My friend Joanna says “Come on, we’re late,’ and encourages me out the door. In her hand she holds her key chain as we head to breakfast. She is not wearing a coat. She does not have her cell phone. Joanna is a senior at her college and gets pancakes and fresh fruit every morning about a minute and thirty seconds from her door, which she does not lock. Joanna lives on a small residential campus in California and sometimes I am jealous.
Boston University has given me my freedom and urban anonymity out here in Allston, or more importantly the illusion of independence and urban anonymity. There are students, maybe even seniors, at BU who wake up and begin the day with only their BU ID and a pair of flip flops, but even these students eventually have to cross a street with traffic lights and public transportation. Even these students are not guaranteed to all go to the same party, certainly not one hosted by the university, as in Joanna’s case.
As Jo has insisted over the years, the small campus has its drawbacks. But I am tempted to say that these students can travel light. They can run out their doors to dinner at any moment. Going to class does not include calculating how soaked you might get waiting for the 57 versus how soaked you might get waiting for the B Line. For their profile as flexible, multidimensional beings, I’ve begun to think we’re a little constrained, and the town folk of a smaller campus are the brazen and spontaneous ones. Her campus, presumably because of its size and insularity, allows students a sweet sort of recklessness.
The most notable trait of the smaller campus is its suspension from cell phone usage. There isn’t a complete freedom from phones, but Jo’s compatriots are about six times more likely to run into each other. Then again, how could you hide? Catching someone at dinner can mean walking into the dining hall and looking around. In the computer lab where Joanna is working on a difficult homework assignment, she is already surrounded by at least three classmates and one girl who is about to be late to the meeting they’re both heading off too. If Jo has forgotten a book, fortunately she can run back to her room, because her room in just across the courtyard. While our professors may not even notice if we miss a lecture course, Joanna’s professors know her so well she has the option of writing an explanatory email and they will send one back saying they hope she feels better.
Joanna has had enough. She wants to move straight into the city upon graduating, and I don’t blame her &- but as I drag my feet towards graduation, I’m going to miss the pieces of college a small campus embraces most. It is the common space and chance encounters that speak college to me, quad or no quad.
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