First years, welcome to the greatest four years of your life at the best college in the country. Here at the University, you'll find plenty of traditions. Soon, you'll go to Convocation. You'll discover there's a river on the Lawn. You might even streak the Lawn and go steam tunneling. But, you already know all about those customs. I'm going to fill you in on a lesser-known and more recent tradition: nerding.
Imagine this. You're walking to the library or even the dining hall to meet up with some of your future best friends. A car pulls up beside you. The passenger rolls down the window and asks, "Do you know where Ackerman Library is?" You, feeling kind and intelligent, like you know your way around Grounds, answer, "You mean Alderman?" The driver and the passenger yell "nerd!" or "first year!" and drive away. Congratulations, you've been nerded. You are a part of this University tradition. It's up to you to decide which of these insults is worse. See, you're a nerd because you knew the name of the library, and you were pretentious enough to correct the passengers. And you're a first year, because you fell for it.
Everyone else at the University is getting angry now as I am letting you in on this little prank. But I do it out of guilt and fairness.
It started out like a regular January night my second year. I went to O-Hill with a bunch of girls from my first-year hall, who turned out to be some of my best friends. We'd been joking about how first years needed to learn their place, even though for all intents and purposes they run O-Hill. Once we got in the car, it more or less became a dare, and I'm not one to shy away from a challenge. I stopped the car abruptly in front of the Chemistry Building bus stop. I rolled down the window and asked two quiet-looking girls if they knew where I could find "Clemson Library." They looked first at each other and then at me with slight confusion, until one replied, "Do you mean Clemons?" I stared back in awe, and simultaneously everyone in my car yelled "NERDDDD!" The entire car roared with laughter. As we drove away, one of the girls muttered, "I knew that was going to happen."
Yet the laughter faded by the time we reached Clark. I began to feel horrible. My mother would knock me into next week if she knew about what I just did. I was a mean girl; I was Regina George. I picked on innocent people. If they had been fully prepared, they might not have fallen for it.
Thus, this column is my way of repenting for my sin, asking those girls for forgiveness and warning you, young first year. This is, in a way, a public service announcement. Consider this your forewarning. Grant us this small, cruel pleasure. We'll help you when you can't find your class. We'll send you the syllabus because you forgot to pick one up and can't figure out how Collab works yet.
As big siblings pick on the youngsters, let us have our fun. Sooner than you know, you'll be in our place - wondering how you're not a first year anymore.
Like Prometheus has his liver pecked out each day, I would be nerded each night if I could be a first year again. First year was the best year of my life. No matter how badly I want to be sitting in the unfamiliar JPJ watching a capella groups for the first time at the Welcome Back Concert, I can't go back. I want to live on Dabney Second Right for the rest of my life, in that room I thought looked more like a jail cell than a bedroom when I moved in with a then-complete stranger. So even if you move in on the hottest day of the year or some mean girl calls you a nerd, I guarantee you are in for the most exciting year you've ever had. I'll see you at the Welcome Back Concert tonight and even at the Activities Fair Monday, too. This time, I promise I'll be nice!
Abbi's column normally runs biweekly Tuesdays. She can be reached at a.sigler@cavalierdaily.com.
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