Photo courtesy of Will Washko

“Alone, we can do so little; together, we can do so much.” — Helen Keller

Community is a concept that is thrown around a lot today. School administrations, clubs, affinity groups — everyone seems determined to capture it. On Nov. 7, in Dr. G’s dining room, 10 other Wills and I found it over Hawaiian barbecue.

The idea began as most popular movements do: with a dream and an Instagram group chat. Back during Bear Beginnings, Vice Chancellor of Student Affairs Anna “Dr. G” Gonzalez, in her convocation speech, had revealed that ‘Will’ was the most common name in the Class of 2029, and thus, “the search for 19” was born. This chat began as a joke and was the brainchild of first-years Wills Coyne and Kamp, who began scouring Instagram almost immediately after the speech.

At this point, the duo had no clear goal in mind, but the number of Wills added to the group chat kept growing. Soon, nearly three-quarters of the first-year Wills were unified in one group chat. The remaining 25%, however, proved extraordinarily difficult to track down. What followed was a grassroots outreach program: canvassing across campus, knocking from door to door, and desperately trying to make connections. I distinctly remember wandering across the floors of Eliot and Umrath, searching in vain for any trace of the lost Wills. For a moment, the movement seemed doomed to fail. But where there’s a Will, there’s a way, and with 16 Wills, we couldn’t fail. That’s when we brought in Dr. G.

Coyne and Kamp sent an email to Dr. G asking for all the emails of the first-year Wills. That way, they figured, they could send emails to the remaining Wills rather than tracking down leads and following hunches. Dr. G not only provided the necessary information, but invited all of us to dinner at her house. Obviously, we accepted — it was the perfect opportunity for our first in-person gathering.

There was one final component to take care of: our dinner uniform. It was decided, with unanimous consent, that we would all wear jeans and a white t-shirt to dinner, but act like it was a coincidence, demonstrating the mental unity of the Wills.

At first, meeting up under the clock tower felt like some kind of humiliation ritual — or a boy band rehearsal. Everyone who passed us stared or took photos, and I found myself beginning to shrink away, self-conscious of the attention I was drawing. As we shouted across the South 40 to every approaching Will, however, I was filled with confidence. If they stared at me, they stared at us.

Dinner was fantastic; Dr. G was a wonderful host. What struck me the most, however, was the camaraderie I felt with the rest of the Wills. Athletes, engineers, artists, and self-aggrandizing newspaper writers all together, under one roof, eating Hawaiian barbecue. Then came the highlight of the dinner: the roll call.

Will Coyne stood up, cleared his throat, and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from his jacket pocket. 

“Will,” he read.

“Present,” we all responded. He nodded, crossed off the name, and continued.

“Will,” he read.

“Present,” we responded again. He nodded again, and scribbled on his paper again. We continued for every Will at the table and ended with applause.

As cliché as it sounds, I had an epiphany during the roll call. No matter our differences on the surface, we were all going through life at WashU together, bearing the weight of one fantastic name. We were all connected now, whether we liked it or not. I, for one, couldn’t be prouder, and I hope the rest of the Wills in the Class of 2029 feel the same way.