Martin traces his own distrust for an adviser with too much advice to the growth of guidance counseling in secondary schools. "There is no reason that an 18-year old should not be able to make his own decisions, but his secondary school background may have had such a vast counseling machinery for easing his way that he has failed to assume his proper responsibilities." Because Martin feels that the contrived intimacy of the guidance counselor is largely an illusion, he feels the advising system, at least in theory, should be kept to the primary, limited purpose of helping the student through the confusion and complications of the Harvard machinery. "Last year," he notes, "an advisee asked me three times whether I thought he should go to Florida for spring vacation. This is precisely the kind of question an adviser should not attempt to answer."

As another adviser, Harlan P. Hanson '46, Director of Advanced Standing, would probably answer more questions, especially non-academic ones, than Martin. Hanson does admit that each student will require something different from his adviser, and that sometimes, it is wiser just to leave advisees to themselves. As one of his former students told him: "You're one of the best advisers I could have had--you left me alone."

In other cases, however, Hanson feels the adviser should seek out students, especially those whose experiences with guidance counselors at secondary school may keep them away. It would not be unusual for Hanson to take an advisee to see the sights of Boston, to tell him where to get his laundry done, or to suggest that he buy a new pair of trousers--if necessary.

'Get Him Lubricated'

Sometimes, Hanson tries to correct certain myths--such as when he shows his advisees that they "don't have to study 60 hours a week to stay in this place." He says, "If I find a freshman who is studying too hard, I take him out and get him so lubricated that he will have to go home to bed. It doesn't work just to tell him he is working too hard; you have to show him that a responsible member of the faculty will actually keep him from studying for a while."

Hanson's view of his role may be somewhat broader than Martin's, but both are considerably above the mere study-card level. They are both easily available to students; both know the University well enough to guide a troubled advisee to the proper person or department; and both are wary of definite formulations of what an adviser should do or be.

Both Martin and Hanson, however, like 84 other advisers, do not live in the Yard. They may see their advisees in their offices or in the Union, but they have little acquaintance with the freshman after 5 p.m.

One of the most significant developments in the advising system has been the installation of 20 proctor, advisers, who live in the Yard and who advise about 20 students each. There had been some proctors who were also advisers ever since the freshmen moved into the Yard, but F. Skiddy von Stade '38, dean of freshmen since 1953, raised the number to 20 last year in an experiment that seems to have worked extremely well.

The resident advisers, who have most of their 400 advisees either in their own entry-way or at least in the same building, have a unique chance to develop the informal relationships that neither Martin nor Hanson can easily achieve. The topics that come up in easy dormitory relations--where to buy an overcoat, how to select courses, where to entertain a date, how to solve academic difficulties or how to find a purpose in a college education--can run the gamut, depending entirely on which way the student steers the course. And, as one adviser said, "I've never given any so-called advice during office hours."

Not Meant to Probe

While proctor-advisers are not necessarily Harvard graduates, they are carefully selected for their friendliness and interest in freshmen: last year, 110 applied for 20 jobs. Also, as graduate students, they are close to the age of the freshmen, and as one of them, "There is no real trouble in making friends within two or three weeks with almost every one of my advisees. Most of them live either down the hall or up the stairs." The closeness, however, does not lead the adviser to oversee the student's affairs. As von Stade explains: "If there is trouble, we expect the advisers to let us know, but if there isn't we expect him not to probe!"

These three types of advisers--the resident proctor who has a chance to know his advisees well, the non-resident adviser who nevertheless tries to be something more than a mere giver of directions, and the non-resident who may become a good friend of his advisee but who sees his main job as cutting through Harvard red tape--cannot be arbitrarily separated. At any one time or with any one student, any of these advisers may cross over into the other's territory with no thought at all about a theory of advising. An advising system as amorphous as this is bound to have some weak links in the chain of command. Although the advisers are given detailed information about course requirements of various misunderstand regulations or who are simply uninterested. Although the advisers are given detailed information about course requirements of various fields of concentration, there are always some who misunderstand regulations or who are simply uninterested. Although the Deans' Office attempts to match interests of students and adviser before assignment and tries to give any student who wants a particular adviser a free choice, there are always some unfortunate conflicts either of interest or personality, that lead nowhere beyond the study card.

The students who think they want to concentrate in the sciences, for instance, pose a definite problem to the person who assigns advisers. For about 45 percent of entering Freshman plan to head toward the sciences, while only about 25 percent of the advisers are in the field of science. Leroy S. Rouner '53, assistant dean of Freshmen in charge of assigning advisers, says that he would not assign all the scientists to science even if he could, for "that" would set the adviser up as a mere dispenser of information. The adviser should know the correct details about the field, of course, but he certainly does not have to be a physicist."

Eating in the Union

Another problem, noticed especially by the students themselves, is the lack of the use of the Union dining hall by many advisers. Proctor-advisers, of course, receive 600 meals free at the Union, and they are usually much in evidence. But the teaching fellows, those in part-time Corporation appointments who live neither in the Yard nor in the Houses, receive for each advisee, $22 and only three free meals per term. and those on full-time appointments--members of the Administration, professors, or House tutors, receive no compensation beyond six meals on the Union per year per advisee. Many freshmen seem to feel that the Union is a good place to meet their adviser, but it is natural for the adviser to be hesitant. As Edward T. Wilcox, adviser and associate director of the Bureau of Study Counsel, says, "I never eat with my advisees unless they ask me to. The last thing we want is to have lots of eager advisers rushing around the Union to find freshmen. I go and sit by myself and see if any freshmen will come over." Actually, the person the freshmen are complaining about is not the one who comes to the Union--even if he makes no effort to pick out his advisees--but rather the one who constantly sits with other advisers or never comes to the Union at all.