Clarion University of Pennsylvania - Sequelle Yearbook (Clarion, PA)

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THE LIBRARY- FRIEND OR FOE?

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The word for trying to study for a big exam in a roonn built of paper walls . . . impossible. The blaring sound of the neighbors ' new Van Halen album and the busy chit-chat of the gossipers below just didn ' t set the right mood for me to expand my knowledge. My only option ... the Carlson Library, or so I thought. But peace and quiet was hardly what I found. Studying for this test was going to be hell, and the library added to the atmosphere with the heat cranked up to what seemed sauna bath level. If I didn ' t fall asleep studying my material, I thought for sure I ' d pass out from heat exhaustion. The bottom floor seemed like a logical place to begin my search for the perfect study surroundings. I eagerly approached the pri- vate listening rooms only to be disappointed by finding them all occupied. The one appeared to be more like a semi-private bed- room with one student stretched out and face down sound asleep in the pages of his book, possibly trying to let the information soak in through osmosis. As I walked farther on between the rows and rows of books, half of which I ' m sure haven ' t been taken off the shelves since the first day they were put there, I again came up empty-handed. The place was packed! I did manage to find an unoccupied booth way in the back which allowed me ten minutes of studying. I had just pulled out the last book from my bookbag when the computers behind me began spitting out program sheets. The second floor hadn ' t looked too promising either when I walked in, with its lingering cloud of cigarette smoke and the continuous opening and closing of the main doors. Besides, it looked a bit crowded as I passed by the copy machine. Someone had tomorrow ' s Econ test; everybody and their mother seemed to be in hot pursuit of any extra dimes. And all I wanted was a place to study! The third floor was somewhat promising until this girl ap- proached me and asked if I knew where the periodicals were. For some reason she wasn ' t intimitated by the evil expression on my face and my forceful point in the general direction. She returned five minutes later asking if I could take time out of my studying to show her how to use it. No problem; my studying for some strange reason hadn ' t even begun. The fourth floor was my last hope. I sat down at a table only to discover that the fourth floor was a video gossip column. I sat in amazement at the conversations I heard. The guys in back of me discussed one ' s hot date that took place last Saturday night and why he hadn ' t gotten a good night kiss. My attention was then diverted to the opposite side of the room by continuous giggling. The girls were whispering their secrets so intently I could read their lips from three tables away. I packed my bookbag up for the last time, and headed out the door. As I walked out of Carlson Library an intense idea came to my mind. All the library needed was a couple of half kegs and the atmosphere could create the party of the year. I returned to my paper room, the blaring music, and the idle chit-chat, only to find that I had, in comparison to Carlson, peace and quiet after all. Leanne Fisher

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Classes can be as exciting as Christmas or as boring as stuff- ing envelopes. Yet every class has the potential to be thrilling as long as the correct mixture of students is present. When you enter the classroom grab a seat tovi ards the back. This enables you the opportunity to scrutinize everyone without them examining you. If you arrive a few minutes early you ' ll probably see the freshmen who show up ten minutes before class, carrying every book they own. Entering a few minutes later, the intellectuals take the front row seats to see the board better and to win brownie points with the prof. Approximately three minutes before class begins the average American students saunter in. They usually carry one notebook that looks like it barely survived the war and a Bic pen with a chewed cap. Nonchalantly these students take seats in the mid- dle of the room and by the windows. The prof now enters and the lecture starts. About ten minutes into the class a few suspicious looking guys stroll in. They may have a few pieces of loose leaf paper, but they have to borrow a pen from the intellectuals, who carry a whole pack of silver cross pens. These shady characters are usually jocks or druggies. The prof continues to teach his lesson. You can listen, but the sights going on with your peers is much m ore interesting. Well, that ' s another story. Tina Reuter llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll