No academic rest for Ivies

The Freshman Fifteen: College House results rock first years

As many of you know, College House decisions were released this week, and naturally the results caused quite a stir amongst us first years. On Monday afternoon, I had immense trouble making my way through the Smith Union. There were two reasons for this: first, it was physically challenging to get through the sea of first years huddling like penguins checking their mailboxes, and second, I had a hard time watching the reactions of my fellow compatriots as they uncovered their fate.
The whole scene was like a battlefield. I saw a stocky hockey player fight his way to his mailbox by vehemently pushing a group of petite girls out of his path. I watched two excited friends do a ritual jump hug and make some sort of strangely high-pitched chihuahua-like victory screeches as they tore open their acceptances. And then, no more than a couple feet away, I saw the fallen—a group of boys silently staring at their letters with furrowed brows reflecting upon their loss. They had been hit by the news, and it had hit them hard.
Indeed, as difficult as figuring out blocks and writing College House applications was, the process of hearing back from Residential Life offered a whole other dramatic punch. In fact, I think this week created just as much tension, if not more, than the week applications were due.

The Freshman Fifteen: ‘Freshman fifteen’ to SWUG: a look back at four years of Bowdoin

“I don’t know if you’ve ever seen the movie ‘Tangled,’ but when my parents left me all by my lonesome on the prestigious Bowdoin campus two weeks ago, I felt pretty much how I imagine Princess Rapunzel did when she left her tower: struck by a mix of horror and absolute freedom.”
At the beginning of my freshman year at Bowdoin, I wrote these words for my first article in The Orient. It was the start of “The Freshman Fifteen,” a column where I talked about my experience as a first year at Bowdoin. In many ways, this column was empowering because in a new environment, where I was totally unknown, I had an outlet to make a name for who I was going to be on campus.
The column four years ago was very light humored. I wanted my voice to be quirky and satiric because that is who I was and it is who I still am. To me, my column was wonderfully silly and dorky (take for instance the controversial “to Bean boots or not to Bean boots” debate of 2012). Still, I cannot help but realize that a lot of my column was trying to embody some sort of college stereotype of what I was supposed to be going through instead of speaking to what I was really going through.
I never mentioned that month-long period when I felt borderline depressed. I was ten pounds underweight due to health issues. My grades second semester weren’t quite matching up to the ones I had made my first. My roommates, who once had been good friends, now were barely speaking with me. Bowdoin is awesome, but not always. I definitely think one of the most difficult parts of my first-year here was that I was afraid to admit to people when I was unhappy. Somehow that felt like admitting some sort of defeat.
Luckily, those hard times were equaled by happy ones. Like when I decided to join the crew team and found a niche of people who I really clicked with, or getting a solo in BOKA and singing Little Talks by “Of Monsters and Men” with Nick Walker, or finding an eclectic German study group and forming the JJJ/three musketeers club. Also, just the German department in general. Seriously, it’s the best department at this school.
Reading the column, I am reminded of the ways in which campus has changed. Four years ago, the biggest scandals at Bowdoin were related to hazing and goldfish instead of race and cultural appropriation. Yik Yak did not exist—nor did President Clayton Rose.
I am also reminded of the ways in which I have changed. When I was a first year, I made sure to start any paper a week in advance. I was that kid that got ahead on homework every Friday and Saturday and did every single reading. I wore a lot of cute 50s style dresses with tights even when it was the middle of winter. I bought a coat because it was the same one that Zooey Deschanel had and not actually because it was warm. I wrote an article about how stressful Ivies seemed, because I didn’t understand how to get all of my work done and party at the same time.
Now, I’ve realized that skipping readings to enjoy a weekend hike or even just a late night conversation with roommates is completely okay. I remember the first paper I wrote without actually reading the book. I got an “A” even though my previous paper, in which I had read the book was graded a “B.” I garnered the power to write papers at the last minute and noticed the outcome was sometimes better because I didn’t overthink things. All of a sudden what “being a good student” meant was really confusing.
At this point in my Bowdoin career, I’ve embraced SWUG culture and love to wear oversized sweatshirts and all that. I can eat alone in the dining hall for dinner and feel like a boss. Going to a party completely sober and dancing like a weirdo is better than those parties where I spent a lot of time on my outfit and tried to act chill. Reaching the point of not caring is both an extremely freeing and somewhat frightening moment. When I try to offer these insights to the current first-years here, I notice a lot of them already know these things and are already way cooler than I am.
As I speak about senior year, I realize I’m brushing over a lot of the hard moments I have had this year. But, I’m also not quite ready to talk about them in this column, so perhaps you will have to wait another four years for the real scoop.
Now the end is nigh and I feel all the cliché mixed feelings about being ready to leave, and yet also not wanting to say goodbye. I am excited by the idea of gaining my financial independence, but have no idea how to pay taxes. Seriously, can someone teach me? What is more, I can’t help but notice that as much as I’ve changed, my prospects looking forward may not actually be so different from where I started. I ironically find myself once again “struck by a mix of horror and absolute freedom.”

