One student struggles with her decision to go to IC
By Sandra Canosa
As I stand at the edge of the Emerson Parking Lot and gaze to the land of bounty that is Cornell University, I can’t help but shout for all to hear, “Why can’t I be like them?” Of course, it’s three in the morning on a Tuesday, and as I catch a glimpse of yellow marshmallow jackets making their way toward my cry of distress, I tuck and roll down the hill into the depths of unkempt marshland below.
Every night before I fall asleep I slap myself across the face a few times for applying to IC when I could have tried to get into Cornell. The valedictorian of my high school class goes to Cornell; while he gets to experience new things like failing a class for the first time, I continue to trudge in the monotony of getting good grades. At Cornell, gone would be the days when I could refer to the girl on the second floor as “My Asian Friend” and people would instantly nod in agreement, knowing precisely whom I’m talking about.
But Ithaca College’s inferiority does not stop at Asians. Consider the size of our campus: I can get across campus from the Lower Quads to Smiddy Hall in about ten minutes. This does not qualify as a workout. Students, like myself, must then resort to going to the gym to get their fitness on, resulting in overcrowding and the phenomenon known as “Treadmill Sorry!,” where individuals are forcibly pummeled off their cardio machines the moment the timer reaches 30:00. At Cornell, this need not be, thanks to a campus roughly the size of Siberia. Students get their exercise simply by walking from class to class. In fact, the good Samaritans that run Cornell seek to make sure that their students don’t physically overexert themselves by charging $90 a semester to actually step foot inside a gym. In addition to the physical benefits, directionally-challenged people like me could potentially profit simply by having a vague idea where they are—North Campus, East Campus, etc. Here at IC, the only directional indications seem to be up or downhill. But preferably downhill.
Another perk of Cornell’s gargantuan campus size is their governmentally recognized distinction from the rest of Ithaca. That is, they have their own zip code – 14853 (that’s three better than our 14850, for all you math whizzes). With the popping of a collar, all those Ivy Leaguers can shield themselves from the embarrassing association with the peace-and-love endorsing townies and the granola that makes Ithaca so disgustingly removed from the status quo.
This division is justified, though, as anyone can plainly see upon entering the realm that is 14853. When I, for one, get lost going to Wegmans and find myself driving on the turf of Schoellkopf Field, I have an extremely difficult time resisting the urge to break out my Medieval Knight armor kit and gallivant amongst all the buildings that so strongly resemble every castle I’ve ever seen in movies about King Arthur.
Meanwhile, back on South Hill, I can say that I feel comfortable knowing that if I should fall down a flight of stairs or two, and break my leg, there is a 90% chance that the next person who walks by will be a Physical or Occupational Therapy major (assuming I remain outside a fifty-foot radius of Park), who may possibly have the vaguest idea of what to do. But what happens when my roommate gets fleas from the seeing-eye dog in her Philosophy class? Simply another reason to be at Cornell; having the security of a friend studying to become a veterinarian.
Even if the fleas get to be too much for one to handle, Cornell offers a backup health plan Ithaca College certainly does notSchool-Assisted Suicide. One visit to the Bridge and you can send your roommate home with a 4.0, no strings attached and no rope required!
However, that is one thing I can be happy about at Ithaca—the near-absence of Greek Life. I don’t have to spend thousands of dollars—well, an extra couple of thousand—just to have “friends.” No, my buddies here came at a much cheaper price. People flocked from Quads and Terraces alike when I simply dropped the $250 necessary for a shiny new hookah. A hookah at IC is like the Olympic Torch - people seem to follow it everywhere, clapping and cheering as you hand it from one person to the next. Each little undying flame from South Hill radiates hope for our future, for we all know that those who have the hookah have the power.
Sandra Canosa is a freshman writing and psychology double major who thinks Cornell should be nominated for most awesomest university ever. Email her at scanosa1 at ithaca.edu