Academic anonymity is one of the myths surrounding undergraduate education here that gives incoming first-years absurd notions of what to expect from the College. I chose to come to Harvard in large part because of this assumption-I wanted to get lost in the crowd. People had warned me of inaccessible professors and a bureaucratic rigmarole that would never end; I was happy to believe them.

In boarding school, pampered and naive, I had grown tired of 12-person classes where unfinished reading and awkward attempts at in-class discussion became central to my education. I chose Harvard over smaller colleges in order to move with the "masses" from one lecture hall to another. I wanted amplified professors to spoonfeed me their jargon.

But after first Monday of classes last year, having attended two of Harvard's largest classes (Chemistry 5: "Introduction to Principles of Chemistry" and Literature & Arts A-40: "Shakespeare, The Early Years"), I wondered if I had made a horrible mistake. Brown-nosing and extensions on papers, the two cornerstones of my secondary education, seemed distant relics. Lectures, which had appeared appetizing in theory, tasted bland and regurgitated. I needed refuge from the crowds.

My succor came disguised as a first-year seminar. What could be better than, as the coursebook promised, a semester filled with characters such as Macbeth and Hannibal Lecter, or Joe Christmas and Huck Finn? Intrigued by the eclectic reading and the nature of the work, I applied to two seminars: one examining the relationship between crime and literature, the other focusing on the writings of Twain and Faulkner.

The crucial component of the first-year seminar application is an interview, which is often given to groups of two or three. I had expected 20 minutes of torment and stress underneath intense scrutiny from professors whose academic repertoire and expertise would read like the hefty course catalog in my backpack. I would be yet another illiterate ingrate in their retinue. But professors here did not prove as frightening as I had imagined they would be.

Like Dorothy in "The Wizard of Oz, " I had been deceived by the legends of Ivy League education. One professor offered his faux-zebra hide couch for me to sit on. The other, more avuncular professor actually offered me a plate of donuts. My discussions with them, and with the other students in my interview time slots, did not provoke panic or even mild anxiety.

In addition, my brief discussions of Lizzie Borden and William Faulkner, made me remember how luxurious interaction with teachers can be. Forgetting my status on the bottom rung of the Harvard academic ladder, I traded scholastic insights with a professor, something I had never anticipated doing as a first-year. I was even accepted to one of the seminars.

The course catalog lists 70 first-year seminars for 1997-1998. With an approximate enrollment of 12 per seminar, this means that the Freshman Dean's Office (FDO) can only accommodate about 25 percent of the Class of 2001. Despite the work done by the FDO to maintain this program, it still cannot serve all first-years. The College should work to facilitate the FDO's work by funding increased numbers of first-year seminars.

At the same time, the program has several problems which need to be addressed:

Applications should be due and interviews held earlier in the orientation week for first-years. Last year, students were notified of admission four days into the shopping week. Students who had already grown enamored of other courses, and had often begun the preliminary readings or had purchased textbooks, often did not have the energy to divert their attention back to the seminars.

The application had little benefit for students or professors. Many students I spoke with felt that that application had no bearing on the process and simply allowed the FDO to register them for interviews. But since the mere submission of an application guarantees an interview, the FDO ought to rework and expand the application in-order to encourage professors to use it more creatively.

The seminars hold an ill-defined place in the undergraduate curriculum. A first-year seminar is an elective. With fewer than eight electives to spare over four years, many first-years see initial course selection as a "better safe than sorry" prospect and therefore choose to take Core courses that fulfill a requirement. Department chairs and the Core Committee should consider accepting seminars for credit.

First-year seminars are not the only places for first-years to develop relationships with fellow students and professors. Sections and smaller classes also demand the academic responsibility that I had hoped to live without. The first-year seminar program offers unique opportunities, ones which should be improved and made available to all first-years.

Ben A. Loehnen '00 recalls with fondness his days in Grays Hall East.