Word: reading
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...preparation for a high-powered university such as Harvard was abysmal. Early in my academic career, I had concluded that I had too much of a tendency towards lassitude to gain admission to an elite college by garnering an impressive joker in the housing office had read my thorough, if slightly arrogant, application and gleefully selected someone with every trait I detested. In our brief, mutually wary encounter, I discovered that she was a chemistry fanatic who went to bed at 10 p.m. and got up at 6 a.m. (I never go to bed before 3 a.m. and I never...
...comprehensive ignorance of Harvard perfectly suited him--in the eyes of the Freshman Dean's Office--to guide 30-odd freshmen through the year. Chuck welcomed us in his high, overeager voice and then, with the preface, "I thought you'd like to know something about yourselves," began to read each anonymous person's high school rank and SAT scores from computer printouts. We all stared at each other uncomfortably, trying to figure out who among us had graduated first in a class of 1000 and who had gotten the double 800s...
...have known--Stoughton should have warned me. I pored over the mammoth course catalog, marvelling at its range and breadth. Foundering, I decided to take my proctor's advice and fulfill my requirements first. I groped for some sense of direction and settled on the survey courses--I'll read everything from Plato to Marx, I thought excitedly. Then I went to my first class, and fought for standing room with hundreds of other people. I listened (there were too many people to see) as the professor told us to fill out index cards; she would select and admit...
...calls--me. One day these two have a fight over the chemistry girl's propensity for telling science jokes. The preppie flounces out and returns several hours later, asking for messages. "Your friend Chris was hit by a bus and killed," Ellen replied. The last line of the story read, "As the sound of retching filtered from the bathroom, she (Ellen) smiled over her little joke...
...returned reluctantly to my first reading period, arguably the most terrifying weeks of freshman year. My neglected coursework loomed before me, and my classmates' all too evident paranoia drove me from the Union. I never went back--it was too loud and the food sucked. I drank soup in my room, worked and fended off an inexplicable herd of admirers who had suddenly materialized when I didn't want to be bothered. As a maniacally drew up my schedules for studying, I discovered to my horror that I had three exams in three days. Had I read the catalogue more...