“Compaq Presario … yup … 1275 … Celeron processor ? C-E-L-E-R-O-N. Yes, they still make those.” The hip technology that once made us the bees knees on campus now dates us as the older generation of students. Once beautiful computer desktops now look gray and boxy next to the smart-looking flat screen thingamajigs that the new students have purchased. What was once a flashy indicator of our youth is now a blaring indicator of our outdatedness. Seniors: We are the old and overlooked now that the young and energetic have come to replace and outpace us. Georgetown’s campus needs to show more respect for its elders?seniors are citizens of this university too, and we will no longer stand to feel unwanted and out of place in the rolling green pastures of Georgetown. Let’s join together as a community to replace the Darwinian principle of survival of the youngest with the tried and true principle of seniority?a principle that rewards age before beauty.
Seniority is an interesting and under-appreciated idea: Reward the oldest in your company or organization with the perks and benefits that the young sprightly little whippersnappers cannot yet appreciate. It is a simple equation that is a pretty tried and true way of distributing the goodies?you add up the number of years a person has been in X Company and then divide accordingly, starting at the top and working your way down the line. If there are some scraps left at the end, you can toss them to the newbies, but seniority guarantees that those of us who have been here from the beginning aren’t tossed to the wayside when some fiery young scamp comes waltzing in from some fancy school with a lot of fancy talk. It seems to me that on the Georgetown campus, seniority is being replaced by some crazy post-modern philosophy where you reward the early bird who gets up early to catch the worm instead of the old, wise and experienced bird who is busy resting from its long night’s work. When the old bird finally wakes up, all the worms are gone and he is stuck living in an LXR dorm room on the ground floor with a wall adjoining the dorm’s trash receptacle and one, small barred window from which to poke his old bird beak.
I am that bird. Even though I have been here for four years, going to classes every day and turning in quality assignments on time that have been neatly typed and proofread, I now find myself using a dog-tag style key to enter a communal bathroom where I then have to stand in line to urinate or cleanse myself in a bleak shower stall. Meanwhile, not even a stone’s throw from my barred windows, there are young first years urinating in their private Village C bathroom palaces and swarthy sophomores prancing around their spacious Village B luxury suites. As I gaze out of the small, glass-paneled hole they have cut into my shoebox, I cannot even make eye contact with these newer versions of myself. Instead, with a window that is eye level with the sidewalk, I can only catch fleeting glimpses of the new-school-shoe-clad feet of these lively academics who are whizzing around Georgetown like they own the place. I once had the energy for such tomfoolery, but Georgetown is a demanding institution and I am battle-weary from complying with the stringent requirements and multitasking. Do this, do that, sign this, declare that, pay this, move that. Georgetown sucks the life out of its students, and then doesn’t even take care of us in our old age. It may be easy to overlook seniors, but the fact of the matter is that we still have a voice in this great university and we intend to exercise our rights and demand reform, better protection and security. We may no longer be young and sprightly, but respect for your elders is a motto that never goes out of style.
Do you ever feel like your first year is wasted on the first years? The reckless years of our late teens may seem like decades ago, but we old folks were once just like the innocent young rascals that now fill this great campus of ours with a nostalgic hint of youthful abandon. All too quickly Georgetown is tossing a diploma in your back pocket as it chases you out the front gates into a world of color-coded dangers and uncertainties. It may seem like a long time ago, but we seniors were also once a bubbly bunch of ‘ole scamps who wandered the cobbled streets of The Town looking for a cup of acceptance. As we sit on the high barstools of The Tombs, it may seem to some that we “wouldn’t understand,” but we were young once too, you know. Although eager new students, brimming with hope and potential, are needed in order to keep this great school on the track of excellence it has coasted on for so many years, we must be careful to ensure that seniors are never overlooked or neglected. Rather than carelessly force the older and wiser off campus into the entrails of the community, this administration should find ways to honor the elders in this campus community by guaranteeing top notch accommodations for all of its flock, not just the chirpy birds who are “diligent” and “responsible” and are able to secure housing “on time.” The first step in this process is to move me into a townhouse. This symbolic gesture will be a source of great solace to all seniors who feel slighted as they make the slow, mournful march across the Key Bridge every morning or the walk of shame back to their eight-person house on Z Street every evening. Just one house for me, please. I would be so very grateful. Please. Pretty please.
Helen O’Reilly is a senior in the School of Foreign Service. She thinks nobody should ever have to wear shoes in the shower.
