The Eighth Page

Lights Out — Shhhhh!

If you don’t know anything about Warcraft 3, then don’t bother reading this article… WAIT! Do continue reading this article because it is about something greater than weekend LAN parties and Dungeons and Dragons. It is about freshman girls. Though seemingly harmless to an innocent bystander, these girls, or at least the ones in Nathan Hale, are malicious. I must admit, though, that when they’re not dragging me out into the Sanctuary with my hands tied behind my back or stealing my bike and throwing it into Rabbit Pond, where it melts due to the radioactive nature of the swamp, they’re generally pretty nice. But maybe that’s because they don’t really know who I am. As Natalie Kaiser ’07 and Emma Wood ’07 [Editor’s Note: Clem’s sister] both state, “The creepy upperclassman who hangs out on our hall and uses our bathroom far too frequently.” I am also sometimes thought of as another freshman because of my inability to check my own voicemail or successfully open my mailbox. Some just don’t know my name. Sarah Beattie ’07, the Juniors’ 6-foot tall leader, stood over me and asked me, in a menacing tone, if my name was Jen. I just smiled, nodded, and fainted. What happened next, I don’t really know, but when I regained consciousness, I was sitting in front of the TV watching “The O.C.” Knowing that every freshmen girl in Nathan Hale wants to watch “The O.C.,” but cannot due to the No-TV-During-Study-Hours rule, I sat alone and watched while some of my self-confidence slowly came back to me. They would often swoop through the common room, hitting me with a coffee mug or two, but I have grown strong and adapted to this kind of torture and fired right back with restriction and early lights-out. In a power-tripping frenzy, I demanded that each be in bed by 6:15 the following night without dinner and that they each pay me $2 so that I may pay for my History 300 course fee. Even through the torture and disregard for my rules, as a good prefect, I still find time to take care of each of these girls as if they were one of my own children. With threatening men such as the “Phantom del Amour” and Matt Fram ’04 looming over them, they have to watch their every move. Confidentiality is not something that many freshmen get. Each time they speak in a private conversation, a prefect is usually tapping their phone line or listening to them through strategically placed microphones that were inserted in Nathan Hale’s recent face-lift. Also, as many Nathan Hale prefects before me have done, I often venture out into the woods late at night to look into their windows. I walk quietly over the cracking branches, going unnoticed, watching them intently. Even with the shades drawn, I can still see what I’m looking for: lights, of course. With the 11:00 lights out policy firmly stated to each of them, each night I assume their lights will be out, but they rarely are. It could also be the newly installed flood lights to deter intruders in the Sanctuary reflecting off their windows, but when punishment can be dealt, it often is. Being a prefect is more than just a TV and a refrigerator, it is also the chance to make others suffer, and we take full advantage of that capability. Living with a good number of girls from this year’s freshman class has opened me up to many new things, including the fact that no one in their right mind should ever move from Day Hall to the Knoll in order to enhance their college applications. The pain that has been inflicted on me in just the past few days is enough to make even the most highly regarded educational institutions not worth it, except maybe Great Deserted Cow Field Community College in my homeland of Wisconsin. I’m coming home, Bessie.