Profile

An assignment for a class. I had to sit in one place for five hours and write a physical description, then a profile of the location.

       I walked half a mile in the sleet and snow to get here. All so I could learn. Personally, I’d call that dedication—others would say it’s no big deal. I didn’t choose learning to be my job, it just so happens to be socially acceptable and necessary for a promising future. Three out of five of my classes take place in IRC—I spend a lot of time there.

       When class gets out, this place is a highway at rush hour. Students ranging from eighteen to middle aged walk with sullen looks plastered on their faces. Maybe they’re thinking about the dirty walls and cold showers, maybe just the homework they have to do. Ten minutes to each hour could be related to an excited atom. All the electrons (angry people) and protons (happy people) bounce off each other creating quite the stir. John runs into Jane and apologizes while Jane II talks on the phone in her outside voice to John II. Then everything stops. It’s on the hour and everyone’s in learning mode—you can feel it in the air. Tension builds and is finally released once fifty minutes pass. IRC sure does get a lot of action, it fits right in on a college campus.

       During the lull there isn’t much to do but look around. IRC is a large one level brick building with eight lecture halls and a relatively dinky computer lab. The areas range from intimate classroom size to grand university lecture halls. I sat myself in front of IRC 3 on a maroon chair. The chair has a low wooden back, most likely oak, with arms to match. A pattern presents itself upon every inch—beige and darker beige squares intermingle with the prominent maroon ones. By no means does this chair meet the standards of an ordinarily visually appealing piece of furniture—it does, however, supply comfort to the same effect a broken-in relic of family history would. To my left a row of chairs, identical to the previously described one, aligns the wall. Some are green instead of maroon, both hideous choices in color palette.

       An electric blue recycle bin waits patiently to be used at my right. The college doesn’t take part in eco-friendly activities such as recycling, a contradiction to having the eyesore present in the first place. A generic recycle symbol printed on the side clarifies the difference between the neighboring garbage can and its partner in crime. The bag, obviously too big for the container, drapes over the side of the can covering half the symbol.

       A bulletin board resides on the opposite wall. Separated into eight equal parts, religious groups fight for equal representation. A few general interest clubs managed to make their way into the picture as well. In the upper left-hand corner sits a vast display of pictures placed in a symmetrical pattern. They are of students who participate in Voices of Serenity, a Christian organization. Next to that display Hillel, the Jewish group, fights for attention. The Star of David combined with other papers with font too small to read from far away has caught my attention. Their slogan reads: “We promote Jewish heritage and observe Jewish traditions”. The History Club resides next to Hillel. Pictures, officer titles, and meeting dates take up this square. The last board on the top row advertises The Wire. This board, like the others, contains pictures and words describing what the group is like—a biased view no doubt. The bottom row represents The Newman Club (Christianity yet again), Center for Social Responsibility and Community, Campus Ambassadors Christian Fellowship and a random smattering of opportunities to become ATMs, VIPS and the like. I would say the Christians won this vulgar crusade with the three to one ratio. Each display has countless pictures and blurbs describing the groups, not to mention a day-glow background.

       The white walls are much more multi-colored than that. Black, brown and undeterminable colors scuffed along the bottom add to the obvious college environment. The same people must clean the floors—they share the same color palette. It could possibly be the interior decorator, or lack there of. Skylights illuminate the hallway with the help of only nine fluorescent bulbs. Natural light was a good choice on whoever designed the building; it must cut down on electricity bills. Us damn college kids have no respect for the amount of money it costs to heat, light up and keep a college running—but then you have to think about the tuition we pay. Maybe someone should wash the walls with the amount of money being saved. The ambiance is topped off with windows at either end of the hallway taking the place of walls. This allows even more natural light to illuminate the building. Cheapskates. I appreciate the natural light more than anyone could ever know, I guess I’m just bitter about the cold shower I had this morning. That’s another thing to add on the list of things to buy with extra electricity money: a hot water heater sufficient enough so I can wash the conditioner out of my hair and still have time to shave my legs with no goose bumps.

       Forty-seven minutes have passed and this place is going to blow. Although I sit outside the classrooms, I can imagine the students kicking, rearing and biting at the bit. They want to go but are forced to stay because some round plastic clock that says there are three minutes left of torture. Another minute has passed and now I can hear their unsettled desires. Desks are folded down, jackets are put on and books are thrown into backpacks. There is one more minute left and I thought the tension was unbearable before. Boom. The doors fly open and there is no hope for control now. Students come from all directions with the goal of getting out of this hellhole in mind. Dread is apparent, and I’m feeling it as well. The time has come to experience this sequence first hand and I’m prepared with a sullen look that would challenge even the most bitter of students. I still have three more years to perfect the scowl.