What would it be like to live on campus again? Unlike the incoming class of 1980, today's students move into the dorm with plentiful bags and boxes--and wide-screen TVs, and gaming systems, and emotional support pets. In my freshman dorm, all it took to blow a circuit was for too many students to run their blow-dryers at the same time. We traveled light because we had to.
And I'll have to travel light when I move back on campus tomorrow. Our driveway could serve as a film location for a post-apocalyptic nightmare, but it certainly isn't suitable for driving. My husband's and son's cars are stuck on this side of the creek and the only way to get out to my car is to walk downhill through mud and clamber down a five-foot drop onto loose rocks and more mud--and then do everything in reverse on the return trip. This is dangerous enough when I'm dressed casually, but I certainly don't intend to practice my mountain-goat act while dressed for teaching Monday morning.
So I'm moving to campus. (Temporarily!) I'll pack up my teaching clothes and make the perilous climb down the hill on Sunday afternoon, and then my husband will drop me off on campus, where I'll stay in the guest apartment in one of the classroom buildings. It's bigger and more private than my freshman dorm room and I won't have to walk up the hall to shower, but in two ways it closely resembles my freshman experience: I'll take with me only what I can pack in one overstuffed bag, and I won't have access to a car. I may even end up eating in the cafeteria!
I guess I'm grateful to have somewhere to lay my head down and cry while the contractors figure out what to do about the ramp leading up to our bridge, but I really hadn't planned to live on campus during my final semester before retirement. Instead of preparing to teach, I ought to be attending freshman orientation, playing ice-breaker games, and learning the words to the alma mater.
As it happens, I already know the words to the alma mater, which begins, "Time-honored Marietta, thy walls to us are dear." Not dear enough to make me want to live within them, but beggars can't be choosers.
What I really need is a cheer squad. Think how much more motivated I would be if energetic young people waved pom-poms to cheer on my every step!
Two bits, four bits, six bits, a dollar,
If you know what "bits" are, stand up and holler!
If you're a professor, what're you doing here?
Go back home while we stand up and cheer!
Give me an O!
Give me a U!
Give me a C!
Give me an H!
What's that spell?
OUCH!
What's it mean?
Ancient knees can't play this game!
What do we care?
Not a whit!
What are we gonna do?
Play it anyway!
O-U-C-H OUCH OUCH OUCH
Well I guess I won't be pursuing a second career as a writer of school cheers. But anyone who wants to give it a shot should do so in the comments.
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