Sometimes I think Northwestern is an Ivy. Maybe that’s because every sweatshirt I see around campus says Harvard, Yale or Princeton. Some people grumble about the seniors who still don crimson more proudly than purple. But to those people I say: You didn’t get into an Ivy League school either, so what do you know about anything? I think we need to take the Ivy League sweatshirt program to the next level and institutionalize it.
Each freshman should receive a sweatshirt from the top ten institution of his choice. Let’s mask the quasi-intellectual ghetto that is NU with the trappings of real accomplishment. We can all pretend that our faculty is composed of greats like economist Andrei Schleifer, who was accused of defrauding the U.S. government. And let’s further pretend that NU would pay the $26.5 million dollar out-of-court settlement fees for our professors’ legal shenanigans.
There is nothing better than making NU seem like a different place. It’s embarrassing to go here. This place is a joke, an institution whose academic rigor doesn’t amount to a protruding nose hair on Larry Summers’ elite academic face. Our professors don’t do research and our students don’t learn. No one who has graduated from NU has ever done anything of worth. And worst of all, it’s a school full of people who would rather be somewhere else. Who wants to be like those losers?
Every time I see some Dartmouth paraphernalia, I get a breath of fresh Ivy air that keeps me going in the asphyxiating idiocy and mediocrity that is one of this nation’s premier institutions. As long as we stare at the heroes who have donned these life-saving clothes, we will be safe. But NU students are notoriously ugly. How can we possibly look at them all day? Every now and then, we might feel tempted to look at something more attractive, like a professor, a building or a bucket of feces. Well, the professor thing is easy enough to fix. All professors should be required to come to class smoking a pipe, sipping a glass of sherry and talking in the pretentious accent of the Bostonian elite. How refreshing!
But what about our pesky campus landmarks? Every time we see a name like Norris or Tech or Ryan Field, we are sure to become depressed. So instead of Deering Field, let’s talk about Harvard Yard. Let’s call our quasi-secret society, DERU, by the name of a real clandestine cult, Skulls & Bones. And Homecoming will be The Game. What game? The Harvard-Yale game, of course.
I salute the foot soldiers who wear other universities’ logos day in and day out. They are the real McCoy: They are out there on the front-lines of this battle, fighting for NU. Let us make a pact to each other and to our humble institution to help it become the greatest it can be. Let’s toss to the wayside outmoded traditions that stem from our history and culture as a university. Let’s wipe the slate clean of our identity, because we can be so much more than who we really are. We can be who they are.
Prajwal Ciryam is a Weinberg senior. He can be reached at [email protected].
