On this campus, “community” is a shallow, trite and almost meaningless word used as a way to indicate the lack of unity among the student body.

Just about every candidate for student body office promises to strengthen the campus community, an unattainable goal.

These student leaders hear stories about an existing nightlife and large social circles that decades ago encompassed much of the U. But that time has come, gone and will not return. In those days, the student body was much more homogenous. The students mostly came from middle- to upper-class families who could afford to send their son or daughter to college.

These students had much more in common than we do today.

As higher education became more of a necessity and less of a privilege, more and more diverse people enrolled. This is not a diversity geared around just gender or race, but of social class, familial background and personal interest.

Ask a student what it means to be a Utahn, and after the quick comment referring to the dominant religion, the student will most likely fail to answer. But that is because an answer doesn’t exist. No one can quickly define what it means to be a Utahn.

While the demographics are not exactly the same, the U strives to match the citizenry of the state, and in doing so, no one can now say what it means to be a Ute.

My experience as a college journalist and as a political science major differs completely from that of a single mother taking classes in biology or that of the returned missionary enrolling in math after two years away from the subject and dying to find his old friends.

With this change in the student body and the disintegration of a meaningful campus community, the U can become a scary place for new students.

The campus becomes a ghost town around 3 p.m. and almost no one cares if you succeed, if you fail or if you disappear altogether.

When I enrolled in classes for the first time four years ago, I did it with a friend. This friend and I had two of our four classes together. We would go to class, then have lunch in the Union and then go to work?each and every day. I had no other interactions. College for me was just college. The U was impersonal, the students were self absorbed, and I was that small freshman who had no idea how to survive in such a sterile environment.

At least until I saw a call for news writers in The Daily Utah Chronicle.

I applied?actually, I kind of pushed my way onto the staff and refused to leave. Now, four years later, I am writing my last words for this paper.

The Chronicle became my community. The students who worked as writers, photographers and designers became my friends, my support group and my confidants.

I found my nich among an ever-changing group of eccentric college journalists.

These people, full of quirks and good humor, made this campus liveable for me and gave me a reason to stick around after 3 p.m.

Every student needs a place like The Chronicle, because the real campus community is found within organizations such as this one. What it means to be a Ute can be found within Greek Row, a student advisory committee, the dorms, Terra Firma, ROTC, the LDS Institute, the student government or any other campus organization.

These student groups take this sprawling and intimidating campus and convert it into a comfortable group of friends. Within these organizations is the heart of campus and the dwelling place of a true college experience.

If a student’s fondest memories of the U involve the classroom, that student never experienced college.

Almost all of my memories of this university involve my opportunities and experiences as a news writer, assistant news editor and now the editor in chief. I probably couldn’t name all of the professors or even the classes that I had. And quite honestly, I don’t feel bad about it one bit. But I can name just about all of my former coworkers.

This isn’t a column aimed at student leaders in the hopes that they change their usage of the word community. This isn’t a column calling for a more unified student body.

This is aimed at that freshman who is finishing her first year of college and has hated every minute of it. The one that finds her classes to be all right, but looks at the rest of the campus as a large library, where everyone is expected to keep their voices low and leave everyone else alone.

For that student, and for the hundreds like her, I want my last words in this paper to help guide them to a prosperous and rewarding college experience.

Start small. Call the Bennion Community Service Center and feed the homeless. Attend a religious service. Find a club that suits you. If it doesn’t exist, create it.

If you don’t, if you let this over-bearing dullness permeate your college experience, you will have hurt your education, you will have lost possible friends and you will never truly know what college is like.

I was lucky to find my community, but I still had to search for it.

I want to thank all of those I have worked with at The Chronicle. They shaped my experiences and they made my college career worthwhile.

Matt welcomes feedback at: [email protected] or send letters to the editor to: [email protected].