Hendrix College - Troubadour Yearbook (Conway, AR)

Page 10 text:

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Page 9 text:

There were fifteen students at Hendrix, he said. Perhaps. But he didn't realize that we dreaded learning. Our books grew heavy. Our hands got sticky before a quiz. The library was cold at night. We wanted to sleep or eat . . . or talk . . . or think. We cried inside when the old, secure ideas fell . . . especially when no new ones could yet replace the old. The instructor said we were wrong, and we rebelled. He said, Pm not sure, and we knew distrust. But sometimes the process seemed worthwhile. A professor once said, I was a junior in college when I knew that I burned inside to learn. And we com- prehended. A few of us. Sometimes. And then we stayed after the bell to ask questions or we walked to the Union to talk longer. Then truth stared up at us from a black cup of coffee or tapped us lightly on the shoulder as we sat cloistered in the stacks. Then there were not enough magazines in the library. Not enough time to stay in lab. It was in those moments that we decided that we could not live without learning. Then the whole process seemed worthwhile. And then we understood why the teachers still stayed.

Page 11 text:

A low, old stone wall curved around the college. In places it enclosed the campus. Some of us looked at the wall and wondered aloud what was outside. And some of us tried . . . try . . . will try to do something about it. And so outsiders were invited in. They were leaders and they were mod. We desired to be as they were. They inspired us to read magazines and news- papers and to talk about New York and Washington. So from time to time we glimpsed fleeting shadows of the outside. We got new ideas for our big, traditional social events . . . and we had more cookies at our big, traditional teas. We went to ball games and we sponsored a French play. We spent more money on flowers and decorations. And they were prettier. Once in a while we got a creative flash for a new party, usually a few people came. But mainly, we talked about going to the University for the ballgame. We knew the University was outside the wall. And once in a while we got excited. Usually, it was individually. Over a date or movie. Collectively, we were placid. Groups still sat in Steve's Union to drink cokes and play cards. And sit. Professors still had Sunday evening dinners for their advisees. Couples still walked in piles of autumn leaves. But mainly, there was still time. And the wall.