Freshmen, so eager to wear their new Amherst identity and so afraid of not being able to access their fresh digs, slip their lanyards over their heads nearly immediately after they receive it on Move-In day and carry it proudly on their chests, like a dog tag. Of course, some of the more image-conscious (coughobnoxiouscough) newbies swing their keys and ID card to their backs as though it made them look less wet behind the ears. But guess what guys — it just makes it worse!
These freshmen will quickly learn that the lanyard is nothing more than a modern-day equivalent of the freshmen beanies of yore (although if you are a freshman, you probably don’t even know what that is) — a method of identifying first-year boys to ensure they were properly condescended to and punished many moons ago.
Wearing the lanyard indicates a lack of awareness of how dorky you look wearing it. It is the height of sartorial faux pas on the campus and no upperclassmen should ever be caught wearing it. Being mistaken for a so-fresh-faced-you-just-want-to-slap-the-virgin-out-of-them freshman is and should be the ultimate fear of every student at the College. And God forbid upperclassmen should be gauche enough to don theirs (if it hasn’t broken by that point) during Orientation — the absolute worst week of the year to be mistaken for (and thus targeted as) a neophyte!
First-years, please don’t be offended by my remarks. You’ve already probably had a rough week being last-minute mollycoddled by Mommy and Daddy, sneered at for mispronouncing building names, and hounded with a “GTFO, freshie!” for just asking a simple question on the Amherst Confessional and the Daily Jolt. The ogling and pointing by upperclassmen doesn’t really help either. But you have to understand where we’re coming from: a place of envy.
Amherst kisses freshman ass. Sorry to be so blunt, but it’s true. The College loves freshman just about as much as it loves alumni money. You’re the brightest, freshest blood in a place swarming with cynical and constipated geezers otherwise known as the classes of 2011, 2010 and 2009. Katie Fretwell will wax rhapsodic about how you, the Class of [Insert Year Here], is the “the best, most accomplished, most diverse” class the College has ever seen. Well, gee thanks, Katie, that sure makes the previous class feel just great.
The College works its tusch off to make sure you guys feel welcome, makes sure you all know you’re not just wanted but really needed to invigorate the community (and not just be the packing peanuts at parties.) But once you hit sophomore year, you’re yesterday’s news, jaded and wrung-out, no better than last night’s whore. The newer, younger model has usurped you. You can’t really blame our childish jealousy.
Still, there’s more to our disdain than that — it’s also our knowing what it’s like to be you, desperate to prove yourself and unsure of your niche in a place like Amherst. We make fun of you because we’re cringing at our own memories of being clueless and overly impressed with the College. Freshmen tend to overindulge their academic curiosity, their eyes wider than their stomachs, so to speak. It’s easy to be overwhelmed by all that the school has to offer and they often make the mistake of feeling the need to plan every twist, turn, and short-cut of their next four years to make sure they don’t miss a thing. Silly rabbits, tricks are for kids! Luckily, by the time your finished with your first year, exhausted by lessons learned the hard way, you realize what an embarrassing ass you made out of yourself prefrosh weekend by trying to affirm to your host that you really do belong at Amherst and that you’re FOCUSED and SURE OF WHERE YOU’RE GOING in your college career. We can’t help but relate and it sickens us to think we were that goofy.
Wearing the lanyard symbolizes all that is embarrassing about being a freshman — the I-didn’t-know-any-better-ness of it all. I won’t go as far as to say that the lanyard represents your fears and insecurities of starting college (I’m not that cheesy), but it definitely signifies that, despite the fact that you’re an Amherst kid (and, boy, they never let you forget it here), you’ve still got plenty to learn.
Don’t fret. We really don’t hate you. We’re just your annoying older siblings letting you have it because Mommy and Daddy are spoiling you right now. But you will learn. Sometime in the near future, the power of the phrase “Class of 2012” will be nothing but dust in the wind, my friends. You, too, will feel the burn of being replaced. You, too, will scoff at the humiliating ID photos in the Class of 2013 “Who’s Who” booklet. You, too, will mock their self-important Facebook profiles, whisper “wook at da widdle fweshman!” to you friends when a wallflower in a lanyard passes, and roll your eyes when a herd of trying-way-too-hard youngsters stampede into a party, expecting a blow-out straight out of a late-’90s teen comedy. But right now you’ve just got to live and learn. And the first thing you can do is take off that damn lanyard!