As college students, we’ve been taught and trained in what has sadly become the most indispensable portion of higher education: the art of résumé building.

You remember high school: member of the Spanish Club. Treasurer of Future Farmers of America. President of the Pottery Makers Association. Now maybe you took seriously your position of authority over all pottery-crafting at your school, but I’m pretty sure I speak for many of you in saying that the list of these badges of cultural awareness and well-roundedness often translated into a $10 membership fee and a Spanish Club dinner at El Chico’s. Perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised that college demands a similar checklist in prepping us for life after graduation. Still, this revelation was disheartening to me.

So as a college freshman, I accepted with little enthusiasm the task of diversifying my academic portfolio. The authorities-that-be had demanded that I take a variety of liberal arts classes and I did just that. Eventually, I realized that I’d stumbled upon something invaluable. Whereas half-hearted membership in a grab-bag of clubs had once defined my idea of “being diverse,” I discovered that a dip into the pool of liberal arts studies might actually be a more refreshing way of achieving this. I’ll give you a few examples.

Exhibit 1: CF3312.   In the class “Making History” with Professor Stone, we examined the path of the “magic bullet” that, on November 22, 1963, supposedly shot out from the School Book Depository, through President Kennedy’s neck and out his chest, shattered Governor Connally’s rib and wounded his left thigh. We studied mob ties, gun smoke locations and witness testimonies all in an effort to make an informed decision about the true sequence of events of Kennedy’s assassination. Of course, we came to the educated conclusion that we were 100 percent sure that there is no way of really knowing who shot whom for what reason or from which location. But our uncertainty about the whole ordeal was in the very least inspired.

Exhibit 2: HIST 3357.  During Professor Wheeler’s class, we traveled back to 15th-century Europe to follow a young Joan of Arc on her crusade to rid France of those English devils. Digging through the records of her victory, capture, trial and execution, we searched for a true picture of the woman that felt chosen by God for a divine mission. Was Joan really a woman? Was she possessed? A cross-dresser? We examined these questions as we witnessed the lines between history and myth artfully blur together to create a masterpiece of controversy and wonder. By the end, I was able to debate succinctly in two minutes Joan’s calling, character and penchant for fashion faux pas.

At first glance, it seems that all I’ve really given you thus far is a collection of academic experiences that provide little more than gems of knowledge perfect for a run on “Jeopardy.” Not the best PR for a liberal arts education. But the treasure of these classes cannot be captured in a simple restatement of facts learned and formulas memorized. Instead, a complete encounter with the liberal arts curriculum–literature, languages, philosophy, history, mathematics and science–deals warmly to us wisdom not communicated in the one or two pages of a well-crafted résumé.

In the course on Kennedy’s assassination, I grew to understand Americans’ tendency to romanticize mystery and wild theories. I witnessed in action how a society can collectively venerate one man and condemn another.

Considering Joan of Arc’s story, I traced a teenage girl’s journey from historical figure to mythical creature with the understanding that the truth is really not too far from either. Her courage and determination reminded me that, apart from societal movements or trends, history can be impacted by the human spirit and an individual’s resolution to cling to hope.

Now, on the one hand, I’m thankful for the straightforward, no-nonsense facts I now have stored away. But I am ultimately indebted to the liberal arts experience for much more than that, for preparing me practically to study the world better after my academic career has ended.

With all of us spiraling out of college in a million different directions, I can’t guess what specifically will affect and mold you the most in your studies. But I can say with assurance that the process will change you–hopefully in a way that makes its documentation on your applications, résumés and transcripts simply an afterthought.

Elisabeth Parish is a senior math major. She can be reached for comment at [email protected].