Seeing a new batch of freshman make their way through campus – armed with maps and radiating an aura of nerves, of course – has made me start to feel rather decrepit and old. I recently encountered a group of first years who were undoubtedly lost, and who looked at me as if I were a venerable professor instead of a student just one year older than them. As if this experience wasn’t unpleasant enough, the Morning Mail I get now reads “for second-year students,” reminding me daily of my advancing year
s. This morning I resorted to the extreme measure of checking the mirror for signs of white hair. And when I ran into an other aging sophomore in the afternoon, we spent 15 minutes just discussing how quickly the previous year had gone by and how “absolutely weird” it feels not to be the youngest people on campus anymore. As my fellow centenarian walked away, he remarked just how quickly time flies by. I truly wished that I could somehow grab time by the collar and tell it to slow down. What follows are my experiments in trying to do that.