Word: high-school
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...friend and I recently found ourselves on tour at Cornell University, the western outpost of the Ivy League. As two college students in a gaggle of high-school seniors and their parents practically beside themselves in the "Is this the right place?" soul searching, it was a chance to go incognito and try to remember what it is we do and why people seem to fawn so easily. ("That's a Harvard student," I recall a mother telling her daughter one morning my first year as I rushed half-awake to breakfast. Her daughter wrote it down dutifully. It must...
...unfamiliar section of the tour script, by Harvard standards, was the social scene speech: Greek life engaged "only" one third of the campus, we were informed, "so you can see that it doesn't control it." This seemed a particularly strange part of the shpiel, though the high-school students seemed to absorb it with no noticeable resistance. As a Harvard student I am by no means an expert on fraternity and sorority life, but if you could get a third of the Harvard students to do anything it would cause significant ripples. The closest examples would...
...answer was my tour: comparison is at the heart of the high-school senior's reality. Yet is Harvard necessarily the best point of comparison? Cornell has a lot to brag about that Harvard cannot touch: a coeducational policy that stretches from its founding; a healthy mix of pre-professional and liberal arts students, including hotel-school students; and a rural environment with beautiful gorges, waterfalls and tracts of forest. There is a proud ROTC heritage here and a supercomputer, a distinct architecture and the continued imprint of Ezra Cornell's educational ideals. Frankly, Cornell...
Poetry gets no respect. Readers of poetry are somehow "different" and "strange" creatures. Maybe those elusive poetry readers were high-school rejects. Maybe poetry readers don't want to belong. Maybe they are never prom queens. Maybe poetry really belongs hidden in dark coffeehouses, where poets live and breed and strum acoustic guitars, safe from the light of clean, clear narrative life...
Poetry gets no respect. Readers of poetry are somehow "different" and "strange" creatures. Maybe those elusive poetry readers were high-school rejects. Maybe poetry readers don't want to belong. Maybe they are never prom queens. Maybe poetry really belongs hidden in dark coffeehouses, where poets live and breed and strum acoustic guitars, safe from the light of clean, clear narrative life...