Back to campus

Class began today at the University of Washington. And, right on schedule, the Northwest's month-long drought splashed itself to an end. The rain poured down pretty much all day.

I wandered across campus in late afternoon, one of a few final days of fast walking I'm giving myself before leaving town Friday for my trek. All seemed calm and quiet.

Quiet as far as unusual activity went, I mean; but not devoid of noise. As my purposeful strides drew me closer to Red Square -- the heart of the campus -- I was practically knocked out of my hiking shoes by blasts of amplified sound. Whoever organizes such things had chosen to welcome students back with a performance by Macklemore, a Seattle hip hop performer. No complaints about the music itself, but the decibel level would bring tears of joy to an audiologist as he calculates the increased demand for hearing devices another forty years down the pike.

I also encountered a number of sadly scruffy figures shuffling about campus, gentlemen well past the average age of matriculation and seemingly carrying all their possessions on their backs. Some of the homeless have migrated to the U District from downtown in recent years. They may dimly recall having heard that students are more laid back than the general population, more welcoming, cheerfully communal with their possessions and cash. If so, I fear their arrival on campus comes a decade or so too late.

My take on today's UW students is that they are the product of much higher admissions standards; of a general increase in competitiveness within the student population; and of child rearing by parents who scheduled their kids' every free moment with studies and activities, an intense and active approach to life that the students have pretty well internalized. I hear a lot of articulate talk about classes, readings, problem sets, and exams. Nice kids, abstractly sympathetic to the homeless, but probably too busy to hang out with persons less motivated than themselves, let alone offer to share with them their pizzas and beer.

But then my mind returns to that crowd of young people, packed in tight around the Macklemore stage. Their faces appeared trance-like. They were waving their hands in the air. I cautiously wondered if there was some Golden Calf on the stage, something receiving their pagan worship. But this was the first day of school. Summer 2011 wasn't exactly the Summer of Love. A few kids may have been discreetly smoking a joint or two, but no clouds of incense-like smoke hovered over the crowd. No one called the Police "the Pigs," or suggested storming the Administration Building. The performance seemed politely received by students who -- behind their apparently entranced faces -- probably were half wondering where each of tomorrow's classes would be held.

Sure, it was noisy. But, I didn't really mind. As those bumper strips read: "If my radio seems too loud, you're too old." I sighed, pondering the profundity contained in that claim. I crept quietly off campus and walked quickly home.