The Young and the FRECless

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Frosh week is over, the first week is gone, and so the engineering froshlings have taken flight away from the nurturing wings of their dear FREC’s into a world of triple integration and fornication (gosh forbid these happen simultaneously). Despite all the FREC’s careful guidance, the inevitable traumas of first week cannot be avoided. Over the days I’ve heard a great many tales of these traumatic situations and feelings and have summarized them now into, “The 3 Inevitable First Week Traumas of an Engineering Frosh Volume 1”
Trauma 1: The holy f*** this isn’t my lecture.
Are you in the wrong lecture hall? The wrong building? Why am I sitting in on a lesson about pottery from the Mesopotamia era? All these things flash through you mind moments before the surge of 404class-not-found, shit shit shit. Now it up to you to figure it out, come on there, you know the campus, where are you supposed to be? Chernoff , good you’re half way there now comes the hard part, time to calculate the optimum time to leave with the least amount of heart crushing f*** my life awkwardness (which incidentally only you feel as no one around you gives a crap…they’re too focus of the pottery so calm down). You run the formula…
Holy F*** this isn’t my class(t)=  

 

Where k = the number of other Eng frosh to make this mistake aka just you sonny, just you= 1
Answer: t=0 get up, take the leap, push through the fear, get to your lecture at Chernoff, go frosh go!
You stand up, fear gripping you and begin to squirm down the aisle….wtf did you sit dead centre, rookie mistake, rookie mistake. You walk out of that class and looking back it’s apparently that none of those ArtSci give a shit, you made it, trauma 1 survived. Now get your ass to class. 
Trauma 2: Leonard, Why the F*** Why?
Although this is not purely Eng related, this is a situation that many a frosh have walked right into. You got an 8:30 Tuesday don’t you!? Well good thing you got up early its only 8:00 at the moment and happily you skip your way down to Lenny for breakfast. Ah ah ah, but there’s the catch. Awww the little froshie doesn’t get it yet, give it a second. You trot up to the entrance and in you go, only to find the entrances to the caf barred like the gates of Mordor. Nooooooo. You go up and push on the door, a futile attempt, a last struggling hope, no chance, you shall not pass, one does not simply walk into Leonard. Do you know what you are? You probably expect some sort of rude name or witty Lord of the Rings themed remark, but no. …all you are is a hungry, silly frosh. Off to your 8:30 with you.
Trauma 3: Why the F*** are there two Chernoffs?
You read your schedule this morning, you memorized those classes you’re ready to go up until the moment you walk up to the Chernoffs. Hall or Aud , Hall or Aud, damn those Chernoffs and their generous donations! Two immensely huge groups of fellow froshlings are filing into both of these buildings but which one are you? You should just ask someone walking into the Aud, “Hey, what section are you?” “3” Oh, oh you’re not in 3 you’re section, cool you must be Chernoff Hall! UNLESS…. It’s a super section? Of the many enigmas and Da Vinci codes to have been cracked over the past millennia, none have come close to comparing with the sorcery used to define sections super section etc.  You have to take a well calculated risk. The Aud has one room, you’ll know if you have it right. You walk in sit down, the symphony of pit flu coughing fills the air as the prof begins to speak. Shit you had this lecture earlier today….high risk, high reward did not pay off. Refer to trauma 1.
And off fly the froshlings into the mystery and wonders of University life. Away into the beautiful chaos of unsuppressed hormones, unaddressed homework, and traumatic awkward situations.
 

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