CLASS OF 2000: Caroline Rigsby

Southern comfortSouthern comfort"I was working to complete myself here and I think I've accomplished that." Caroline Rigsby remembers scouring the plowed farm fields near her Nashville, Tenn., home, searching the dirt for ancient Indian arrowheads. She can recall the feel of the delicate flint between her fingers -- rough edges, sharp at the tips, but worn smooth at the center. She and her father would look for hours, tracing and retracing their steps. Her passion for archaeology was born of those summer afternoons, as she began to piece together the stories of history through their physical remnants. "Two summers ago, I heard about [an archaeological] dig 45 minutes from my house," recalls Caroline, who moved to Atlanta during high school. "I begged them to let me volunteer. They let me help them out and actually do some real work. But, of course, a few days after I got there, the money ran out and they had to pack up and go home. It was still neat." When the 19-year-old "southerner-at-heart" began looking for colleges, Penn made the list primarily because of its archaeological museum. "The opportunities here to learn are incredible -- this summer I'm going to Bordeaux, France, with Dr. Alan Mann on an archaeological trip," she says. "On the other hand, my Anthropology major was the source of my biggest fear. I was pretty worried that people would look down on me and say: 'Why are you here? With Wharton and everything?' "Penn was the only school I didn't visit. It wasn't what I expected when I finally got here. The Ivy League stereotype scared me, but I have learned so much from everyone at Penn. My mind has been expanded and challenged." For Caroline, those challenges have only been enhanced by the inherent cultural differences between the north and south. She compares the homogeneity of the languid south with the more fast-paced, diverse culture of Philadelphia. "When I first got to Penn, I couldn't keep the 'ya'll' out of my speech," she says, laughing. "They called me 'Scarlett' at the beginning of the year. By now, I think I've lost a lot of the accent." But overcoming her accent was nothing compared to adjusting to Philadelphia weather, she emphasizes. Caroline still finds herself holding close to her childhood memories, not the least of which are her pale pink bunny rabbit slippers, worn thin at the heels. She has kept them since the third grade -- "when things were different, and I was the tallest in the class." "Snoopy is my hero," she adds, quite seriously. "When I was 2 or 3, there was this store called The Cabbage Patch. There was a huge Snoopy on display and I told my dad I wanted it. He bought it for me and until last semester, it was my constant companion. "But I brought it to school at the beginning of the year. My friends were playing with it and it got decapitated. I had to send it home for surgery." Home has always been a source of comfort for Caroline, though her parents divorced when she was only 2 years old. She and her mother have lived together for 14 years, supporting each other as close friends. Still, she adds, "my dad and I are very similar -- I owe him a lot." "I have 18,000 steps and halves [siblings]. I've been the oldest, youngest and in the middle. But I prefer being an only child. That way, you're really independent and you never have the chance to fight with brothers and sisters." That independence has spilled over into Caroline's college life, where she has a single room in lower Quad. "I am rejuvenated by being alone. I don't have to entertain anybody," she adds, her eyes scanning the dorm room that she has made her own. "And I don't have to watch anyone brush their teeth. I totally freak out when I see someone brushing their teeth. I mean, I want them to keep them clean, just not when I'm around." A string of bright yellow sunflower lights outlines the wall above her bed, interrupted by numerous posters of Snoopy and photographs of Albert Einstein. "Einstein was a total failure in school. It just goes to show that you can't judge someone by facts or tests." Such sentiments are Caroline's trademark; she emphasizes that she would "so much rather be happy than rich. I don't want to work behind a desk for the rest of my life." But she is far from laid back -- on the contrary, she spends a great deal of her time studying, and the remainder working as an ambassador for the Office of Admissions or talking for hours with other members of her class. "This hall is just crazy. There are people from Morocco, Turkey and the [United Arab Emirates]. There are some really exceptional people here. I have benefitted so much from my conversations every day." Those conversations include weekly discussions with her Intervarsity Bible group, which meets Friday evenings. "I was working to complete myself here, and I think I have accomplished that," she says, fingering the silver cross hanging at her neck. "Now I feel complete." n

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