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

Page 11 text:

reminiscences ■

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f Ttte Italic ? The request on the part of the Class of ' 52 for reminiscences sur- prised me no little, for I had always supposed that students once out of the clutches of an English composition teacher made certain never again to come within writing distance. But here is pleasant disillusionment. The re- quest is so amiable that I must comply with it. As I look over the names of the seventy-six students who composed Section I and Section 2 of English A I and A2 in the year 1948-49, I find very few faces rising before me in clear individuality. Is Leonard Bergman that slim chap with the heavy red whiskers or that stout young man with the soprano voice? Is Barry Dashowitz that handsome young Hercules with the flat feet or that quiet youngster with the abashed look, appealing silently not to be called on to recite? And so down the list I go, wondering and conjecturing. Still there is personality in the list. Gradually out of the succession of names emerges a composite personality — the College of Pharmacy fresh- man. Except for the returned veteran, he is surprisingly young. He is eager, brash, and metropolitan. He is confident, energetic, and not easily dismayed. He is purposeful, determined, and aggressive. He is articulate, quick to speak, slow to be silent. He is hopeful, committed to a program of preparation, almost dedicated to it. Linguistically he has all the color and all the provinciality of New York City. He is stimulating to his teach- er, but not easily bent. Plasticity is not his chief characteristic. Above all, he is alive. Like any personality, he is in progress of growth. He comes to the first English class subdued, a bit overawed, quizzically curious. For the first two weeks he is conscientious in doing his assignments, eager to learn the marvels of written English, bursting with bright thoughts about the lan- guage, especially the vernacular — really quite a promising student of his native or adopted tongue. But then the fumy vapors of chemistry begin to becloud his head and clog his tongue. He speaks in hoarse whispers, and the sounds he makes take the shape of chemical equations. Twitching movements plague his hands and feet. He traces lines on bits of paper or in the air before him, and the lines form a geometrical design closely resembling the patterns of old-fashioned linoleum. Molecular structure, he mutters in his delirium.