Truth be told, you’re probably going to get a lot of shit over the next four years—and, actually, well into your adult life—for concentrating in the History of Art and Architecture. (Start thinking now about how you’re going to answer the question, “So what are you going to do with your life?”) But ignore all those Ec majors and pre-meds—you’ve made a supremely wise decision, even you made it because you don’t know what the hell else to study. Because while they spend hundreds of hours a semester in the unflattering fluorescent lights of a lab or scribbling out equations on their so-called “midterms” that occur on a weekly basis, you’ll be relaxing quietly in a dark lecture hall looking at pictures. Maybe you can even sit in the back and take a midday nap. It’s like preschool all over again.

You’ll spend much of your time at the Sackler and Fogg museums, which is great, because some serious learning gets done there. Enjoy exploring undiscovered pathways like the gruleings four-floor climb to your section in the Fogg. Feel proud of yourself as you learn to use the left staircase at the Sackler to avoid the normal pedestrian traffic as the guards check everyone’s bag for stolen purse-sized materpieces. (Airline x-ray scanners and bag searchers suddenly seem like a breeze.) And your knowledge of the museums will pay off big time when Aunt Doris comes to visit and you need some place to hold her attention for a day.

Whether you are a concentrator or not, you should familiarize yourself with the eclectic personalities of the art history professors by checking out HAA1a and 1b, “The Survey of World Art.” Though not a concentration requirement, the course is separated into two semesters, and various professors in the department present on their area of expertise. Because the class covers such a broad range of material, it will help you decide which area you want to focus on, whether it’s ancient African or modern American art. You’ll also become familiar with the likes of Benjamin Buchloh, a modern art professor who came to Harvard last year and is a world-renowned art historian. His fame comes from incredible intelligence as well as uncanny incoherence and a remarkable ability to invent words.

You’ll also meet professor Neil Levine, who last year taught the core course, Lit and Arts B-34, “Frank Lloyd Wright and the Modern City and Suburb.” Professor Levine is exceptionally anal about letting his students out exactly on time, which is great, and almost begins to make up for his extreme outbursts of anger at the innocent slide projector man whenever the images are out of focus.

Because the HAA department is so small—or, more likely, because it’s so disorganized—you won’t be getting an advisor. If the stars happen to align, you may receive the name of a professor you are permitted to bother with your problems. If not, you’ll develop a strong relationship with Thomas Batchelder, staff assistant and coordinator of undergraduate studies, or in other words, the man who answers all questions. To discuss plans of study, everyone reports to the Head of Undergraduate Studies himself, Professor David J. Roxburgh. This may seem unnerving in the beginning, but at your first meeting you’ll realize it’s much, much worse: his combination of incredible good looks and a charming European accent means you’ll manage little more in the way of conversation than a few fawning smiles and gushing “ahhhs.”

The quirky teachers and strange advising policies are just a couple aspects of a rather vibrant concentration. In spite of a lack of difficult requirements, other than a thesis for honors, HAA will keep you on your toes. Just try to stay awake.