I’ve often said that I would rock college if it weren’t for class.

But despite my best efforts, the fact remains that I have learned a great deal from four years at the University.

For example, I have learned that BlackBerrys cannot swim, and that Quick Grill is inevitable. I’ve learned that the ticket man is totally immune to logic (also pleading, bribing and weeping). More importantly, I have learned that conversation is powerful, because people have a deep need to know that their concerns – their stories – are valid; that life is lived not in absolutes but in the confusing and ambiguous gray areas; that persisting outside the Lord’s will is empty; and that sworn enemies sometimes make the best friends.

This is only the beginning. Outside the classroom, the culture at The University of Alabama teaches a host of lessons. I am astounded by what I assumed, as a freshman, was normal. It seemed normal that every sorority I considered, while all integrated nationally, was (is) lily-white. I didn’t question a political system that accepted coercion, and I wasn’t bothered that minorities and women are scarce in the upper levels of SGA administration. I imagined everyone took multiple friends to the hospital for alcohol poisoning and figured binge drinking was a given. In what world are these things acceptable in 2011?

Hear this: I love the University perhaps more than you can imagine, and every aspect of my experience, from greek life to SGA to Honors College, has been magnificent. The University of Alabama is an incredible place, and we are so fortunate to make this beautiful campus our home. Here we enjoy everything from ESPN Gameday to “Romeo and Juliet,” from an Alzheimer’s conference to Gallettes. We are growing in size and prestige, and I imagine that I will not recognize campus in six years – and that is thrilling.

But my heart breaks for those who never realize that segregation, coercion and excess are not normal. When we accept, or even tolerate these, then our time at the University has taught some terrifying lessons. Our classmates may graduate believing that exposure to a different culture is undesirable, or at least unnecessary. Our pledge sisters may graduate without developing opinions or ever thinking for themselves. Our best friends may graduate believing that the rules don’t apply as long your friends can keep you out of trouble – or that a one-party democracy is not, in fact, an inherent contradiction. What we learn now, we take with us always, and it will affect how you perform your job, how you make decisions, how you spend your time and what you teach your children.

But it is about a lot more than you. It usually is.

Your life is touching the lives of others, for better or for worse. Take cheating, for instance. It is not just misrepresenting how capable you are, but it is also devaluing the degree of every other UA graduate. Larger than that, though, these lessons affect our state and our future, because the students who learn these lessons in college go on to be lawmakers, businesspeople and community leaders.

In the past few weeks, I have likened my years at The Capstone to King Arthur’s Camelot – one brief shining moment when wrongs were righted, when legendary personalities led with brilliant insight. In the last few years, leaders that I am honored to call friends have acted in their own circles of influence with wisdom and courage. They are the game changers, the servant leaders, the heroes and the heroines.

But now it’s your turn, and I am audaciously optimistic about the future. I only hope that you will fight the dangers of apathy in yourself and in your friends as you wrestle with the life-altering questions of purpose, injustice and collaboration. It is in the heat of these struggles that the essence of who you are will be formed. Our campus needs you to develop a passion that is more powerful than apathy, self-interest or band-aid fixes.

We fail, a lot. I believe, though, that we are called to examine ourselves critically, to challenge each other to sacrificial service, to believe with conviction, to lead with compassion and creativity, and ultimately to transcend our present circumstance. And so we pour ourselves out, day after day, for what is another sleepless night next to a conversation that could awaken campus?

Do not stop pursuing your own, excellent contribution to The University of Alabama, and know that our magnum opus is not a solo composition. When we worry less about credit and more about outcome, less about criticism and more about truth, then we rise to our most noble instincts. We must hold out our ideals like lanterns and acknowledge that the whole is far greater than the sum of our parts. May we embody the very image of what we dream our world to be, and may we wake up to a future reality of men and women who live by service, honor and integrity.

Meg McCrummen is a senior majoring in history and French.