Columbia University College of Pharmacy - Apothekan Yearbook (New York, NY)

Page 27 text:

September 12, 1942. June 21, 1945. Dear Posterity: Our first plunge into the pool of deeper education was an almost disappointing one. Contrary to our expectations of experiencing a sweat bath, we found that the first year in tuition proved that our intuition was fallible. College more closely resembled a milk bath. Math analysis was a subject moat of us found simple, even though there were functions other than trigonometric to think of. The value of pi was its effect on salivation, and the priceless ingredient of every product was the integration of the student. The world we existed in was bounded oy two cubes, both of which showed from one to six dots on each face. Dr. Fialkow, who struggled in teaching us the differentiation be- tween a three-letter -word -for -a -donkey and an elbow, was just about the nicest instructor we bad (possibly because we were all bigger than he). Mr. Harlan, who aided and abetted us in homicidal dealings with George VI s English, decided that a vacation ae necessary after he had trained us in our bout with rhetoric, and enlisted in the Navy. »e hope that the passage of time will lessen the clarity of his horrible memory of us and that after the war be will resume his teaching post. The ever abunaant, though subtle, wit which Mr. Harlan displaced transformed the otherwise dull s-bject of grammar into a pleasant one. Those who grasp- ed the subtleties and variegated allusions transmitted with a northern- ised southern accent, were thus compensated for their pains in rustling through the ripe leaves of Emery and filling in the work sheets of Kies et al. ( ' a often wondered what Al ' s last name was?). Contemporary Civilisation, which was definitely not contemporary and often Beemed contemptuous, officially took us away from our beloved campus, the ping-pong table, for four full, bard hours a week, and was tne class which first introduced us to the diversified pleasantries af- forded oy cutting. Sir. Lutnin ( nor a Ph. D.), a handsome oachelor full of pinkiBh health, and perpetually arrayed ij natty tweeds, to. , us in- to the Catacombs of Home and helped us dig under cover of the Dark Ages until we reached the light and air of the Twentieth Century. Of course, there were some we ry souls wbo somehow slumbered sonorously througnout the fifth repetition of all the erroneoua theories behind the system of Mercantilism. Often tne tides of educntxon threatened to engulf us, but those, who seemed to be in desperate need ere thrown Life Savers. The ceiling of the room muBt have been peeling paper, for almost constantly wads of paper fluttered down upon our beads. This is the only explana- tion which is plausible, for no one could believe teat a fellow-student might have been the causative agent. However, the occasional twang of a rubber band has continued to be unexplicable. Our first year of General Introductory Pharmacy was coached by Horace G. Carter, assisted by Professor Amsterdam. Professor Carter v s