Walking into Hanes Auditorium for your first Opening Convocation at Salem College feels, frankly, a little weird. You’re a first-year, already overwhelmed, and suddenly you’re surrounded by seniors in heavy black robes and “funny shoes,” moving with a solemnity that feels more like a secret society than a Tuesday morning assembly.
As the lights dim and the Moravian candles come out — those slender tapers with the red paper ruffles — it’s easy to lean over to your roommate and whisper, “Did we accidentally join a cult?”
But then, the flame starts to move.
The realization hits the second the person next to you tilts their candle toward yours. You notice that for your candle to light, theirs has to bow. It’s a physical act of leaning in, a deliberate sharing of warmth that turns a room of strangers into a single, connected circuit.
Then, the singing starts.
If you weren’t concerned before, you are now. Suddenly, hundreds of voices rise in a synchronized, hauntingly perfect harmony, singing the Alma Mater “To Salem” with a level of intensity that feels almost supernatural. You look down at the program, your eyes darting over lyrics you’ve never seen, trying to find your place in a song everyone else seems to know by heart. The seniors aren’t just singing; they are chanting with a fierce, wide-eyed pride that makes you wonder if there’s a secret handbook you missed in orientation. For a moment, the auditorium feels less like a college assembly and more like a high-stakes initiation, and you’re the only one who doesn’t know the password.
But as the melody settles and the light from those hundreds of candles begins to reflect off the dark robes, the panic starts to soften. You realize they aren’t singing at you; they are singing for you.
The robes might be a bit much, and the traditions are definitely quirky, but the message is clear: You aren’t standing in the dark alone anymore.
Welcome to Salem College.
