Freshman or first-year? Our class will probably never reach a consensus on the issue of our collective status. The reason for this polarizing debate is the same reason for all arguments nowadays: discrimination in the form of sexism. To some, the fact that “freshman” is used without any corresponding feminine term is an appalling representation of the ongoing subjugation of women, even in the 21st century. To them, “first-year” is preferable because it is sexless, and therefore a moderate alternative. The cause for change is understandable but irrational.
In the quaint little town of Chapel Hill, nestled in the bucolic milieu, is a population of millions that are oft neglected, or at least until they cause a commotion. They roam freely in the lounges, the bathrooms, the classrooms, the dining halls — they are everywhere. They don’t pay tuition or taxes or dues of any sort. Their only contribution to society is the misery they evoke.
Next, please! One sun-dried tomato bagel with cream cheese and hot sauce. Toasted? Yes, please. For here or to go? To go. This little exchange costs me $2.53 every single time, but it’s always worth it. When you’re starved, and ravaged by hunger, where do you go? To “the Alps,” as I like to call it. There’s usually a terribly long and daunting line, but you persevere — it’s the hunter-gatherer instinct in you.
Sometimes there’s a lull in those passing conversations in which the speakers involved experience a moment of hesitation, painfully highlighted by a scream of silence in the midst of mundane sounds.
Like any freedom, college is a test of good judgment.
Dear upperclassmen: We all know what you’re thinking when you see us. We’ve seen you smirk when we get lost and ask for directions or when we ask you for advice about classes. We can read your minds and hear your thoughts — they’re screaming “FRESHMAN.”