Orientation
Starting the first day of school is always intimidating.
Here you are, on the brink of something totally new, and today you finally get the first glimpse of what will make up the next few years of your life. Strangers are all around you - you have no idea who they are, or what they are like. First impressions fly thick and fast. You hope that yours is a good one.
The day is kind of formulaic- the head administrators get up and talk about how glad they are to have you here, what a good class it is, and how bright everyone is. You, of course, wonder if you are going to be up to par with the class, or if maybe you were that dicey case that may not really succeed. It won't be you, but you always worry that it could be. Like the name tags, its just another part of the day.
Eventually, they ask everyone to get up and introduce themselves. This, of course, is the part that everybody hates- sum up your entire life in just a few seconds, make that ultimate first impression, and impress everybody else with how slick and together and cool you are. You'd think that because it invariably happens, people would have these rehearsed mini-speeches, a quick spiel that will capture them in the best light and make them fantastic. But nobody does. Instead, they hope that such a situation will never happen, they will never be forced to caricature themselves.
The first people start to make introductions- seeming so confident, so suave, and everybody else begins planning what they are going to say. The room becomes thick with thought bubbles as everybody goes into speech-writing mode, and nobody listens to whatever the people are saying about themselves. They could be saying 'bubble gum' over and over again, and as long as they said it smoothly, not a single other student would notice. The faculty would, naturally, so nobody does.
Although in hindsight, I suspect it would be the most memorable introduction if someone actually tried to get the audience to participate in something silly like a choral round of 'bubble gum' (I'm told that if a number of people do it, it will create a dull roar as though everyone were deeply engaged in stimulating conversation. Or, at worst, it would sound like an idling diesel truck, which is cool too.)
Then the tours start, but tours are themselves self-defeating. After all, you had to go find the appropriate place for the orientation, which means that you've already got a map of campus and at least some sense of where you are. The guides also have to try to keep their charges in a tight knot in order to be heard, which quickly becomes an exercise in frustration- trying to herd cats, as it were. If there's one thing to be said about people, it could be that the more educated they are, the less they are able to listen.
After the tours, you get into the more specific stuff, the kind of thing that might actually be useful. What your professors look like so you don't run them over on the road, for example. Who hides in the corner at huge events, and who stands up in front feigning importance. Useful stuff.
Then, homework and book lists were distributed, and you go in search of older students to find out what you really need to know. For us, this took place in the form of a student panel.
Questions there focused on alcohol, and a relative comparison of the evilness of various professors. Professor Mom, for example, never really expects anyone to read the book, and baby talks you through the material, while Professor Genius goes through the material so fast you need a tape recorder. This is the real useful stuff, the stuff that we will need to know to survive: Come to class. If you're going to come drunk, don't come too drunk, and for god sake don't sit in the middle of the second row where you can't dash for the bathroom when you have to puke. Don't actually do the work you're assigned, delegate it to others. You're eyes *can* explode if you try to read for 36 hours strait.
After that, the official activities ended for the day, and there was a stampede for the bookstore. Books are expensive. Even not- really- real books that are just photocopies glued together by the school. Ironic how we pinch pennies for months to spend $150 a book on things we may not even read.
After the bookstore, the pinnacle of the event for many, we adjourned to a bar a few miles from campus. Introductions were made. Names exchanged, forgotten, re-exchanged, re-forgotten, and occasionally remembered, if the person was of the opposite gender and good looking. Thank goodness I brought a pen and paper. Now i just have to remember who these people actually are.
Here you are, on the brink of something totally new, and today you finally get the first glimpse of what will make up the next few years of your life. Strangers are all around you - you have no idea who they are, or what they are like. First impressions fly thick and fast. You hope that yours is a good one.
The day is kind of formulaic- the head administrators get up and talk about how glad they are to have you here, what a good class it is, and how bright everyone is. You, of course, wonder if you are going to be up to par with the class, or if maybe you were that dicey case that may not really succeed. It won't be you, but you always worry that it could be. Like the name tags, its just another part of the day.
Eventually, they ask everyone to get up and introduce themselves. This, of course, is the part that everybody hates- sum up your entire life in just a few seconds, make that ultimate first impression, and impress everybody else with how slick and together and cool you are. You'd think that because it invariably happens, people would have these rehearsed mini-speeches, a quick spiel that will capture them in the best light and make them fantastic. But nobody does. Instead, they hope that such a situation will never happen, they will never be forced to caricature themselves.
The first people start to make introductions- seeming so confident, so suave, and everybody else begins planning what they are going to say. The room becomes thick with thought bubbles as everybody goes into speech-writing mode, and nobody listens to whatever the people are saying about themselves. They could be saying 'bubble gum' over and over again, and as long as they said it smoothly, not a single other student would notice. The faculty would, naturally, so nobody does.
Although in hindsight, I suspect it would be the most memorable introduction if someone actually tried to get the audience to participate in something silly like a choral round of 'bubble gum' (I'm told that if a number of people do it, it will create a dull roar as though everyone were deeply engaged in stimulating conversation. Or, at worst, it would sound like an idling diesel truck, which is cool too.)
Then the tours start, but tours are themselves self-defeating. After all, you had to go find the appropriate place for the orientation, which means that you've already got a map of campus and at least some sense of where you are. The guides also have to try to keep their charges in a tight knot in order to be heard, which quickly becomes an exercise in frustration- trying to herd cats, as it were. If there's one thing to be said about people, it could be that the more educated they are, the less they are able to listen.
After the tours, you get into the more specific stuff, the kind of thing that might actually be useful. What your professors look like so you don't run them over on the road, for example. Who hides in the corner at huge events, and who stands up in front feigning importance. Useful stuff.
Then, homework and book lists were distributed, and you go in search of older students to find out what you really need to know. For us, this took place in the form of a student panel.
Questions there focused on alcohol, and a relative comparison of the evilness of various professors. Professor Mom, for example, never really expects anyone to read the book, and baby talks you through the material, while Professor Genius goes through the material so fast you need a tape recorder. This is the real useful stuff, the stuff that we will need to know to survive: Come to class. If you're going to come drunk, don't come too drunk, and for god sake don't sit in the middle of the second row where you can't dash for the bathroom when you have to puke. Don't actually do the work you're assigned, delegate it to others. You're eyes *can* explode if you try to read for 36 hours strait.
After that, the official activities ended for the day, and there was a stampede for the bookstore. Books are expensive. Even not- really- real books that are just photocopies glued together by the school. Ironic how we pinch pennies for months to spend $150 a book on things we may not even read.
After the bookstore, the pinnacle of the event for many, we adjourned to a bar a few miles from campus. Introductions were made. Names exchanged, forgotten, re-exchanged, re-forgotten, and occasionally remembered, if the person was of the opposite gender and good looking. Thank goodness I brought a pen and paper. Now i just have to remember who these people actually are.
posted by Me at 7:35 PM
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