Exactly 364 days ago, Darth Vader and Captain Hook visited my Kings Court/English House dorm room.
I had just gotten back from dinner when a light knock brought me out of my food coma. I opened the door and found four-foot-tall versions of these villains waiting for me. For five solid seconds, I stared at them in confusion.
"Trick-or-treat!" they chimed in unison.
Oh, crap.
For the next awkward minute, I scrambled around in my room trying to find something - anything - to give to these kids.
I came up with two bags of popcorn, a retractable eraser and a hot-pink thumbtack. Not exactly what they were expecting.
For the 28 children of faculty members who live on Penn's campus, Halloween is a tricky holiday. Short of journeying to Center City, kids have nowhere to go - unless, of course, they value office supplies in their goody bags.
Rodin College House Dean Ken Grcich said he plans to reverse the holiday's tradition this year: His three-year-old daughter, Madelyn, will dress up and pass out candy in Rodin's lobby. She won't mind, since she's so young and "doesn't even know what trick-or-treating is," he said.
As much fun as she might have, she's missing out on one of the greatest childhood traditions. We could counteract this by generating Halloween spirit on campus with competitions culminating in an event for faculty children. One college house could pass out bowls of candy to its residents and have the kids trick-or-treat around the building. With more than 200 rooms in one high rise alone, that's quite a lot of loot to be had.
Michael Williams, a graduate associate in Rodin College House, said that, when people hit 18, "the candy spirit is lost." He agrees that, in addition to supporting the spirit of the holiday, events such as hall-decorating competitions would "allow people to get to know each other," especially in the high rises, where residents rarely venture out of their suites.
DuBois College House Dean Patricia Williams said she would "love the idea of one house hosting a Halloween party for faculty children" because it would "give the kids a chance to interact socially."
Organizing such an event would take minimal involvement from the students and would provide a great benefit to faculty kids who miss out on trick-or-treating on their own turf. And they aren't the only ones who have to leave their neighborhood to get candy: The area just off Penn's campus is notoriously bad territory for trick-or-treaters. Stephanie Jones, who lives on the 4200 block of Pine Street with her two daughters, has tried and failed before.
"We went up to 40th and Pine a few years back, but most of the houses [were] dark," Jones said as her oldest daughter nodded in solemn agreement. "My girls only got a couple of handfuls a piece."
2006 Wharton alumnus Jon Rugg lived on that block of Pine last year and said that "a couple kids came by, but we had nothing to give them," adding that many knocks probably went unheard. "If I were a little kid, I wouldn't trick-or-treat around Penn," he said.
Rhonda Albright, a mother of three who lives at 46th and Pine streets, came to the same conclusion. She has never been near Penn's campus on Halloween because she figures "students don't care about giving out candy."
It's one thing for our ranking to go down in the academic world, but to be known as stingy candy-hoarders - now that's gotta stop.
If you live off campus, take 10 minutes out of your day to go to Fresh Grocer and pick up a bag of candy; it will cost you nearly nothing, and just think - you can eat whatever's left. Leave your porch light on, and let Justin Timberlake bring sexy back after 9 p.m. so that you can hear the door. And if you're feeling really crazy, you can wait until 10 p.m. to start pre-gaming - after all, there's nothing a parent wants to see more than a guy with a Snickers in one hand a bottle of Hypnotiq in the other.
Next year, we can do something a bit more organized, but for this Halloween, we'll have to work with what we've got.
I, for one, will be ringing in the holiday with a freshly carved pumpkin and a sweet costume. So, Mr. Vader and Mr. - excuse me - Captain Hook, I expect to see you at my door this year. I've got two king-size Reeses with your names on them.
Ali Jackson is a Wharton and College sophomore from Cardiff, Calif. Her e-mail address is jackson@dailypennsylvanian.com. All Talk and One Jackson appears on Mondays.
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