Frosh and Conference are destined for love

BY RACHEL KAMINS

One of the greatest reasons to celebrate man's evolution from the primates is his development of refined sensibilities, namely, or particularly, the urge to shower regularly. Why on earth would a thinking person choose not to participate in FOOT? Think of the stink, my friends. If the idea of eight days of trail mud accumulating in your bodily crevices makes you shudder, go to FPC instead.

FPC, or Freshperson Conference, is not only cleanly, it is Yale's oldest freshman pre-orientation program. It is the kind of introduction to the college that the college itself might provide if it did things like that. In the absence of an official indoctrination, FPC tries to tell you in about two days everything you'll need to know about the Yale experience—or perhaps it will only be a matter of want to know, after you've diligently recopied by hand every article in this freshman issue.

To a charming campsite (and by campsite, I mean the cabins have plumbing but not their own dining rooms) somewhere unheard-of in rural Connecticut, upperclassmen "podleaders" retreat with randomly assembled groups of about ten frosh, or "podlings." There, bonding games will be played, not of the suck-poison-from-each-other's-fresh-wounds variety, but of the go-around-the-circle-talking sort (occasionally, when things get rather racy, there's even neck-to-neck-orange-passing relays). In between bouts of bonding, there are panel discussions, conducted by podleaders, in which podlings may satisfy their burning curiosities and upperclassmen may vaunt their hoary knowledge about such topics as classes, the social scene, activities, and hook-ups. Oh, yes, I said the h-u word.

One of the best features of FPC is that you get a chance to know your fellow podlings well enough to talk to them at the first-night party back on campus, but not too well to feel they've been disqualifed for future consideration as your first collegiate love affair. But that's not the whole point of Conference, of course. The point is to get you excited about being a Yalie, and if that involves discussing booty, well, we're not above it. It will also involve serious talk from serious guest speakers such as Yale College Dean Richard Brodhead, BR '68, GRD '72, popular professors, campus religious leaders, and New Haven citizens, all eager to motivate you to make the most of your four Yale years. The podleaders themselves can also propagandize and provide you with connections to their own respective majors and extracurricular occupations.

FPC always features performances by improv troupes, a capella groups, and other entertainers who travel out to the campsite. Besides all these scheduled activities, there is also ample free time. A good portion of the fun during these two days and nights will be provided by your very own selves, as you swim, go for walks, play ball, put up impromptu talent shows, sing, and dance. The days are full and the bonfire-lit nights are long, just what the doctor ordered for a couple hundred hyperactive prefrosh (not to mention the upperclassmen.)

Mercifully cushioning the transition between your parents' kitchen and Yale's evil cookstove, FPC provides tasty picnic-style meals, complete with end-of-summer delights like hot dogs and watermelon. Nor will you eat cold hot-dog mush for breakfast—indeed, there will be cereal. Nevermind the plasticware. It's a classy affair.

But FPC's not so classy that it's above that necessary modicum of cheese that makes any camp experience good and campy. On the bus traveling to the campsite, podleaders will teach you such classic Yale tunes as "Bulldogs, arf!" You will learn these for the express purpose of belting them with all your joyful heart as the bus pulls back into New Haven a few short but lovely sundowns later, and you eagerly approach the moment when your prim arms will wrap around your grimy FOOTie roommate.

Back to After Hours...