Just the first of many times these prospective students question why they didn't apply to some second-rate school in the Sunshine State.
Photo: Abby Dennis
Today marks the end of Wildcat Days—the end of all those bright-eyed, virginal little prospie monsters being shepherded around campus; the end of their swinging purple name tag lanyards and sumptuous boxed lunches in Norris; the end of innocence. In reality, you’re probably envious of their unabashed enthusiasm, but we’ve put together several eye-witness stories of clueless prospie behavior to indulge your inner cynic, after the jump.
In a Sexuality and Society class, the professor is talking about a tribe in Papua New Guinea where boys receive masculinity by giving oral sex and swallowing semen—and it’s accompanied by video evidence. Four groups of prospies and moms are sitting in the front row. They feel awkward and get up and leave.
A prospie (and mother) scream when they run across a dead, decomposing squirrel laying on a sidewalk outside one of the dorms. Crows have already picked out the squirrel’s eyes. Yes, people. Evanston is not Chicago. It’s a wilderness out here.
As students shuffle in to a 10 a.m. lecture still slit-eyed with sleep, one doe-eyed, chipper kid sticks out. He’s chatting up the professor, who looks baffled, before class. “Hi, professor, I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m a prospective student, and I’ll be sitting in on your class today,” he says brightly as he shakes the professor’s hand. This is a 160-person lecture. Although said professor probably has a deriding nickname for the annoying kid who sits in the front row, he doesn’t know anyone’s name. Still, the kid doesn’t understand why the professor doesn’t immediately engage him in a discussion about discourse in post-modern American lit and invite him for coffee at Norbucks.
In a 17-student Performance and Analysis of Literature class, a prospective student arrives at 12 p.m. Little does she know, class does not begin until 12:30pm. Upon the arrival of the first students, the girl introduces herself, although she makes little attempt at further conversation. In walks the instructor. When said prospie doesn’t introducer herself, an awkward conversation ensues, during which professor tells prospie she isn’t welcome, while prospie argues that this class was on the “sheet of classes to visit.” In the end, she stays, texting through several poetry performances.
It’s the fourth week of class and a philosophy professor wants to show
how impressive he is by proving he knows each student’s name (a pretty
large feat for a 70 person or so lecture). The professor does quite
well remembering each person’s name until he reaches an unfamiliar
face.
Professor: Can you remind me of your name?
Prospie: My name is Joe and I am a prospie. I just came to see all
the GREAT philosophers Northwestern is raising up.
Professor: Wait, so you’ve already been admitted right?
Prospie: Yes I have!
Professor: Okay, so you can tone it down a bit.
