Like almost everything else at Harvard, Freshman Week depends a lot on how you approach it. You and about 1600 equally nervous, eager, and thoroughly confused people will be subjected to a week of nonstop new things with new people, and even if you never stop moving around there'll be things that you miss, or will want to miss. There are, of course, several ways to cope with Freshman Week, and the pattern you choose will depend on your attitude coming in and how quickly you can adjust to a rather odd situation.

New?

Approach #1. The First Week at Sleep-Away Camp Approach. This tactic is particularly recommended for those who have never been away from home for long periods of time. Prerequisites: a vacant, wondrous, slightly overwhelmed stare, a willingness to get out there and meet lots of people, and the ability to rant glibly about topics of no particular relevance. A lot of people seem to take this line, apparently reasoning that in the first week, blissful ignorance and complete openness make for the best approach. It's probably not a bad idea; there's no better time, ever, to meet people here, but the forced socialization, as it were, tends to create weird, hyper situations. There's a lot of nervous energy floating around during Freshman Week, as everyone gets used to roommates, Cambridge, and the total freedom of college life. Approach #1 is recommended for people who are either unafraid or too socially inept to know better, and requires a high tolerance for embarrassment.

Shy?

Approach #2. The Duke Mantee Autograph Model Paranoid Approach. Recommended for the Shy, the Truly Paranoid, and the Easily Disgusted. Prerequisites: A nascent sense of misanthropy or the inability to deal with people whom you are convinced are either out to get you or trying to prove their superiority. This famous approach, also suggested for the disdainful, lets you waltz through Freshman Week as an observer. As a non-combatant, you get to watch everyone else have a real "good time" while you stand at the fringes, cringing or remaining aloof. Just remember to be aware of the distance to the exit from any room you find yourself in, and make sure you can get there on a moment's notice. Don't even talk to obvious assholes, they're not worth the effort. Refuse to reveal the essential details beyond name and rank, that is, don't tell anyone where you're from, what your SAT scores were, or what you think you'll major in. Stay in your room a lot. One warning, though: if you really go for this technique, it will color the rest of your Harvard career. If you start off paranoid, shy, or easily offended by your classmates, you might stay that way. In a few years everyone else will, too, so why not get a head start?

Boring?

Approach #3. The Standard Approach. Prerequisite: Desire to talk about your SAT's, major, law or medical school of choice. You must read all of the suggested books and go to as many University-sponsored events as possible. Always smile. Spend a lot of money, and get thoroughly lost at least twice, once on campus and once in Cambridge (which by some quirk of the Puritan Ethic lacks signs indicating the names of major streets, but has them for side streets, presumably working on the assumption that if you don't know the name of the street you're on, you don't deserve to. Members of the elect know; everyone else has to guess. Thank you, John Calvin).

Aloof?

Approach #4. The Cultivated Superiority Approach. Prerequisite: before you arrive in Cambridge, compile a list of things that you have done or that your family owns that are sure to impress anybody. A subdivision of this is Intellectual One-Upmanship. If your new roommate has read all of Proust's A La Recherche du Temps Perdu, come right back at him with your A.P. scores (fours are dull), or your knowledge of physical chemistry. Lying is permissable, because no one will ever know the difference if you can effectively fake it. Make pronouncements about everything. Wear a lot of preppie clothes; LaCoste shirts and khaki pants are recommended. Topsiders are passe. Scoff at naive enthusiasm with a knowing, sardonic grin. Categorically refuse to be excited or amused by anything except yourself. Potential hazard: everyone will hate your guts. In many cases, that's exactly what you want, because they'll never bother you again, and that's what you want.

Rowdy?

Approach #5. The Lets's Be Obnoxious Approach. Drink a lot. Try without any style whatsoever to lose your virginity. Get into water fights with kids in the dorm across the way. Buy a lot of Roger Dean posters and put them up in your living room. Cut down your roommates. Throw up at least once. Alienate everyone while you have a good time.

In Control?

Approach #6. The Cool-o-Matic Approach. This is it. Sashay your way through Freshman Week without pain or loss of all-important style points. If you want to enjoy your week, do it this way. Arrive a little bit late, at the risk of being stuck with the living room or the misfit in your rooming group. Yeah, that's right, the 400-pound sumo wrestler from East Schneck who listens to opera real loud, and picks his nose.

The basic philosophy behind this approach is to take everything in stride and do what you want, and only that. Attend only required events, spend the rest of your time partying with a carefully selected group of equally cool people. Be polite, and willing to joke around, but don't hesitate to avoid obviously dull people and crowded parties with a lot of insecure types. Don't let anything bother you. If you stay cool, you can actually enjoy the week, because you won't be frazzled or unnerved too fast. Pace yourself. You've got all week, and then four years--eternity, practically, stretching out ahead of you. Keep the week in perspective and you're golden.