College of William and Mary - Colonial Echo Yearbook (Williamsburg, VA)

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Freshmen from Hunt and Tyler A, B, and Annex volley the ball around during a picnic in September — Ptioto by Barry Long. m i • whose scant memories of William and Mary came back as scattered scraps of a candidate for college in a tourist town? Written words from summer letters be- tween roommates-to-be (each desper- ately trying to picture that person be- tween the lines) finally verbalized face-to- face in that single, soft-spoken, Are you my roommate? statement. For whether the ringing from the Wren building stirred up unsuppressible exhilaration or a gnawing pit in the stomach of the upperc- lassman, at least he had some inkling of what was in store. Colleges, like people, are judged on outward appearances first. ' Well, it ' s not the Holiday Inn, ' was my father ' s first comment, conceded Karen Work from Barrett. But however dorms were deemed (many thought Barrett was one of the bigger and better), the gorgeous campus was the overriding initial im- pression — one rarely denied. But what about the personality of the place? To many freshmen, the first day was endless — speech after speech, the mile-long line for dinner, the heat, those name games from third grade, and the dorm meetings at nine — the last thing anyone wanted to sit through after a tense, exhausting, though admittedly ex- citing day. Next came the placement ex- ams that everyone laughed at, though they hardly were amusing, and lines, lines, lines again for ID ' s, film passes, refrigerators, check cashing, books, meals, and shaking hands with President Graves. Triple trips to the post office all in one day, races down the hall to snatch the ringing phone, late-night bull sessions with the ever-present popcorn, party hopping and the Pub (making nights pass quickly and days start slowly . . . very slowly) were the essence of col- lege life for the first freshmen weeks. Beer, beer, beer, became the beverage of the wined and dined freshman — it seemed to show up everywhere. Yet mixed in with the whirlwind were Auntie Em thoughts of that humble abode with one freshly-abandoned bed (and a living room, a dining room, a mom and a dad) — minute-one of freshman phone calls home was filled with anxious giggles, yet minute-ten had often triggered the tears behind the laughs. Apparently, the mellow music was enough to keep these students hanging around at the SA- sponsored blue grass festival at Lake Matoaka — no beer ever showed up when the ABC license fell through — Photo by Barry Long Openng Weeks — Freshmer 15

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A Charm still Infectious Ah, back to the Burg! At least for three- fourths of the troops laden with boxes, bags, books and clothes bulging against car windows and nnushed into trunks, it was a return trip. Some of the charm so apparent to tourists was even infectious at first; Gee, you know, this place wouldn ' t be half bad if I could just hang out and take care of my everyday errands without having to fool around with classes, The novelty of being back in Williams- burg, however, certainly seemed short- lived. The three and a half months of fad- ing familiarity with Commons cuisine, competitive classes, and cross-campus cantering all came rushing back with astonishing rapidity: I don ' t care where you spent your summer — in China or just hanging around the house — it ' s amaz- ing how the whole routine falls right into place after being back for two days. It ' s as if you were never gone. But what about the uninitiated quarter At their traditional reception for freshmen. Presi- dent and Mrs Graves wish the newcomers well in September Unfortunately, even this more pleasur- able aspect of orientation Involved lining up again — Photo by Barry Long Amused by the conversation at the President s Reception, freshman Lyie Lesesne en|oys a beauti- ful Sunday afternoon — Photo by Barry Long 14 Freshmen — Opening Weeks

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The Big Debut But eventually the routine took its roots. The once-glazed gaze at the green machines rolling by had sharpened into an annoyed expression and wrist-watch checking for the bus that was ten minutes off schedule. I ' m going home was gra- dually naturally synonymous with head- ing for the dorm. I ' m going ' Swemming ' became a passe phrase for heading to- ward the library — where, sadly enough, the fresh graffiti on restroom walls was instantly ascertained. And that dilemma of a decision — Should I stay and study longer or have a clean pair of underwear to put on in the morning? — had been pondered more than once. Though a beautiful campus and hectic schedule were the standard assess- ments of the first few weeks, the attitudes after settling in were not so one-sided; It ' s not that different from high school — I went to private school — more work of the same type. Very different from high school. I went to a small private girls ' school. . . .it ' s not as wild as I imagined. ... the parties are a lot more wild than I had expected. I didn ' t expect this great social life — I had only hoped it would be like this. Socially disappointing due to academic pressure. The people are more down-to-earth than I thought they would be. Everyone puts on a show to impress everyone. And on and on and on — stereotyping the freshman was no easy task. Yet some broad degree of accord was struck on one aspect of the settled life. This was the year of the big debut of the coed freshman dorm — Yates and Dupont, the core of freshman housing. five comments like: It ' s so much nicer to really get to know someone doing laun- dry than in a hectic, noisy party where it ' s hard to be yourself, or, I feel like I ' m living with siblings. Yet perhaps be- cause they had known no other dorm life, coed living was really no big deal to freshmen. I came from a family of eight, so coed living all seemed very natural to me. I chose single-sex because I ' m sick of living with men — day in and day out — I have five brothers; I prefer them just at night. I thought if I picked single-sex that I could walk down the hall in a bathrobe and towel on my head, but there are more guys here than in a coed dorm. — J.B., K.S. ■ Yes, Mom, coed living ' s great No, Mom, of course we don ' t let them see us In our bathrobes! were no long single-sex, partly in hopes of offsetting some of the destructive dorm behavior. (Upperclassmen only wished the idea had been instituted a few years earlier.) The arrangement elicited posi- Kathy Wilcox assesses the inventory laid out at the fall SA bookfair Chet Knapp looks on from behind Photo by Bob Scott Heading out to the shopping center, a student waits across from the cafeteria for the arrival of the JBT bus, popularly referred to as the green machine — Photo by Rob Smith 16 Freshnnen — Opening Weeks