The Undergraduate Chair
Because these notes are written almost a month before publication, they run the danger of being somewhat, perhaps totally, irrelevant by the time one reads them in print. The serious tone of the past several articles, however, leads me to set that problem aside in favor of a lighter, though time-bound issue: the holiday vacation.
Interviews for this piece: have been carried on for almost four years now, and in that time it has become readily apparent that while winter term break means and does something different for everyone, there are a number of similarities in it for all. These most often follow class lines. And, though "the Chair" does not in any way resemble the kingdom of heaven, for this article the last shall be first, and vice versa.
The late Albert Dickerson, dean of freshmen, always used to say that freshmen "were the nicest guys on campus." Some traditions have obviously gone by the boards on that score, but what the dean actually meant was that the "shmen," in their actions and feelings, clearly stand apart from the rest of the student body. One can always tell a freshman. So, too, they stand apart in how they deal with their vacations, especially their first real one since becoming (clash of symbols) college students.
As a senior in high school, the shman could not get away from home enough, but with Thanksgiving break, chances are that he was quite ready to leave Hanover, perhaps never to return. Somehow, Mom, Dad and the dog never looked so good. The HTH (home-town-honey) looked ... fantastic, better than that picture the peagreener had studied for so many minutes during the fall term.
But alas, that break was too short, and too crowded with relatives, and there was the specter of the imminent return to the Hanover Plain lurking near the half-unpacked suitcase and the completely unglanced-at pile of books. This was not a real vacation, it was a dirty trick. But no mind, buckle down, get through those finals. The real thing was just around the corner: peace, security, quiet, a little romance ... sleep.
For most, however, that was probably not the case. The old gang did get together for New Year's Eve at good ole' whatiz-name's, the one who always threw such good parties. Everybody does a lot of catching up, talk of the old days, but somehow it's not the same. By this time, the HTH has gotten up the nerve to say there's someone else ... at college, probably an upperclassman, with a great deal more status than the shman. With the dog barking, and sis wanting the car the whole time, the freshman comes slowly to realize why he/she had been so eager to get away in September. The holiday hustle, and again with all the relatives, and boxes to carry, and indigestion, and of course the visit to the old school, decked out in the latest Big Green apparel only to find that while the grounds and buildings are the same, it's the juniors of last year who have all the status, and all the shman has is no money to answer the school's requests for alumni donations.
At the December 31st orgy, the Freshman gets an eerie feeling of deja vu, and that he has somehow spent his entire vacation trying in vain to slip back into last year. A new gang has your turf, and, somehow home is not home. Home is not ... Hanover. Trying to relive that year is not so bad really; what's bad is that it can't be done. Wolfe's "You Can't Go Home Again" stares a freshman in the face.
By the time a freshman is no longer a freshman, he has experienced several more times this vain attempt to go home again. Some bear up well under this failure, some less well, but all go through it. Yet at the same time, students - living together with other students, going through the same problems and experiences - begin to form attachments that only exist at college. What differentiates college from high school is its totality: it is home and school in one. One can't escape books or a bad roommate or a loud stereo. This is a shock to some, especially freshmen.
Gradually though; the common experiences result in relationships that will last for years to come. The eerie transition between the Hanover home and the parents' home is resolved early by the recognition of Hanover as one's home, too. Where else can a non-athlete end up knowing half the members of any varsity team by living with them? And come in contact with the best minds and liquor in the world? And have such a good time at it? And maybe learn something about oneself useful for the future? And how to get along with all those people?
The realization that "you can't go home again" and the subsequent resolution that Hanover is one's primary or at least equal home comes at different times for different people. But given the choice between home-town-home and Hanover-home, with all your friends about you, by the middle of junior year most would prefer the latter, though of course, there is a time for both.
Thus, the change between freshman and upperclassman is really one of attitude. The eagerness to get home at the end of the term is replaced by a desire to simply get exams over with. When it's time to leave, it's time to leave. Everyone else is leaving so why stick around anyway?
At the top of the list for the upperclassmen is sleep, recovery from an all- nighter or two during exams. For Christmas, the relatives and the family are tolerated, often better than before because the transience is by now common. Time is shorter now - the end of it all is increasingly in sight - and so will be treasured. The old friends? Well, their number is about halved, and now the talk is of the future, and not of the past. The parents, too, are only too glad to hear of their student's plans and to talk with him/her on an equal basis. Yes, maybe a visit to the old school, but clearly now as an alumnus, even if one has no money.
And when it's time to go, the half- packed suitcases are piled in a car, and one is off, back to the other home - the real one? Perhaps there is a tear in a parent's eye.
The senior has achieved an almost perfect balance between the two homes, and the people at each. He can move freely and easily among arid between the two, and can indeed be quite at ease at either one. The senior realizes that each has its own peculiar positive attributes, though Hanover's are still preferred.
The adjustment has been made. Part of you is lost to the parents and their home, and now resides permanently here in Hanover - content, relaxed at last. Yet, that part will soon, all too soon now, undergo another transition, a scarier one.
