Time Outside the Box
Do you remember the first time you left home? Overnight, you were without parents telling you what to do. The day I was accepted to college, I dreamt about how wonderful it would be on my own and not have to care for a younger sibling. I’d be free to stay up late and party through the night. As a sheltered child, my parents didn’t want me far from home, so my higher education began at Ursinus College, an Evangelical and Reform-sponsored college 100 miles west of Philadelphia.
The surprise that first week away was to find that instead of freedom, I was trapped on campus with strict oversight rules regulating my whereabouts. Among other things, it was mandatory to attend chapel three days a week, with attendance taken to ensure we were there. The transition from Philadelphia suburbia was difficult for a Jewish eighteen-year-old used to the richness of the city. I loved visiting museums, going to theatrical performances, and attending symphonic and folk events. As a child, I was taken to Saturday morning children’s concerts; as a teen, I graduated to youth concerts and went with my friends to Symphony Hall. I was enrolled in art classes at The Philadelphia Art Museum, where their collection of masterpieces inspired me, and I studied ballet with plans to go professional.
My parents weren’t concerned when I traveled from suburbia to Rittenhouse Square for piano lessons. Though going by bus and subway took an hour, it was considered a safe means of transportation. Philadelphia was my playard, grounding me in American history and providing more freedom than I realized.
Years later, I was asked why I chose to attend a small rural college and if I would do it again. I went to Ursinus because Dad had taken his medical residency nearby. It was known for its strong liberal arts and pre-med programs. I was thrilled to be accepted and couldn’t wait to meet my roommate, a young woman who turned my world upside down. She was an enigma, leading me to question my take on reality. Alice (not her real name) opened my eyes to a slice of society coming from another world. There was one other Jewish woman in my freshman class and both of us were matched with Catholic roommates so we wouldn’t pollute the minds of our evangelical classmates.
Alice roommate lived in a small New Jersey town where she grew up riding horses from an early age. In her teens, she attended demolition derbies , went to wild beach parties, and galloped across the country club’s grounds with friends dressed as Ku Klux Klan members. I was shocked by the cavalier way she described her exploits and disdain for Black Americans. In our dorm, she partied in a friend’s room until the wee hours of the morning, and slept afternoons in ours. I tiptoed around the room during the day, studying with the shade down in the dark .
Undergraduate men were also different than the boys from home. Except for the pre-med students serious about their studies, they were into cars, sex, and physical exploits. Their childhoods didn’t include hours spent in cultural institutions. They liked Elvis, while my friends and I were enthralled with the Beatles and Pete Seeger. Most male undergrads came from families where practical work was valued over academic achievement. During hunting season, male undergrads attended class with hunting licenses pinned to the back of their shirts. They’d head for their rifles and hunting gear, he second the bell rang. I’m not sure where firearms were kept. Hazing rituals at fraternities made my hair stand on end. I still hear the screams of initiates drifting through my open window at night.
Though Ursinus had a stimulating lecture series, few students attended. I sat among the staff with a handful of co-eds, wondering about the curiosity of my fellow students. School dances and movies were well attended.
Freshman women, subject to a hazing ritual supported by the administration, were compelled to wear one yellow and one red sock for our first six week. We slung name placards over our shoulders, like a sandwich sign, and wore freshman beanies wherever we went. As a newby, I memorized the long, fanciful names sophomore leaders took on, and addressed them like royalty whenever they passed. The consequence of forgetting a name was having to sing the school’s anthem before everyone at pep rallies. First-year students met at noon to be tested on our knowledge of the school’s football chants and songs. We were later told that the goal of hazing was to get the freshman class to bond and rise against the sophomores. Our class overwhelmingly failed, and the following year, hazing was abandoned.
I was shy and fearful and didn’t understand all of the rules in the women’s dorm. We had to sign out when we left after seven p.m. and in before ten p.m. weekdays, midnight on weekends. It wasn’t until the last quarter that I broke through my fear of doing something wrong. As a former ballet student, I secured a lead part in a spring homecoming extravaganza. After performing in the stadium before thousands of students, parents, and alums, I was recognized as someone other than a wallflower and suddenly had friends. College became life bearable.
The following year, I transferred to Boston University where I loved walking through the halls without being recognized. I think fondly the the times I spent having lunch with classmates who talked about what they were studying. Boston University is in the heart of a city with over sixty universities and colleges, and I thrived in the intellectual atmosphere. But when I reflect on my days at Ursinus, I realize that learning to enjoy and accept people with different customs and values may have been the more valuable experience. After opening myself to the joys and hardships of fellow students, I saw that every family has some level of dysfunction, but most children figure out ways to survive. My classmates were down to earth, grounded in reality, and as concerned about their future as I was\. In 1958, only 7.7 percent of American women attended college. Today, that number is at 60 percent. Back then, there was a strong emphasis on exiting with a husband.
Leaving home, whether to further education, travel, take a job, or join the military, is life expanding. It takes getting out of your comfort zone to discover who you are and to be able to evaluate your strengths, likes, and dislikes. A willingess to accept some level of risk taking is as import for senior citizens as high school graduates. Humans are continuously evolving creatures that metamorphosis as they go through life’s passages.
Congress would do a better job running the country if legislators opened themselves to the commonalities of the human condition. Unfortunately, too many hide inside boxes and shoot barbs at people they don’t understand or know. Cultures differ as does the food we eat. But as human beings, we all lose baby teeth, learn to control our bladders, and get grey hair as we age. We care about our children and friends and put ourselves out to see they are happy and well-fed. We teach children to ride bikes, catch balls, cook, clean, brush their teeth, enjoy sporting and cultural events, and use computers.
Everyone wants to be free from illness, poverty, road rage, potholes, and crime. We enjoy decorating our homes for the holidays and spending time with friends and family. Focusing on shared interests and traits is the starting place for understanding. I implore politicians to get out of their boxes and embrace humanity instead of trashing those they don’t agree with.
I look forward to your comments on my blog site.
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