2008 Woodie Awards
Freshman Column
Dani Castioni
Issue date: 9/7/07 Section: Opinion
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Week two of college has begun and come to an end, and already I am feeling a strangely familiar pattern in my lifestyle, though the change from high school still leaves room for adapting. After an extremely enjoyable long weekend, I awoke early on Tuesday morning and shuffled off to class, still wiping the crumblies out of my eyes as I took my seat in the metal chair that seemed too cold to be allowed in the muggy town that is Hoboken. After saying hello to friends I hadn't realized were even in my class, I realized I was also saying hello to a professor who most definitely did not teach my class. So, as innocently as possible, I sidled out of the classroom and walked quickly to the right place.
When I entered, the professor (the correct one this time) gave me a look that suggested my lateness had just destroyed some precious balance among the universe, and I should be ashamed of myself. So, naturally, I put on my best smile and prayed that the ceiling would crush me at that point so I wouldn't have to explain anything. "I went to the wrong class," I mumbled as my face became indistinguishable from a tomato. However, the embarrassment seemed to provide evidence for my story, and the professor smiled through his formerly hardened expression as he turned to teach the class. I sunk down guiltily into my chair, but all my problems were soon forgotten as I delved into my class work.
In my next class, I spent my time frantically taking notes as I and my fellow classmates pleaded with the professor to please put the previous transparency back on the projector, but our cries went unnoticed. When my computer died five minutes before the class ended, I accepted the much-needed break and proceeded to text message until we were released from the lecture hall.
I think I took "Hal" seriously when he said to "Get involved, get involved, get involved." Thus my night was spent running from dinner to the library, the library to a newspaper meeting, the newspaper meeting to the RHA meeting, the RHA meeting to the library, the library to the…anyway, you get the point. Apparently it only gets worse (or better, depending on what you're interested in doing). I don't even know how anyone does it, but apparently we will also learn time management here.
When I entered, the professor (the correct one this time) gave me a look that suggested my lateness had just destroyed some precious balance among the universe, and I should be ashamed of myself. So, naturally, I put on my best smile and prayed that the ceiling would crush me at that point so I wouldn't have to explain anything. "I went to the wrong class," I mumbled as my face became indistinguishable from a tomato. However, the embarrassment seemed to provide evidence for my story, and the professor smiled through his formerly hardened expression as he turned to teach the class. I sunk down guiltily into my chair, but all my problems were soon forgotten as I delved into my class work.
In my next class, I spent my time frantically taking notes as I and my fellow classmates pleaded with the professor to please put the previous transparency back on the projector, but our cries went unnoticed. When my computer died five minutes before the class ended, I accepted the much-needed break and proceeded to text message until we were released from the lecture hall.
I think I took "Hal" seriously when he said to "Get involved, get involved, get involved." Thus my night was spent running from dinner to the library, the library to a newspaper meeting, the newspaper meeting to the RHA meeting, the RHA meeting to the library, the library to the…anyway, you get the point. Apparently it only gets worse (or better, depending on what you're interested in doing). I don't even know how anyone does it, but apparently we will also learn time management here.