With all of the ordeals and issues happening around the world and on this campus, some very critical ones just don't get enough attention. Here at Dartmouth, we obviously talk a lot about space: social space, living space, etc, but we just don't have enough discussion about study space.
It's not a fun issue; I, like most people, hate to "study." I hate gathering up my stuff, putting on my little backpack and leaving my room, all in order to go read something I don't want to read. But now, there really is nowhere to go. No place to study, nowhere to sit and no way to get any work done.
Indeed, it's a hopeless situation, sadder for some of us than for others, but probably a dilemma for us all. I admire those of you that have managed to get by, even succeed in this environment; and I sympathize greatly with those of you on the brink of giving up and tossing those little book-filled knapsacks in the garbage.
Though I've stewed over this issue for some time, I have recently encountered several other sufferers, sufferers whose panic has driven them to great lengths, searching blindly for an answer and a seemingly unavailable source of help.
And thus, as the self-appointed spokesperson of idiots and studying-impaired members of the community, I hope to begin the dialogue needed to raise awareness of this sad and pressing problem... and hopefully to do it before we all fail out of school.
The saddest, most hopeless cases deserve mention purely to acquaint those unfamiliar with this crisis of its seriousness and of the critical impact it has on our group. People like me really can't be saved, but we can fight for the good of the rest of the studyless.
You see, I was born into my problem. Due probably to my mother's genes (as she too suffers), I am allergic to libraries. Others, as well, have been diagnosed, but the allergy is rare. It is rare my friends, but quite severe.
This ailment, this affliction of serious consequence, affects both the mind and body. We the afflicted, can enter libraries to check out a book or to listen to a story or to join a summer reading club, but we cannot stay.
It's the darkness, the unavoidable stuffiness of the air, the narrow walkways in endless directions and the quiet, My God, the quiet. It's the smell of the old, musty books and the visions of horror stories that start in the stacks.
To tell of libraries, to describe their most terrifying parts cannot be done. Libraries are mysterious institutions, enigmatic entities of ghosts, dust and uncanny silence. They are not for people; they are not for the living.
I remember being a little kid, raised by a really great mom " a mom, I must mention, who loves reading and was even an English major in college " but who was allergic to libraries.
So unlike most families who took walks to libraries, browsed the shelves and dawdled around, we made the trips fast, bolting inside to grab a few books as quick as we could and running out before the library could pull us in. And thanks to such training, I've survived in this library-filled world.
You see, we get scared in libraries. Our minds lose control; they race, and cannot even consider reading one of those books on the shelves. Our bodies also suffer; many of us get physically ill, upset stomachs or the shakes. It's serious, it's painful, and it's horrible.
On top of that, we are socially stigmatized. Who hates libraries? You can't admit the fear or the sickness without being ostracized. It's bad, and it's not getting any better (especially for those of us with a lot of reading in our futures).
But we are not the only ones who can't study. We are indeed perhaps the most traumatized, but not necessarily the most inconvenienced.
I mean, are people actually expected to get work done in the stacks? I've obviously never attempted it, but it sounds to me like it's pretty dark and unfriendly for most people. And the reserve corridor? People get food delivered there; it's no place to study.
Some people try Collis, I guess, but that's insanely crowded and loud. And for a college town, Hanover doesn't have many restaurants and cafes conducive to reading.
I have a friend with access to a pretty cool lounge in an icky science building, which actually works pretty well for reading, but not many have that kind of option.
So the rest of us are doomed to academic lives spent trying to get stuff done in dorm rooms (like that ever works) and terrifyingly creepy dorm basements. We are doomed to fail and to spend our college careers wondering how people have possibly done it before. And worst of all, some of us can't even go check out a book to calm us down.
