Ripon College - Crimson Yearbook (Ripon, WI)

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Walk-Around O Central is harrassed. Dulfie is calling Harwood. Parkhurst is asking lor Merriman. West wants Lyle and Bartlett—all at once. “The line is busy. try again, operator, that line is bound to be free soon. At last! two houses are connected—then two more. The question is always the same. How many of our Frosh can you get dates for? We have six free upperclassmen who will take care of yours. A mad shuffle is under way. House presidents are assuming the Hrst of their social duties. One hundred and ten freshmen—one hundred and ten dates to be made! If a freshman ever feels lonely these fi.rst days, now it is at a minimum. This is his day in a way. for all this effort is in his behalf. He is about to be mixed (much like an egg in a scramble sometimes) into life at Hipon. It is September 24. This evening each fresh she and he finds himself engaged for the even- ing with an upperclassmen. At 8:15 they walk or ride to the gym. Inside the music of the first college party of the year is playing. Entering, the Frosh sees a long faculty line waiting to greet him. There is Prexy and Mrs. Evans first. The upper- classman presents the new stu- dent to each in turn, and so on down the line. Now into the dance! This is the ice-breaker, the mixer—the freshman walk-around. —19—

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Registration O For three months the campus has slept in the blazing summer heat. Quietly she has stood these weeks, watching, waiting. Then almost imperceptibly the sun drops its temperature, and a subtle warmth creeps into the air. The campus begins to take on life. A light shines through the dusk from a win- dow in Smith. Another bursts into being over at Bartlett! A hearty “helloooo' sounds through the twilight. Here and there new sounds . . . . noises and lights take shape as the campus stirs itself. In a few brief hours, this silent sleeping thing awakens from deep slumber, and begins to itch with new life. Hi, Jim! Glad to see you again. Tom! Oh. Mary. Kate is back. Another year has begun. What are you taking? Decided on your major yet? ’ ... all through that first glorious night questions are asked, confidences exchanged, the happy summer relived. The senior basks in his pipe smoke. The Frosh sits in the corner by the radio trying to act like a man—trying to down the first horrible pangs of homesickness. The next day is September 21st. The scene shifts to Lane library. Stu dents are seen hurrying through the door, and inside. Along the tables ready to give their friendly advice (and perhaps still thinking of their summer) sit the members of the faculty. It is registration day! o —is—

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Frosh Party ✓o Having met all of the faculty and most of the student body, the freshman is more at ease. He has found himself in the Ripon family and will be at home for the next four years. But wait! All these introductions have been formal. Another change must be made. Those dignified nods and reserved smiles of recognition must become familiar, “more easy.” So the freshman men arc called into meeting by the mighty sophomores. Several of the most likely, wearing new green caps with the numerals “40 on them, are singled out. One is given a sack of Pillsbury's Best, another a pail, the others commanding looking green broadsides. The paste is mixed and the parade begins. First to Bartlett where one Frosh with sleeves rolled pastes the Frosh rules of conduct (or so the sophomores think) on the side- walk for everyone to see. In exchange a Bartlett freshman girl sings a song which is lost in the good humor with which it is welcomed. A few of the freshman men have disappeared. On to Harwood, to Lyle, then to Parkhurst. The routine is varied; the bills go on trees, and posts. The girls recite, and listen to mock proposals. All the while the juniors stand to one side and offer instructions to the master- ful and heedless sophomores. The seniors also watch—smiling, remembering. A few more of the freshmen have faded away into the night. The bills are almost gone, the freshmen tired, the sophomors satisfied. No need now for reserve—all barriers are down. —20—