Word: dones
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...first semester at Harvard. I sat in my empty room over the four-day break between exam period and second semester, washing clothes, reading, thinking, recuperating. I had spent my semester detached, passively accepting academic boredom and loneliness. I had cried and raged and stormed, but I hadn't done anything. I was as sick of myself as I was of Harvard, sick of trying to turn Harvard into Andover...
...turn came, I was escorted by two Ph.D's up to the platform. I climbed the steps. The diploma was handed to me. I was thinking of my family and how proud I knew they were. And I was so proud of them for all they had done to achieve this. Then, instead of congratulating me, Dr. [Warren E.] Wacker simply said, "Now John, if you'd only move a few steps to your left." It took me more than a moment to realize he was not talking about my physical position on the platform...
Approach #4. The Cultivated Superiority Approach. Prerequisite: before you arrive in Cambridge, compile a list of things that you have done or that your family owns that are sure to impress anybody. A subdivision of this is Intellectual One-Upmanship. If your new roommate has read all of Proust's A La Recherche du Temps Perdu, come right back at him with your A.P. scores (fours are dull), or your knowledge of physical chemistry. Lying is permissable, because no one will ever know the difference if you can effectively fake it. Make pronouncements about everything. Wear a lot of preppie...
...never go to bed before 3 a.m. and I never get up before 10 a.m.), loved Celtic harp music and Gregorian chants, and belonged to the Spartacus Youth League, a group of rhetoric-spouting Trotskyites who have done much to discredit leftist politics. "Chemistry is a communist plot," she grinned. "It's had free radicals for years." Then she turned and cackled to herself--a trait that would persist throughout the year--and I got the hell out of there...
...first semester at Harvard. I sat in my empty room over the four-day break between exam period and second semester, washing clothes, reading, thinking, recuperating. I had spent my semester detached, passively accepting academic boredom and loneliness. I had cried and raged and stormed, but I hadn't done anything. I was as sick of myself as I was of Harvard, sick of trying to turn Harvard into Andover...