I meet the Collegiate Club in their collegiate meeting spot: Lamont Library’s Larsen Room. Reclining in their chairs, these freshmen greet me with faces bright with excitement. They want to convince Harvard that they are putting out a quality product with their online fashion blog. I want to tell them this is not Stanford— we don’t just make things happen around here; we first try to comp and seek entry to the Acropolis of exclusive organizations.
The interuniversity trade routes between Yale and Harvard opened earlier this month by the proclamation of CS50’s export to Yale College, which is in Connecticut. This is no small step. CS50 is the best bioweapon we have engineered. With its t-shirts and free stuff, we are hopeful that it will divide the Yale campus into two groups: those who wear the “I took CS50” T-shirts, and those who do not. But this export should not be the last one by any means. FM considers other authentic items that Harvard has to offer to this time-honored rival for its betterment:
There are only a few things, less than I imagined there would be, from my pre-college years that remain present in my thoughts. I have lost interest in the chaos of my city, Istanbul, in the “mosaic” of its culture, in the nebulous (substitute: sketchy) politics of my country. Only a few characters from my past follow me around Harvard Yard as I pace from the two opposite edges (and intellectual spheres) of the campus, from Northwest Labs to Emerson Hall.
A young Holyoke of the Class of 1746 chronicled the happenings at Harvard College before his admission: “1742, June 2. Foundation of the Chapel Laid Some part of ye begin’g of this month. [sic]” Thus he recorded the beginning of a symbolic change in the Harvard Yard: the construction of its first chapel. Despite the many religious commitments of Harvard men, who read the Scriptures multiple times in a day and practiced the teachings of the Bible, a century went by until Holden was built.
Going to Iceland for spring break was not my idea, really. My friend, a senior who will soon be a working woman in a tall, mighty tower in New York City, wanted to have one last trip before she committed to a no vacation offer. The location remained undetermined for months. Darjeeling, as advertised by Wes Anderson, was a good candidate considering the mission of the trip, but Reykjavik, as advertised by Icelandair on the T, won the competition with cheaper fares.
Once a month, a group of ten to 20 people push the shelves in the left room of the Harvard Book Store to make space for their discussion. They’ve just finished reading a book for the month’s meeting. The regulars exchange glances as they look around at the new faces.