We go to college to mature, develop, and evolve into intelligent adults. So, then why does it feel like preschool in your dorm?
Everywhere there are colored paper cutouts on bulletin boards and “cute” little sayings in the girl’s bathroom like, “If you sprinkle when you tinkle, please be neat and wipe the seat.” Would you see this at home? Would you see this at your workplace?
Those roommate compatibility surveys are a conspiracy as well. They’re actually sanity tests used to place the sanest people with the most insane and create chaos. It’s Temple’s version of “The Real World”. “Ahh ha ha ha-this will be fun to watch,” the housing people cackle as they match up in their computer database.
Don’t believe me? Think about this: There are always at least three or four people on a floor who switch rooms less than a month into the semester. And there’s at least one hallway fight every semester complete with clawing, scratching and hysterical death threats.
Have you ever wondered how they can afford to only charge a quarter a cup for Ramen Noodle soup? It’s a complete meal in cup. It has Styrofoam and plastic packaging, noodles, vegetables, and even dehydrated cubes of meat.
I figured it out that one semester’s meal plan is equivalent to 6,000 cups of Ramen Noodle Soup. That’s one more thing college cafeterias don’t want you to know. That, and what’s really in the ground meat.
Remember in the beginning of last year there was that poor, cute boy who didn’t have a clue about doing laundry? He would ask all of the girls for help, and knowing that guys won’t even stop and to ask for directions, you felt honored to help out this poor soul.
Well, this year that same boy lives in a different dorm and does the EXACT same thing all over gain. It’s the college form of a pick-up line. “Hey, baby, can I mix colors with my fine washables?”
Colleges charge for some of the dumbest things: “Recreation Fee”, “Services Fee”, “Breathing Fee”, “Air Fee”. I don’t want to give them any more ideas, but can you imagine how much money Temple would make if they charged $1 a pop for the “Men of Summer” poster?
When you were in high school and were going on tours of colleges and talked to people, I bet you remember someone saying that they were in their “third year.” Now you’re the one telling prospective students you’re in your third year.
Temple students know that tentative graduation dates are just that – tentative. The term “junior” is elusive and based on the number of credits a student has, but things happen and credits get lost. Students transfer schools. Classes are dropped. “Third year” is a little more encompassing — a little more vague.
“Junior” implies one is going to graduate in four years, but let’s be honest. This is Temple.
Interestingly, this has the opposite effect for a fifth-year senior. They don’t say they’re in their “Fifth year”. They’re just a “senior.”
Remember the tour leaders at the open houses in the fall? They were the junior biochemistry majors who had 70 credits, AP credit, 3.8 GPAs and were homecoming queen or king.
The one thing that you could wait a few days to get in the mail is, of course, your semester bill. Your bill is, without fail, early every time. Your Dean’s List letter, however, finally arrives 3 months late. At that point it’s so far in the past that it has lost its luster. Even your parents are like, “Yeah, so what? That accomplishment was three months ago—get over yourself!”
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