A lot of people come to Harvard grimly determined to give up all the horsing around they did in high school in order to devote themselves piously to four years of serious academics. Others arrive for freshman week just as determined to prevent academics from interfering with four years of serious horsing around. Most people are worried about whether they'll be able to pull it off, all alone, without guidance, without friends, without parents. Harvard has tried to make sure that no matter what your attitude, and no matter what your fears, you will have someone to help you handle it--your freshman proctor.

"Welcome to Camp Harvard," my proctor said only half-sarcastically the night I arrived. "Don't look so worried. You're going to have fun." She was very insistent on this point. So are most proctors. If your first question is, "Where's the library?" your proctor will give you the answer, but will add in the same breath that you did not come to college just to study. If your first question is, "Where's the nearest bar?" your proctor will probably take you there himself. If, midway through the semester, you find yourself lost in your courses, hating your roommates, and too far from home, your proctor will invite you in, hand you a beer and a Kleenex, and listen to the whole thing. He or she might even come up with a few solutions.

The freshman proctor system is designed to provide you with informal advice and friendly consolation from men and women who have already made it through four years of Harvard. The theory is, they're older than you and they ought to be wiser. Each freshman entryway has at least one, and sometimes two, proctors in residence, chosen by the Freshman Dean's office. Their job is to be there when you need them.

"It's the ideal government," said one former freshman. "The guy was around when I needed help. When I didn't, he left me alone."

Ideal parent sounds more like it. The beauty of the system is that proctors are not supposed to criticize, discipline, or form your character. You are too old for that now. The proctor is supposed to perform services for mature young adults. He or she may bake cookies for the dorm every week. And buy beer for the dorm every couple of nights. And settle roommate disputes. And advise freshmen on where to get laid. The proctor is a camp counselor with a Harvard degree and a tweed suit. A person who's on the way up and who wants to save money by living in a Harvard dorm. Often, a person who doesn't know how to leave Harvard after all these years. Sometimes, a person who doesn't want to live alone and who enjoys playing Big Sibling. Often, a nice friend. Sometimes, a real jerk.

Many of the males interviewed who had male proctors ended up with polarized pairs--proctors whose incompatibility kept the dorm constantly entertained. A freshman who lived in Matthews when it was still an all-male dorm had such a duo. One proctor was third in his class at Harvard Law and didn't know when to stop. He was so competitive that even a waterfight became a contest. If he lost he'd be upset for days, and he'd sneak up on people hours later with buckets full of water to drench them in revenge. The other one was an easygoing Mr. Open Door, a beer-drinking football player who took his boys out to girls' colleges on weekends. The two rarely spoke. A freshman from Thayer described a blow-by-blow battle of sexual rivalry between his proctors, one of whom was quite a stud and the other a real loser. The dorm laughed far into the night.

Most of the women interviewed never got along with their proctors. One characterized hers as "totally unhelpful--he was always telling the girls to lose weight. He basically ignored us unless we were exceptionally good-looking. You have enough problems freshman year without that." A freshwoman who lived in a mixed entry conceded that her proctor had been a nice guy, but a complete loser when it came to dealing with eighteen-year-old women. "He was very popular with the guys in the dorm--mainly, I think, because they were flattered to drink beer and play touch football with a 28-year-old grad student. All he could manage to say to us women were things like, 'How's your boyfriend?" I didn't have one."

Female proctors for some reason got more favorable reviews. Freshmen women appreciated them because they knew how to relate to other women as friends, and because their presence as role models ("successful women") was often comforting. One proctor was a transactional analyst, another was breezing through Harvard Business School, another was at the Law School and loving it. Their proctees liked the maternal warmth and easygoing support. One freshwoman from Canaday said, "My proctor had just graduated from Radcliffe two years before, and she was very cynical about Harvard men. When we felt rejected and lonely she'd cheer us up with her own combination of feminism and experience. She did for us what most of the male proctors have been doing for male freshmen for a long time--she bathed our wounded social egos with pro-female pep talks. Her insights were all the more valuable because she was older."

