Deep in the forests of Pennsylvania, far from civilization, roams the great field of Bison. These magnificent beasts migrate from all over the country to come here and, after a time, leave again back to their homes or to even more bountiful fields. The cycle is truly awe-inspiring. The beauty of such miracles of nature can never be understated, and as they wake at the crack of dawn for the beginning of their daily trudge in search of food and instruction, they only acquire a slight addiction to the wonderful nirvana of caffeine.
Welcome to Bucknell.
Here, only ranking second in the Princeton Review for how much hard liquor is consumed (darn University of Wisconsin-Madison, taking our rightful place), we have the finest engineering school. No one really cares about the other colleges, but we have a great engineering school. Even though Arts & Sciences students make up a majority of the population, everyone cares about engineering. Even though management classes are incredibly limited because of how many people want the programs, everyone cares about engineering. And it makes sense, because the engineers will be the only ones of us not living in poverty in the grim darkness of the third millennium.
As can be expected with a herd of Bison, our fields are beautiful. The great scapes of green, green and even green (the writer confesses to colorblindness) draw in even the greenest of trekkers, with the wonderful programs under OEL. Undertaking these programs are some of the toughest students in the country, the mighty Bison. Whether they’re charging around campus to train for Track & Field or trudging up the hill at eight in the morning to make it to class on time, these glorious monsters will persist through a school year fraught with parties, more parties and a steady stream of work that is guaranteed to teach you time management or kill you in the effort.
The extracurricular life is perhaps the only thing here that requires more time investment than the classes. While many will not opt for that vast of an array of clubs—likely not having something a minimum of four nights a week as I do—your level of commitment is entirely determined by how tired you desire to feel and how little sleep your body allows you to pretend to function with. Having “bored” and “Bucknell student” in the same sentence represents an oxymoron.
Sleep is worth its weight in a cure for hangovers here. For up to a week straight I’ve gone to sleep at 3 a.m. or later, struggling to wake up in time for either my 8:30 or 9 a.m. classes. The afternoon of writing this, my bell alarm clock arrived in the mail, promising an angered roommate (sorry, Jacob) and some poor soul in the Smith Quad getting literally clocked.
A note for any prospective or current students: if you desire free entertainment, just position yourself by a window on any Friday night. The regular frolickers are far more entertaining than even the most outrageous sitcom. I accompany the viewing experience with board games, which is obviously the best way to view them. Bonus points if you get a dorm with a view of the frats, for their exploits are legendary.
TLDR: It’s fun, it’s funny, it’s exhausting, it can be painful, but most of all, it’s home. While I have many grievances with the school and can cry and moan about it until the stars fall from the sky, I wouldn’t want any other school. Except maybe an Ivy League. Hey, Harvard, if you wanna send that letter that got lost in the mail, now would be the time.
The exit signs… their memory haunts me.