on you and to wrap your arms around a complete stranger and sway back and forth and for the fact that you both share Cottey to be enough for it not to be awkward is something that is so incredibly special. After the moment fade, a huge hall battle emerged, with each hall screaming it’s name. Hugs were passed around. Laughs were had. Connection is thick in moments like that. Tears are shed. We are all Cottey women, despite how different we may be.

It is a beautiful sight and a beautiful feeling.

Here’s to thee, our almamater. Here’s to thee, our Cottey dear.


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