Event - Camp Friends and Enemies
Three hundred and fifty identical tee-shirts sitting on tables don't look menacing, but they can make a campus look like a cult retreat in a hurry once everybody puts them on. Even when they're all wearing different clothes, there is something unsettling about the scholars. Maybe everyone is just trying to fit in, but if they are, they're good at pretending that they don't want to be here, let alone to learn something.
My roommate is just about as ideal as I could imagine. For instance, he's an Eagle Scout, so he can't steal anything from me. Maybe they actually use the personality profiles that we filled out.
At first, I didn't think I knew many people here. I talked with "David", then with "Alia" (who asked "Remember me?" (?)). Still, I saw several low-level acquaintances: "Sean", a small wheel on the L'nc'ln Quick Recall team who often mentioned that he used to swim. My substitute French teacher from Freshman year, Eric, is the Drama teacher. After that, it's mostly second-degree ("Yeah-yeah, I met Zeke. He's cool." or "Liz M'rr's'n told me that same story at church camp.")I'm sure I've seen most of these people on the at conventions, competitions, or on the Interstate. One guy came up to me and asked if I was at the [college] Soccer Camp, and then I remembered him since we were on the same team.
Late last night, in the bathroom on my floor, a guy from Rowan County started a conversation with me by the sinks. "Do you know D'g Pr'st'n? He used to be at [your school], right?"
"Yeah."
"Well, he's my football coach, and he's a bitch."
I recounted D'g's exploits at [my school[, including how he was permanently banned. He laughed. "I'm not surprised," Rowan guy said, then made me describe K'lv'n T'rn'r, and [my school]'s starting lineup in great detail.
In another, simpler universe, I am taking Japanese. But the stories go that the Japanese instructor has either disappeared, refused to come, or been delayed at an airport. In one version that I heard in Russian class, he/she was delayed at the airport for two years. In any case, he's not here, and I'm studying Russian. Unlike many of the majors, which seem to be improvising, we have a text book. Fortunately, there's some solidarity in the Russian group. While others participated in the group dancing on the lawn, we formed our own circle and tried to pronounce the word for 'hello', which is Zdrastvoytyuh. Russian class seems to already fill some of the requirements for a cult. The teacher gave us new names, and nicknames, so the students will have to learn three names in a week.
Maybe I was meant to take Russian, though. When I registered yesterday, the teacher said, "You are from this same town, so you know L'c'nd' S'nd'rs? She is your new headmaster, yes?" Somehow the Ukrainian man met her and still keeps in touch.
Last night, I mentioned Cross-Country to my roommate, a guy from W'lt'n-V'r'n' High, and our R.A. So we planned to wake up and run at seven a.m. When I looked in the hall this morning there were five guys wearing running shoes. Outside, there were fourteen more guys. A lot of them decided not to follow me, but what do I know? I was glad that I ran early, since the sun woke me up at six a.m. anyway.
At at least one Soccer Camp, the director gave a long speech about staying away from the Scholars ("They're trying to learn!"). The opening meeting of GSP cautioned against speaking to the girl campers ("Don't be that scholar!"). I tried to say hello to 'll's'n B'k'r and M'ck'nz' Mc'f' today, but within moments, somebody of mid-level authority shouted, "Yerrrhhh, not supposed to talk to the Soccer campers". Apparently, we're betraying the community to speak to anyone outside of it.
My roommate is just about as ideal as I could imagine. For instance, he's an Eagle Scout, so he can't steal anything from me. Maybe they actually use the personality profiles that we filled out.
At first, I didn't think I knew many people here. I talked with "David", then with "Alia" (who asked "Remember me?" (?)). Still, I saw several low-level acquaintances: "Sean", a small wheel on the L'nc'ln Quick Recall team who often mentioned that he used to swim. My substitute French teacher from Freshman year, Eric, is the Drama teacher. After that, it's mostly second-degree ("Yeah-yeah, I met Zeke. He's cool." or "Liz M'rr's'n told me that same story at church camp.")I'm sure I've seen most of these people on the at conventions, competitions, or on the Interstate. One guy came up to me and asked if I was at the [college] Soccer Camp, and then I remembered him since we were on the same team.
Late last night, in the bathroom on my floor, a guy from Rowan County started a conversation with me by the sinks. "Do you know D'g Pr'st'n? He used to be at [your school], right?"
"Yeah."
"Well, he's my football coach, and he's a bitch."
I recounted D'g's exploits at [my school[, including how he was permanently banned. He laughed. "I'm not surprised," Rowan guy said, then made me describe K'lv'n T'rn'r, and [my school]'s starting lineup in great detail.
In another, simpler universe, I am taking Japanese. But the stories go that the Japanese instructor has either disappeared, refused to come, or been delayed at an airport. In one version that I heard in Russian class, he/she was delayed at the airport for two years. In any case, he's not here, and I'm studying Russian. Unlike many of the majors, which seem to be improvising, we have a text book. Fortunately, there's some solidarity in the Russian group. While others participated in the group dancing on the lawn, we formed our own circle and tried to pronounce the word for 'hello', which is Zdrastvoytyuh. Russian class seems to already fill some of the requirements for a cult. The teacher gave us new names, and nicknames, so the students will have to learn three names in a week.
Maybe I was meant to take Russian, though. When I registered yesterday, the teacher said, "You are from this same town, so you know L'c'nd' S'nd'rs? She is your new headmaster, yes?" Somehow the Ukrainian man met her and still keeps in touch.
Last night, I mentioned Cross-Country to my roommate, a guy from W'lt'n-V'r'n' High, and our R.A. So we planned to wake up and run at seven a.m. When I looked in the hall this morning there were five guys wearing running shoes. Outside, there were fourteen more guys. A lot of them decided not to follow me, but what do I know? I was glad that I ran early, since the sun woke me up at six a.m. anyway.
At at least one Soccer Camp, the director gave a long speech about staying away from the Scholars ("They're trying to learn!"). The opening meeting of GSP cautioned against speaking to the girl campers ("Don't be that scholar!"). I tried to say hello to 'll's'n B'k'r and M'ck'nz' Mc'f' today, but within moments, somebody of mid-level authority shouted, "Yerrrhhh, not supposed to talk to the Soccer campers". Apparently, we're betraying the community to speak to anyone outside of it.