Welcome to Yale: Levin's lost freshman address

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Class of 2005: Lux et veritas. Excelsior. Et cetera.

"I shall begin my remarks by quoting the wise words of portly ex-President William Howard Taft, class of 1878, the advice he gave to his son Robert when the lad, like you, was about to embark upon the journey of growth and wonder that is a Yalie's undergraduate career. I know that the heat here in Woolsey Hall is suffocating (Note to Self: wipe brow with shirtsleeve for effect) and that only four of you have managed to obtain seats with unobstructed views of me. But you sure as heck didn't learn everything you need to know in kindergarten other than how to take naps and wet your pants, so I'd suggest that you listen up. "`Son,' Big Willie said. `Don't be a grind.'

"No one in this room was an admissions mistake; you're all amazing specimens of intellectual giftedness, and we're glad to have you here. Except for three of you. You know who you are. You shouldn't have bothered to have mommy make your little beddy for you, because once we figure out who fell asleep at the wheel over at the admissions office and let you cretins in, we're booting you back from whence you came. Sleep with one eye open, interlopers, because we're sure as hell coming to get you. (N.T.S.: Pause. Glare menacingly. Possibly bang shoe on podium).

"For the rest of you: welcome to the other Eden, demi-paradise that is Yale! Now, let's get back to this `grind' issue. A grind, as defined by our legendary alumnus Mr. Webster, is `someone who studies all the time'; alternately known as a `weenie.' Although Taft Daddy met his demise more than seven decades ago, his advice remains solid.

"Signs that you may be headed down the road to grind-dom include the following:

1. After a month of school, you still can't tell the difference between Naples' draughts of Bud and Miller Lite by blind taste test.

2. You've read every word of your Intro Psych textbook, for which you have painstakingly fashioned a bookcover out of a paper bag and have decorated with daisies and Phish logos.

3. You have failed to come to the realization that adopting a `don't ask, don't tell' policy regarding your classmates' place of origin, college, SAT score, and, oftentimes, name, is by far the best strategy, and you still have your ID dangling from a super-chic chain around your neck.

FILE PHOTO If Brodhead could see me now...

"You probably won't be seeing too much of me over the next four years, as I'll be holed up in my plush offices in Woodbridge being attended to by my corps of maids and man-servants. I may grace you with my presence after your graduation, particularly if you score a job at an investment bank or a corporate law firm. (N.T.S.: with humility). But rest assured, you younguns:even though I'll be in absentia, Yale is a place rife with opportunities that extend far beyond the graffiti-stained walls of CCL weenie bins. You don't have to read every word for every class—just enough so that you don't make your TA mistake you for the Rain Man (`This book was definitely very interesting, definitely very interesting.') If your TA doesn't speak English, you're in luck, because you'll probably have to communicate using a primitive system of grunts and improvised sign language anyway. You will learn; you will do well; you will come out smarter (though probably not better looking) than you were when you entered.

"But be sure to do other things, too: make friends, and hang out with them a lot; eat and drink at the Doodle, Louis', Mory's, and Naples (if you're wary of hangovers on class days, I still heartily recommend the last, which serves the best free water this side of the French Alps); join organizations, quit 'cause you hate them, join other organizations; venture outside the bounds of the campus—particularly to East Rock, although try to avoid the broken glass and syringes. I know Yale doesn't have—as of yet, but we're trying—the stunning mall-like glamour of Cambridge, nor the exhilarating suburban atmosphere of Princeton, but, as Taft reminded his son, there's still lots to do here that will educate you in ways apart from the academic.

"I shall close by delivering our traditional convocation in Latin, freshly revised for you (N.T.S: Say with great solemnity): Givus Mor Moneyus. Amen."

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