27 April, 2006

A senior reminisces about his time at Spring Hill College

Note: This article was originally posted in The SpringHillian, a student-run newspaper at Spring Hill College. It ran in Volume 84 Issue 20.

I hate Spring Hill College.

I hate the pre-club drinking outside my dorm window every Thursday night my sophomore year.

I hate the cafeteria attempt­ing to give me vegetarian options by cooking random vegetables I've never heard of and ruining an otherwise good meal.

I hate the daily smoking out­side the front door of O'Leary that forced my windows closed on even the nicest of days. I hate the constant smell of marijuana in the halls of Murray that made me so sick that I had to hold my breath every time I used the restroom at 2 a.m., and I hate the ignorance of fellow students on matters of very great import.

I hate the petitions where most signers sign just because of the popularity of the guy/girl who is sitting behind the booth. I hate the prejudice that causes 95% of students to continuously avoid me even after four years at this godforsaken college.

I hate the elections of our joke of an SGA, the politics that govern the various groups of friends on campus, and the com­plete inability of what few people I do meet to comprehend (let alone appreciate) basic stances of morality such as pacifism and veganism.

But thankfully, none of that is what I pay my tuition for. I love my classes, especially the philos­ophy department. Dr.s Kobelja, Forstrom, and Morgan have repeatedly made me think about issues I'd never considered before, a feat well worth atten­tion.

Dr. Cyphert is the most pre­cise teacher I've ever seen, and though his classes are tough, once you've finished one of his courses, you realize that you've learned a lot.

Dr. Allin, whom I only had the chance to take a couple of classes with, introduced me to so much, including Stephen Jay Gould, for which I am eternally grateful. My literature classes broadened my horizons on the fiction front, and my history classes did the same for nonfiction. My sole writing class gave me the confidence I desperately needed in my writing skills; my theology classes taught me the lesson that there are a lot of peo­ple who can actually be intelli­gent and have faith in some ran­dom religion at the same time.

But classes are not all that I enjoyed during my stay here.

I love my friends, who all care for me for whom I am. I love the bookstore that constantly gave me a supply of new reading materials at the beginnmg of each semester. I love the new library, whose halls introduced me to so much that I would not have other­wise read.

I love the grass that gave me a place to read, and the old AB computer lab, that allowed me a chance to chat online while look­ing out at the golf course late in the evening.

I love the chapel, where I could wake at three in the morn­ing and play the piano, or just cry in the pews until I fell asleep and was woken early the next morn­ing by the sunlight.

I love Carpe Diem, and the attic above the chapel, and the golf course when the sprinklers are on early in the morning. I love staying overnight in the stu­dent center three years ago in order to sign up for housing, and playing video games on the big screen in the bio building until the cleaning crew came in.

I love Spring Hill College.

—Eric Herboso, '06

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