There's No Place Like... Suddenly, I was surrounded by the long. empty hallway of the dorm I would call home for a year ... Thousands of faces (it seemed) some confident, some as scared as mine ... meetings to attend. forms to fill out ... and heavy boxes to haul up three /tights of stairs; such was the strange beginning of my freshman year. Strange indeed! The all足 campus picnic was lun (if you could find a place to sit) but
the Dogpatch Olympics were some足 thing else. Along with many other freshmen, I made a fool of myself doing the izzy dizzy. But when our team won, it made up for the grass stains and mud embedded on my jeans. Convocation was impressive:
"
especially the black-robed profs in their colors marching to
the "Processional of Joy." I wondered if they'd look so stern in class. I got a chance to meet some of them the next day, when the frash were introduced to the profs who taught classes in our particular fields of inter足 est. As I spoke with them, I realized that some had just gotten out of school, and were not much older than I.
For a while, I was a lit足 tle stunned by the unfamiliarity of it all: completely new home, friends and way of life. But after being saturated with wing meetings, freshmen orientation meetings. and campus tours with cheery-voiced guides
for a week, I felt thoroughly orientated. Now, to go forth and conquer! But my real introduction to college life came one fine Monday morning. when all the freshmen on my wing were rudely awakened at 6:30 a.m. and sent