The Eighth Page

Junior Spring

Our tribe is strong, but the times do not bode well for us. Never before have we seen such sights as these: the senior galloping across campus, plastic spoon in hand, and the occasional upper coming out of its work to take in extra air. We have not seen them before for we are a special kind of people – a different kind of people. We are freshman, and this is freshman spring. Every time I think back on the mere two terms that I have attended this academy, I begin to hear the “Wonder of it All” theme song of Foxwoods. ‘Tis true, I reminisce, but I also live for the moment. That moment, of course, is springtime – a season of love, warm weather, and the occasional library lockdown. This being my first spring term at Andover, it has been oh so very exciting, and I have reveled in its wonder for the past month. Never before have I witnessed cookies growing on cherry trees, or seniors playing four square so flawlessly. So much is new to me, and so much have I to learn. If it is alright, I would like to delve into the freshman spring term topic with a personal experience of mine, and of how I know it not to be the pure, innocent “fun time with freshman” you have come to know and love. ‘Twas a casual Tuesday morning as I walked to first period English class. Had I known this day would become a nightmare, I would not have started it off by “accidentally” tripping a senior who was attempting not to be “spooned” and then consequentially getting “hazed” for being a “typical freshman.” After a good five minutes of being forced to make love to the Japanese monument outside of Bullfinch while whistling a Shakira song and at the same time being forced to punch myself in the face whilst surrounding seniors yelled “stop hitting yourself,” I was able to attend class. Bruised, slightly humiliated, and suddenly feeling the springtime love drive, I was not able to concentrate on class. So I did what any frosh in my case would do. I started a revolution. Not a big one – I just got up and left the classroom, imagining the rest of the class following me as Twisted Sister’s “We’re Not Gonna Take It” began to blast throughout campus. It just so happened that I had no followers and the teacher closed the door behind me. And that’s when it hit me. A spit ball. This was just not my day. I decided to head over to commons and have a second breakfast. Perhaps they had some of those delicious Lucky Charms. They didn’t, and I want to point out that Raisin Bran is for squares. Again, not my day. How could this be happening? My freshman spring, once full of joy and amazement, was crashing down on me. And it hurt – it hurt a lot. Yet my day was not quite over. It so happened that a bunch of other freshman were really tired of biology projects and the whatnot of it, and they too wished to be free. I’m not quite sure what happened then, but we had a great time, some jolly laughs, and then they made me their chief. So here I am, letting my feelings run free. I hope to see better times one day. Perhaps a day when our people may gain respect. Perhaps that day is soon, and perhaps Gordon Murphy ’06 will stop beating me up in the locker room every Wednesday afternoon. Perhaps.