The Undergraduate Chair

It never really seems like another college year is beginning until you're finally back in Hanover. All summer long you've been telling Sweet Young Things at beach parties and yacht clubs that "I'm a senior at Dartmouth." And after you've properly impressed the above- mentioned S.Y.T., you forget all about it and try to tantalize her into being interested in you by subtle references to Fall Houseparties and Winter Carnival. You don't really believe the "senior" business yourself, and you're always surprised when she takes you at your word.

But as you pull into Hanover on the bus or in a car or taxi, the realization suddenly hits you. The most striking thing is always the freshmen. You take a look at the beanie-bearing boys on Main Street or the trunk-bearing boys moving across the campus, and suddenly you know. You're a wheel now. You nudge the guy next to you and ask, "Did we ever look like that?"

You're dazed. You see a beanie going by with 1954 on it, and you rub your eyes. It's awfully hard to see where three years went so fast. And it's hard to realize that only nine months of college life are left. You can see the three B's waiting for you outside the Bema. Business, Barracks, and Brides are there, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, around the graduation cor- ner.

You notice things almost for the first time.