The Freshman Fifteen

This piece represents the opinion of the author:

Julia Binswanger

Columnist

April 25, 2013

Fellow first years, I cannot believe how close we are to the end. Although the weather hit 32 degrees earlier this week, spring is supposedly upon us, and summer is scarily close.

It seems as if only yesterday I was writing about beer, boys and my first college house party—how young and naïve we were back then. Everything was so new and we were curious. Now, we are more comfortable in our surroundings. Bowdoin has become our second home. We are ready to move on to bigger and better things, and we are ready to go out with a bang. Ivies is upon us.

It seems as if this entire year I have been hearing about how epic Ivies will be. When I asked upperclassmen about their experience from last year, I received answers ranging from “It’s the craziest weekend of the year” to “I really enjoyed the parts I can remember.” Almost every club or sport has been ordering pinnies, T-shirts and tanks in preparation. Students have been anticipating performances for months. They are psyched to see the likes of Hoodie Allen and other musicians I’m pretending that I have heard of before. Some even started celebrating last Thursday because they couldn’t handle the anticipation.

And yet, even with all the chattering and hype over Ivies, many first years were still not prepared for this week. Yes, we were aware of the basics. There were going to be performances and certain types of refreshing beverages. However, many did not take in consideration how they would handle the weekday. What, after all, is proper Ivies etiquette?

For example, the question, “When does Ivies officially start?” is still extremely unclear to me. Does Ivies begin when the first performer hits the stage, or did it really begin last Thursday? I have friends who have been going out every night this week, and I am both amazed and terrified.

It is unfathomable how they have managed to wake up and get to class every morning.
In addition, although Ivies has been presented to us like a mini-spring break, we still have all of responsibilities that we would otherwise have. In one sense, this week has really been nothing special from every other week of the year. Teachers have still been assigning papers and tests.

There is much work to be done.

And yet, students go out anyway. This entire week I have been utterly confused about where my priorities lie. Should I have gotten that paper done, or should I have had fun with friends? Should I have skipped Friday morning’s class to get more than three hours of sleep, or was I right to suck it up? By staying in, am I missing out on a fundamental college experience?

The student body has raised the bar and reached a whole new level of casual partying. For me, going out on a Wednesday night is a phenomenon that only exists in the twilight zone and, now, Ivies week.

Ivies may have been going on for quite sometime, but we haven’t yet gotten to the best part. Performances are just starting. Those indestructible beings that have been partying all week are not taking any respite. They are going to bravely, and astonishingly, keep on going.

For many this week has been a tough balancing act of work and fun. Ivies, after all, is a paradoxical time in which you are simultaneously supposed to party like it’s 1999 and get all of your work done. As a result, first years have been unsure how to handle these past days and are still perplexed how they will gauge the upcoming weekend.

Perhaps all of this chaos is part of the appeal of Ivies. Going out on a Wednesday night is not usually a smart idea, but breaking the norms and doing something you probably shouldn’t every once in a while is a good release—especially right before finals week. So, fellow first years, I wish you good luck as you enjoy the rest of your Ivies experience. And perhaps more importantly, I wish you good luck when you wake up on Sunday morning.

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