I made my first trip to Amherst in April of 1988, at the age of 18. I flew across the country from Tucson, Arizona. I had never been to New England, let alone Massachusetts. I still remember riding the Peter Pan bus up the hill of Route 9 and finding the town and college spread before me, in even more glorious color than the glossy admissions brochure. From the very beginning, Amherst felt like the perfect antidote to Sun Belt sprawl — a balm for my suburban angst.
During the four years that followed, the small campus of Amherst College made my world larger than I could have ever imagined. I was challenged by new ideas, forged deep friendships, tried on and discarded new attitudes. Like so many students, I grew in fits and starts, schooled by professors whose erudition and passion enchanted me.
The Town of Amherst played a crucial role in my education. For my first assignment for the college newspaper, I attended a town meeting that lasted more than three hours — and gave me a long lesson in democracy. I cast my first vote in the Bangs Community Center; I spent hours browsing in the town’s bookstores; and I still remember my first visit to Emily Dickinson’s grave.
When I graduated, I knew that I wanted to devote myself to cultivating the kind of intellectual community that had meant so much to me at Amherst — a place where curiosity and careful thought were prized above all else. I earned my Ph.D. and spent more than 20 years at Emory University in Atlanta, where I taught American literature and entered the ranks of academic administrators.
Now, I am humbled and privileged to be returning to Amherst as its 20th president. I am returning to serve this institution because I believe that its mission — to educate students in the liberal arts for lives of meaning and consequence — is essential. The college teaches students to learn habits of thinking and being that are critical for a democratic society to flourish, and it has used its resources to attract students from across the world, regardless of their financial means.
There is much about the campus that has changed: Morris Pratt Hall, where I lived for my first year, has an elevator, for starters. Instead of calling home once a week, students can now FaceTime their parents at any instant. And the students present themselves through a diversity of identities that would have been unimaginable when I was a student.
But just as much about Amherst College remains the same: Students still arrive insecure and uncertain, searching for new friends who can guide them. They still test out new ideas with bravado, and they will still make some mistakes. And the heart of the Amherst experience — the deep relationships among students, faculty, and staff — remains a constant. We have a beautiful campus, but we are fundamentally an institution of people.
What also remains the same is that the Town of Amherst and our neighboring communities remain critical to what the college offers. We cannot recruit and retain top faculty and staff unless Amherst thrives as a welcoming and inclusive community. For our students, their experience of walking into the town can matter just as much as a trip to the lab or the library.
As I learn my new role and return to this community, I am committed to ensuring that Amherst College is more than a good neighbor to the residents of the Town of Amherst. I want every student who graduates from Amherst to feel that this region has contributed to their education. I want the residents of the town to feel that their quality of life is enhanced by having one of the leading liberal arts colleges in the nation just a few steps away.
I am looking forward to years of partnership with the leaders of Amherst, and that journey starts on Friday, with my formal inauguration. You are all invited to the college quadrangle at 4 p.m. to attend the ceremony. And if I miss you there, I hope to see you on the Town Common soon enough.
Michael Elliott is the president of Amherst College.