Still, his attitude toward school has stayed with me and has become one of the stories I tell my friends about this mysterious group of cheerful Harvardians. After I related another--about the girl who was taking Chem 20, Historical Studies A-12, Bio 2 and wanted to know if I thought she should take Math 25 or 21a--my friends started groaning.

One, however, stuck up for the sanity of first-year students. "You guys forget what it's like to be a freshman," she said. "They have so much more energy than we do. They can live on only four hours of sleep."

Perhaps the need for sleep is the secret to upperclass apathy. I certainly remember staying up a lot later when I lived in Pennypacker. I chose a class that met at nine every morning. Now I automatically eliminate any classes that meet before 11 a.m.

My memories of first year are empty of classical music jam sessions and parties as cool as the one thrown last week. Mostly I remember being unable to get past the crowds on the stairs due to Saturday night parties, comparing wretched foreign language experiences with friends, meeting debutantes for the first time, suffering through Dave Aronberg's incessant campaigning for U.C. rep and surviving a rooming group from hell.

I suppose it's possible that during the first month of my first year, I was as enthusiastic as this group is. It's even more likely that it's a lot more fun to be a visitor to first year life than it is to live it.

I won't write "Everything I ever need to know, I learned from my first years," just yet. But if any of my friends wonder why someone who used to define cynicism is walking around with a smile on her face, the answer is easy. Just ask a first-year.