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In This Issue

• Tom's Restaraunt
• Morningside Heights: Like NYC, But Not
• Letters to the Feditor
• Fed Guide to Internships
• CUicide and You
• Advisors? Who Needs 'Em?
• Housing and Dining Fun Quiz
• Attack of the Killer Barnard Blowjob
• Adventures in the John Jay Elevator
• If You Don't Smoke, We Won't Think You're Cool
• LERNER DELENDA EST
• Piss Off/On Your Roommate
• Fun With Fu!
• Guide to Your Columbia Nervous Breakdown
• THEY WATCH
• Comic - Stickman Theatre's Political Explosion

Ethan Heitner

Hey, freshpersons, how are you liking college so far? You think you've gotten a pretty good feel for it now that you've spent the last several days being oriented? It's pretty sweet, huh? There's all this partying, awesome free food and free concerts, and exciting excursions to the West End, and you're registered for some awesome classes. What? You forgot about the classes? Well, you're gonna have to register for classes before the end of this week. It's okay. Just take a look at that book with all the classes in it. Oh wait, Columbia only had like 10 of those books made up again. Oops. There are way more students than that. Well, just go on the website then to look at the directory of classes. There are about 1,000 classes listed. Just browse around and pick like three of them--the three classes that are perfect for you.

So maybe you're feeling a little bit confused. Someone has apparently already registered you for two classes, even though you don't have any interest in "university writing," but what about the rest of the schedule? You have no idea what you're majoring in, and frankly, you don't know physics from physical education. Maybe there's an advisor you can talk to or something?

Why yes, in fact, there is. Things have changed since my day. When I was a freshwoman we had to walk five miles bare-foot in the snow, uphill both ways, just to find the person who could tell us that we didn't get an advisor. Yes sir, they didn't coddle us three years ago with any of this namby-pamby "first year dean" stuff. I guess the string of schedule-anxiety related suicides started to get to them, though, so that today you have, at your service, your very own personal dean.

If you haven't received it yet, you should be getting an e-mail from your class dean shortly. Don't delete it. It's not quite spam. It will probably read something like this: "Hey Guys, I'm your official class dean, not like dean of the college, but like dean of advising. Man, I am so wasted. You should come hang out sometime so we can be buddies and talk about classes or whatever. LOL. See you!"

As it turns out, your dean is not actually your personal dean. There are about 10 people working in the in the First Year Sophomore Academic Advising Center and about 2,000 fresh and sophpeople. Go ahead and drop by during the walk-in hours. If it's registration time, or any other time when you'd actually need to talk to an advisor, there will be a lot of people waiting. The receptionist will advise you to make an appointment. "I thought these were the walk-in hours," you'll protest, only to be answered with a look that says, "Honey, you're not in Kansas anymore."

If you do finally meet with your dean, the meeting will probably go something like this:

"Hey, ah, Raoul (or something else that's not your name or doesn't necessarily correspond to your gender), how's it going?"

"Okay."

"Great, so what can I do for you?" He loads up Minesweeper on his computer and starts clicking.

"Um, well, I'm trying to decide what classes to take."

"Oh, that's great." Click, click. "So what are you taking?"

"Well, I don't know."

"Oh, dammit," your dean will say, as he hits a mine. "Sorry. Um, are you taking any core classes?" He finally looks up to realize he has incorrectly guessed your sex.

"Yes."

"That's great! Which ones?"

"Lit Hum."

"Great, you're right on track."

"Actually, I was wondering about this one course, if it fulfills the major cultures requirement."

"I don't know about individual courses. Check the list online."

"Oh. Also, do you think I should be taking classes for my major yet?"

"I don't know about majors. You're taking Lit Hum. You're in great shape."

"But I have to."

"You're doing the right thing. So you having fun? Did you go to that night club or whatever?"

"Yeah."

"Great. Great job. Well, thanks for stopping by, uh, Sally? Don't be a stranger."

Well, at least when you declare your major you'll get a professor advisor who you can have a great meaningful relationship with, like in that movie, Good Will Hunting, or that other movie, Good Will Hunting, but with a Black Guy.

Well, that all depends. You weren't thinking about majoring in something popular, were you? Look, if you want good advising, why don't you major in something like ancient studies, which requires you to take thirty-six courses and learn a dead language. You'll have plenty of attention from the professors because there will only be one other person taking the major! No? You were thinking more along the lines of something in your own language, like English, for example. Sure, that's a popular major. Of course, that also means that there are about 200 English majors to the one advisor. Yep, you can imagine the meeting with him will go a lot like the meeting with your class dean, except instead of playing Minesweeper he'll be reading a copy of Ulysses under his desk. Wanna try again?  How about history? You liked history in high school. Hey, six advisors, score! But you still don't get one of your own, and they still won't learn your name. Keep trying?