First-Year Tears and Tension

Blocking! The word reverberates around tables in grand new Annenberg Hall. Faces fall. Confusion erupts. Muttering begins. "I don't want to talk about it!" "Let's not even get into it!" "Please...." This is not a happy topic, to say the least.

The first-year class every year is politely asked by the administration to make a list of 16 friends by the beginning of March. With these 16 people we will be sent out of our comfortable shelter in the Yard and into the world of upper-class houses. Of course, this is a problem every year. Wise seniors nod and respond, "Oh, the night before the blocking forms were due...well...it was quite a mess." However, something new arises for the class of '99, for whom the transitions seem to be particularly endless. Once we choose our 16, nine-, two-person group--whatever we can agree upon--we have no guarantee that we will be anywhere near any of our other groups of friends. We are being sent off to break down the stereotypes, to change the character of the houses as just a miserable little blocking group of first-years. This is called randomization.

Let us first focus on the question of blocking. For the last month, bickering has been the priority. Classes have fallen behind in importance to this all-consuming issue. Friendships gain a new dimension of tension. People studiously avoid the topic that carries weight for the next three years of our lives. Tears flow freely. Friendships seem to go up in flames. The little white lies my mother swore by backfire dramatically. Being blunt is the only option; then havoc breaks loose. We have been reduced to eighth grad--people stop talking to each other, talk behind each other's backs, scheming busily.

Each group is a conglomeration of random people, reduced to baggage. Often, people sigh and say, "Well, I'd love to have John but you know he has Matt as baggage and maybe that means Ben and if Ben is attached to Liz. . .we just can't have that." Voices rise, "Jenny said she'll go wherever Dan goes and she brings Sarah and if we have Dan then we have to deal with Sarah." AHHHHH!!!! This class of the best and brightest disintegrate into little clusters where miscommunication and hostile feelings are the only assumptions that can safely been made about anything. Why do we have to do this? What happens at all those other schools?

Blocking is simple for those who are only friends with others in their little clique and never venture into different worlds except for the occasional acquaintance in section or drunken bonding at a party. Living with those 10 friends is natural. However, for those who have friends from disparate groups (friends who don't necessarily like each other), blocking is a word that makes stomachs clench. For those who have taken advantage of Harvard's bringing together a diverse group of interesting people and have made friends from may places and with many interests who may not get along with each other, blocking ranks up there with that college application stuff in terms of pleasure.

Perhaps these are common problems at all schools. However, at other schools people go off campus. They rent houses with friends. They find buildings where they can all live near each other or else they separate. Options are plentiful. The process seems more relaxed somehow. The act of writing names on a piece of paper, of everyone deciding at a set time, seems to create additional tension.

But how many schools feel that they must send a letter to the parents of first-years saying blocking group negotiations "can strain the interpersonal skills of the most sophisticated undergraduate"? It shouldn't even be necessary to take such a measure. The letter continues to say that this decision is expected to be "even more consuming than...the choice of Concentration." Sophomore year sounds fun.

What can be done? If we could specify the Quad or the river houses, perhaps we wouldn't feel quite so much hanging on our decisions. Maybe enough people would choose the Quad, assuming it would be less in demand, so that several blocking groups would be together. Perhaps enough people don't really mind "being Quadded." Some might want to live in a beautiful, slightly-removed community.

What else could be done? Yale assigns first-years a house affiliation as soon as they enter the college. Students live with the same people for four years. Harvard could designate Wigglesworth, for example, as the Dunster affiliate. Then students are resigned to their lot earl on. No, resigned isn't the right word. Many students are happy in the Yard, pleased with their dorms and roommates. For those who aren't, perhaps roommates can be shuffled around or there could be a transfer process.

Whatever the answer may be, randomization is not the correct one. At best, the class of '99 infiltrates the houses, and by the time we graduate each house will be "remarkably diverse." At worst, it is a tremendous disaster, and the administration reverts to the previous policy, leaving our class stranded with its muddled and miserable blocking groups.