I’ve never thought of myself as a sorority girl.
In fact, I’ve always been the first person to make fun of them. Between the claims of sisterhood and the chanting and singing and oh god, the chanting and singing, I was convinced that joining a sorority was not the way to go. Anyway, my life was already full of far more interesting things, like watching paint dry.
Suffice it to say I was not expected to participate in sorority recruitment this year, which is precisely why I did so. Rather than continuing in the vein of bashing sororities indiscriminately, I wanted a valid basis for my sorority-bashing.
Seriously though, I was basing my opinion of sororities on everything I’d seen and heard of those in other schools. MIT sororities were apparently different. Even after a year here, I wasn’t entirely convinced of that. I needed to see this for myself.
I’m of the opinion that the way to dispel stereotypes about MIT’s sororities is not to put unsuspecting girls through Formal Recruitment. Formal Recruitment, while giving people equal time to all five of MIT’s sororities, is sensory overload at its peak. (You’d say the same thing if you saw five instances of 100 identically dressed young women in a single day.) Sure, it works for tons of people; I’m partial to the setup of frat rush, where you go where you want to go without four solid days of alphabetical order and time constraints.
I did, however, realize that MIT’s sororities are full of amazing, driven girls, and I was glad to see that sorority stereotypes were for the most part nowhere to be found. And when I received a bid from Sigma Kappa, what had begun as a joke became an extremely difficult decision. I decided not to pledge this year, choosing to wait until next September before giving a definitive answer.
So long as I never ever have to go through Formal again, that is.
So here’s an unwritten rule at MIT for you: sophomores start out taking at least 60 units.
See, freshman year just isn’t masochistic enough for us. We struggle, suffer, and complain for a full nine months, but it’s all for naught. The point of the first year at MIT is for us to get over ourselves. What’s that, you say? Someone’s doing better than I am? Toto, I don’t think we’re in high school anymore! Everything’s really hard here!
Even if we poor, beaten-down no-longer-frosh come to this revelation the way we’re supposed to, registration for sophomore fall term begins and we’re all, “Well, lookie here! No more credit limit! I MUST DO EVERYTHING!”
This is never a good idea.
Sooner or later, we’ll become aware of this. We, the overextended sophomores of MIT, will discover that the difference between four and five classes is far larger than we ever could have anticipated. We’ll drop a class or two and revert to the sane man’s 48.
I had the above epiphany after spending three hours reading my 5.07 textbook and still not coming close to understanding my problem set. I dropped the class after the first week.
Now all that’s left is for me to stop believing that my cursory knowledge of all of this term’s material will get me As in everything else.