WHEN I FIRST heard Harvard people bragging about their great diversity, I thought they were talking about some kind of graduate school for scuba divers. I soon discovered that what they were referring to was the rag-tag, motley, kaleidoscopic, crazy-quilt, incongruous mixture of humanity that gathers each year in Cambridge to pursue its lofty goals.

The truth is that many of us have absolutely no idea why the hell we are here, or exactly what a "lofty goal" is. From this chaos of uncertainty sprouts patterns in the way that students conduct themselves. Just look at a typical Harvard section in a humanities course...

Section Leader: Hello and welcome to our first section meeting. I am your section leader and, because this is a humanities section and not a science section, I am fluent in the English language. I know you are all here to delve into the mysteries of Pope's magnificent literature, but before we do let's get to know each other. Please describe yourself.

Student One: I am a pre-professional, sometimes known as "pre-wealth". I have no phony ideals, no silly pseudo-social concerns, no false pictures of what I want and how I am going to get it. I want money and I really don't care how I get it.

I do copious reading of past year's exams, and often stay after class to say a few words about pope to the section leader in order to make sure that he remembers my name. A good grade in a bullshit course like this might look good on my resume, and might possibly convince potential employers that I have what it takes to own a mansion and a yacht.

Student Two: I am the person who is majoring in this subject. I will be disgraced if I'm not able to show the class that I know more than the section leader about this subject. I piss off everyone by discoursing on archaic usages of every term, and offering short bibliographical notes on many obscure names.

Though surely I must recognize that my actions are detrimental to the discussions, for some reason I still see it as my duty to say things like: "The actual motivation for Pope's work must be seen in relation to his historical context and particular societal constraints, which, I am afraid, are just not dealt with in this course al all."

Student Three: I am the person who thought that this was going to be a gut. I thought Alexander Pope was one of those Catholic religious chiefs. I am furious to discover that in order to pass I might actually have to do some work. When the section leader asks for questions, I inquire about the extension policy. I am otherwise very quiet in class except for when work is assigned--then I roll my eyes and make a noise that I create by puffing my cheeks, moving my jaw forward, and blowing air up at my forehead.

Student Four: I am the argumentative one. I have not done any of the reading so I argue every meaningless and vague point into the ground. I believe that this will cause the section leader to assume that I did the reading, and subconsciously hope that these annoying actions will somehow raise my status in terms of my classmates. I'm not very smart.

Wailing against unspecific word definitions is my favorite activity. As soon as someone attempts to answer a section leaders question, I like to excitedly break in and say something like. "Fah! Your words are open to blatant misunderstanding! Surely we must establish a common vocabulary if we can ever hope to fathom even a modicum of what Pope meant. That is to say, what he 'meant', what he MEANT, and-or what he "MEANT'! It is simply meaningless to go on unless common meanings are first established and maintained..."

Student Five: I'm the guy who is actually interested in the material. I'm a real pain in the neck to everybody else because I occasionally inject meaningful statements into the discussion, forcing specific and relevant conversation. I am despised by the "arguer" who often gets trapped by my tendency to direct the conversation towards what is important. Some call me a "geek" for my actions.

Student Six: I am what is called a Euro. I have an asymmetrical, dyed hairstyle and tend to wear clothing from the 20s. Sometimes I wonder aloud why we are even sitting in this class, for indeed we are all going to die someday, and then what? I think section discussions are all so pedestrian, for I once read a book by T.S. Eliot and then debated its relevance to the underground music movement over a cup of coffee and a clove cigarette at a nameless cafe with a man wearing a beret-like hat. I too sometimes wear a beret-like hat.

Student Seven: I am the cynical asshole who sits in the back and labels everyone much like this. I am too far removed from reality to establish my own identity, so I pick on other people's. In class I say things with great annoyance like, "Don't you think we're reading too far into this? How do we know that Pope meant anything more that just what is immediately evident on the surface?"

I feel presumptuous enough to condemn all academia with a flippant phrase and a frustrated squeal. I despise people who take the discussion too seriously, as well as those who don't. I'm just thankful that I'm not like the others.

Section Leader: Thank you for being so honest. It is very rare for a section leader to have this opportunity to know the real motives behind the discussions. I am grateful for this opportunity to quit before having to go through a semester of hell with you nimrods.