Genesis

In the beginning, there was the University of California, Berkeley.

At first the University was shapeless, with nary a frosh to be seen. But the state hovered over the campus and said, “Fiat lux”, and the lux was fiated. Then were the younger separated from the older and wiser, and named “undergraduates” and “graduates”. This was the first day, and all saw that it was good.

On the second day, the buildings were made to rise from the bucolic landscape, a myriad of Towers, Gates, Halls, and Libraries, each filled with row upon row of seats and desks and years-old gum remnants.

And on the third day the gardeners were called to bring forth the plants and shrubbery so iconic of Berkeley, the pollarded planes and the everlasting eucalyptus, and Strawberry Creek was made to trickle amidst it all, lending its babbling backdrop to the landscape. All saw that it was good.

Then were the colleges separated so that hapless English majors mightn’t stray into the murky waters of the EECS department, and so Chemistry majors could avoid the dangers of Creative Writing. This was the fourth day.

On the fifth day the great edifices had their lecture halls filled with great orators and teachers, themselves edifices of pedagogy, so that knowledge might be shared with whoever wished it, whether it concerned the explosive antics of Muller’s Physics for Future Presidents or the archaic utterances of Miller’s Middle English Drama, and all were pleased with what they saw.

On the sixth day Welcome Week was formed, commanding the new students to bring forth all manner of bedding and toiletries and other dormitory paraphernalia. And then it was said, “Let us make these frosh and transfers and graduates in the image of happening individuals.” So they were started on a path that would fashion them in this likeness, and give them authority over their lives and the dreams each wished to realize. All looked upon what had been made, and were very pleased.

And on the seventh day, the semester began.

Posted on 08/17/07 at 3:54PM,