Freshmen Spring: Oh man, I’m back after spring break. Yeah, I’d say I’m pretty comfortable here. I know my way around, I’ve found my group of friends, and I only call my parents twice a day. Upper Spring: These are the worst days of my life. Oh, look at those seniors, sitting on the lawn, playing their music, unfolding their chairs…just one more year of this. Senior Spring: Damn, I got spooned! Now how will I occupy my time? So want to hear my schedule? Alright, so no classes on Mondays and Thursdays, that’s a given. And on Wednesdays I only have African Drumming at night. Tuesdays are pretty tough, I have to wake up by 11 if I want to go downtown before my Ornithology class. Yeah I signed up for an AP but uh, just didn’t take it. The only thing that would make this sweeter is if I had gotten into college. There you have the most common stereotypes associated with the spring term at Andover for each class. But strangely, the typical spring for Andover’s 227th class, the Lowers, was not included. To truly understand what Lower Spring is like, you must experience an entire day as a Lower during the spring. Now, you could follow around some lower you know, but I’ll write about my average day as a Lower instead. That way, I can lie, glorify myself, and make up friends that compliment me and bring me pastries. 7:57 A.M. Time to wake up. I slowly rise from my peaceful slumber and toss on a pair of short shorts that say “Oh Eight” on the butt. I run down the stairwell as fast as I can, trying to get to the bottom before the door above me closes. 8:07 AM. Arrive at Theater, late. I stagger through the door, bloodied from my brutal fall in the stairwell. I’m here because I’m satisfying my theater requirement, and because I love waking up early and playing warm up games in a big circle. 9:53 AM. Head downstairs to Ryley. Every morning during conference period, I grab a blueberry muffin in Ryley. Then I ‘conference’ with Ethel, the cashier woman. When I try to change the channel from ‘The Price is Right,’ Ethel escorts me out of Ryley. 12:00 PM. History class is over, I head to lunch. I pass by the phallic statue and make a smug remark to one of my friends. At lunch, I get the wrap. Wilma, the sandwich lady, tells me that it does not really count as the ‘wrap of the day’ when I make so many changes. I just tell her my turkey club actually means roast beef, mayo and muenster cheese on matzah. To round out the meal, I eat an apple with a knife. Everyone at my table is very intimidated. 2:49 PM. All of my classes are over, I hustle back to my dorm to get changed for JV tennis. 2:51 PM. Coach Mo’s angry face is appears as the elevator doors slide open on the third floor. Apparently, our elevators are for the handicapped. Regardless, I’ll still grip that railing in the big shower so I don’t slip. 3:42 PM. Tennis was fun. Doubles partner Lawrence Dai (aka Larry D) and I really tore it up out there. Girls JV will never challenge us again. 8:34 PM. Study hours began about a half hour ago. I signed in, and then watched Mark Spitz swim to seven golds on ESPN Classic. 10:47 PM. After doing some homework and prank calling my roommate a few times (He yells “I know that’s you breathing” from his room) I get ready for bed. I grab a quick shower. As usual, a PG steals my towel. I let it slide because I know he needs to dry off his young son, who just got out of the bath. 11:13 PM. After laughing to myself, knowing that the Juniors are all asleep (or under their covers with a flashlight, sweating profusely and listening for their prefects coming up the hallway) I think of what to do before bed. Maybe I will call a girl, of course with a prepared list of conversation topics, jokes and palindromes at hand. I decide against it, as I have yet to update my list. 2:16 AM. I got distracted rating all of my music on iTunes…for three hours. Now, I go to sleep. That, my friends, is a typical day in Lower Spring. Well, I guess that could be winter term as well, but I would have inserted a few instances where I make a small fire in my room to warm myself and cook my food.
