Collin Beck | Stuck without a seat

Every Tuesday last semester, I rushed to class in order to arrive early. Not because there was an interesting lecture that day or because I wanted brownie points. The reason I hurried was simple - because if I didn't, I wouldn't get a seat.

For a number of classes I've taken, there simply aren't enough desks, meaning students are forced to play musical chairs. And I hate musical chairs. Always have. That's why I had my birthday parties at the roller-skating rink (also, because they had glow sticks).

In an accounting class I took, arriving late or even on time meant sitting in the aisles. On some occasions, even those filled up and people had to sit on the floor - behind another row of students.

It seemed like a misappropriation of resources to walk down a beautiful wood-paneled hallway and ride down an escalator only to enter class and sit on the ground.

I've come to expect this treatment in the College, but Wharton? I used to think that each Wharton kid got their own manservant like P. Diddy's - to tie their shoes and hold an umbrella over them when it rained. Now they don't even have a place to sit? Are the golden halls of Huntsman simply gilded?

Apparently, this seating shortage stemmed from the fact that there were multiple sections of the class, and students from the morning sections preferred to sleep in. The professor pleaded that students attend their correct sections or at least be the ones on the ground if they didn't.

To my shock, the honor system didn't work with Wharton students. I guess we'll have to keep the SEC around after all.

In this situation, more drastic actions were needed. The professor could have taken roll and kicked out anyone breaking the rules. While this would prove to be time-consuming initially, a few embarrassing walks out of the room would give Wharton students an "incentive" (they love incentives) to go to the right class.

Sometimes the problem isn't the number of seats, but the quality. I was in a writing class where everyone sat at a table, but the last person was relegated to a bench that looked like a church pew. Whenever I arrived last, I didn't know if I should comment on the author's work or throw out a "Hallelujah."

College freshmen Josh Eisenberg had a similar problem in a Biology class, where students ended up sitting in the aisles. "The class is so crowded and the lecture hall is poorly designed," he told me. "There's seats behind columns."

I'm not a Bio major myself, but I'm pretty sure most people can't see through columns. Otherwise they would straight-up dominate Deal or No Deal.

In my experience, by far the worst building is McNeil. Many of the classrooms basically look like gymnasiums that someone threw desks in. You're never quite sure if class will be cancelled because a floor hockey game broke out.

Needless to say, they often run out of desks to put in the gymnasium (probably to make room for the rope climb), so people rush to get them.

Once they fill, students hurry to sit in the windows. Sometimes even the windows are full, and people have to stand in the back.

Don't get me wrong - sitting in the window has its advantages.

If class gets boring, you can just zone out and watch what's happening on Locust Walk.

The problem is, you end up staring at girls wearing sunglasses that weigh more than they do. Then, you take your midterm and there's absolutely nothing about windows, sunglasses or that crazy LaRouche guy and his pamphlets.

But you shouldn't even be in this situation in the first place. Even in the movies, where the schools are in such poverty that only Hilary Swank or Michelle Pfeifer can save them, the students still have chairs.

And with an endowment of over $6 billion, the least Penn could do is provide every student with a desk.

Collin Beck is a College senior from Minot, ND. His e-mail is beck@dailypennsylvanian.com. The Dakota Kid appears alternating Thursdays.

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