THE GRASS in my yard is not very pretty.

It's tough and old crabgrass, more brown than green. My dad tries to keep it in shape, but there are too many bald spots--most of them made by our dog pacing back and forth. And there are patches where the grass is a little too green and full--most noticeably over the septic tank.

But it's good grass. On my lawn, I can throw a frisbee around, chase the dog or just sit and stare at the sun.

PART OF WHAT attracted to me to Harvard was the grass--good grass, green and alive. It is grass that once led acting Dean of the Faculty Henry Rosovsky to describe Harvard Yard as a "oasis" in the midst "of everchanging urban squalor." While this might be too harsh a criticism of Cambridge, Rosovsky's point is well taken. There is something very appealing about a field of green in the middle of the Hub.

But Harvard fooled me. I never visited as a pre-frosh. I saw the school during the summer, when Harvard was basking in its post-Commencement, post-reunion grandeur. Little did I know that I would have little chance to enjoy the grass whose praises Rosovsky trumpeted so loudly.

As an undergraduate, you can't enjoy Harvard's grass--at least not in the spring, when you're supposed to. As soon as the front-page captions in the Crimson begin to read "Suzie Q. Wiggles-worth '94 enjoys the warm spring weather," Harvard begins to tear up the ground.

The spring weather tells you to bask in the sun or toss a frisbee or kick a soccerball around the Yard, but Harvard says no. Come April, the dead turf at the edge of the paved walkways is torn up. The dirt is loosened, seeds are planted. Sticky green hydroturf (a combination fertilizer/pigeon defense) is sprayed on top of the whole project. And the good folls at Facilities Maintenance rope off the grass.

Pretty soon, the maintenance workers will roll out the sod. But the ropes will stay up. It's all well and good that Harvard wants to preserve its tiny bit of "nature" against the unrelenting attack of "urban squalor." But what's the use if we can't sit on it, walk on it or play on it?

Roped-off, hydroturfed grass doesn't do undergraduates any good. But come Commencement and reunion time, the resodded Yard will look just wonderful.

WHEN PEOPLE TALK about the accomplishments of President Derek C. Bok, they mention his role in building up Harvard's coffers to $5 billion, the largest university endowment in the country.

But in interviews, Bok actually lists among his proudest accomplishments the relandscaping of the University and the improvement of Harvard's grass. The outgoing president boasts that Harvard in the Bok era has had lush green grass for every reunion.

I think it is no chance occurrence that the grass at the annual reunions turned greener while the endowment skyrocketed, alumni affairs became a vice-presidential position and fundraising became an art form.

It has been said that alumni donations go up every time Harvard wins the Game. I'd bet there is a similar correlation between how green the grass is and how much green the Class of '41 contributes to the coffers.

Harvard has to choose between me and the alumni, and it always goes with the alumni. Harvard's decision reflects the larger attitude of the University. Who gets the good seats at the Game? Who gets legacy admissions? the same people who get to enjoy the grass.

HARVARD, show me that students come first. Make alumni feel welcome. Throw a nice reunion party. But remember who the University is really here to serve.