Another said her proctor had given copies of Fear of Flying to everyone in the entry. "She handled roommate problems better than anyone I'd ever seen." Many male freshmen said they found female proctors to be less uptight than the men. Some freshmen had male proctors who tried to compete with their students socially and athletically, and found female proctors' non-competitiveness a relief. Said one, "You have a hard time competing with your peers. It's an unfair disadvantage, and a very demoralizing one, to have to measure up to some stud proctor who's getting A's at Harvard Law."

Of course, there are a couple of out-standing proctors who do more than serve beer and play big brother. Over the years, Dean of Freshmen Burriss Young has developed somewhat of a cult around himself and his Mass Hall proctees. He reportedly gets first pick from the freshman roster in choosing the lucky few who will reside in his dorm, and there's lots of self-congratulation in Mass Hall because of this. "Burriss creates a real Old Harvard atmosphere--we were always invited to his room at night for Chinese food and worldly discussions of politics and academia," said one of the chosen. "He was always bringing Harvard deans and other bigwigs to the dorm so that we could meet them socially and realize what great guys they all are. Some of them were arrogant turds, but quite a few of my friends had a very different impression of the Harvard administration after that. Burriss was a great contact."

There are other stories. One resourceful proctor managed to transfer a non-athletic freshman out of the then jocky, preppy Greenough to the coveted sanctuary of a single room in Hurlbut. "I'll never forget him for that," the freshman vows fervently. Another proctor who had some sort of clout with the administration kept several kids miraculously off academic probation for the entire year. "I don't know how he did it," one of them marvels. "It was a beautiful sleight-of-hand"

Academic first aid isn't supposed to be quite so accidental. I almost forgot to mention the other creation of the Freshman Dean's Office--the adviser. These men and women are drawn, like the proctors, from a pool of administrators, Law and Business School students, and occasional Arts and Sciences grad students. They are supposed to sign your study cards and advise you on academic matters during your first year, when you need such advice desperately.

Here are some evaluations of the adviser system: "Mine was a basketball player who never grew up. I can't remember a thing he said."

"There was a married couple who lived down the hall. One of them was my adviser, but I was never sure which one."

"Had it turned out that my adviser was a human being, with whom I could have had a decent conversation, it would've been nice."

You can't expect much from the adviser system, then. Most freshmen who still need academic advice, after talking with their adviser, see their proctor or take their questions straight to a professor in a field they're interested in. He or she is usually surprised and flattered.

The proctor system, though, actually works, although exactly what it accomplishes is multi-faceted. Freshmen need basic information; proctors provide it. Freshmen are often confused about their academic aspirations and frantically insecure about the social expectations they've set for themselves; proctors can give them support and encouragement. Freshmen get into unbelievable tangles with roommates they didn't choose; proctors can help unravel the knots. Freshmen have just left the security of their families, some of them for the first time in their lives; proctors often become surrogate parents. Beyond these obvious functions there may be something more. Every year Harvard admits 1600 new members about whom it knows little. They have, to a point, come from all over the country and from almost every conceivable background. The administration is responsible for seeing that the whole thing gels somehow, in an orderly and friendly way, and that you will eventually justify its decision to admit you when you exit into the real world with the Harvard stamp on your forehead.

The proctors who put their arms around your shoulders and answer your bewildered questions about careers and lifestyles are supposed to become your friends; and their opinions are sincerely their own. They are more than generalized role models; they are, quite specifically, Harvard role models. There's not a single "failure" or malcontent among them. Harvard is proud of every one. Most of them were undergraduates here, and are eagerly pursuing careers as Harvard administrators, Harvard academes, and Harvard-trained lawyers and businessmen. Their enthusiasm is likely to rub off on 18 and 19 year olds who were never so confused in their lives.

There's a curious advantage to be had from all of this, however--a definite plus that the Freshman Dean's office could never have dreamed up but which tends to happen anyway. Granted, freshmen are going through hell, and they all think it's a result of their personal immaturity and neurotic fears. Well, after a few months of watching their proctor chew his/her fingernails over a Saturday night date or go absolutely bananas over a late paper, they begin to feel just fine.