Yana Giannoutos ‘28
Staff Writer
Hunting for a table during the library’s rush hours is like searching for a parking spot at the mall on Black Friday––every time you think you found something, someone snags your spot. This is especially true for those who enjoy Rehm, the Dinand reading room where the action happens (a.k.a. the hussle-and-bussle of students frantically printing papers for their next classes) or just anywhere except the private desks sequestered in the lonely stacks.
During my first month at school, I’ve noticed an implicit rule of engagement that applies to most buildings, from Dinand Library to Kimball Dining Hall: if someone is already seated at a table, you must either go elsewhere, or tack yourself on at the complete opposite end.
The library could be a marvelous place to meet a friend, strike up a (quiet) conversation, or perhaps bond over the shared trauma of academic rigor and a cumbersome course load. In the same vein, Kimball could be the perfect place to share a meal with someone you would otherwise never see in passing throughout the day.
The expectation that everyone (especially freshman, who are still finding friends and forming new connections) has an established group with whom to study at the library daily and eats all three meals is not only absurd, but also damaging. Avoiding tables with occupied seats or leaving several empty chairs between the ends of the long Kimball tables inadvertently reinforces cliques and prevents groups from mingling with classmates outside their insular circles. Furthermore, it echoes junior-high social scenes, where exclusion abounds and students without a place to sit end up alone.
As the winter months and final season begin to emerge on the horizon, we must collectively consider a new status quo. The intensity of midterms and finals can feel isolating and stressful, and because many of us will practically make Dinand or Rehm our primary residences as work increases, it is due time that we become comfortable with working among others. Rehm library should not have a carrying capacity of six students, and everyone who desires a seat at a Dining table should get one without having to venture deep into the stacks.
The Holy Cross community must move beyond the norm, but this is only possible if people challenge themselves to sit with strangers and consider the endless possibilities of bonds, friendships, and conversations that can transpire outside the confines of a pre-established social clique.
The library may be the place to “lock in,” and Kimball the place to eat meals, but these communal buildings have the potential to foster a unique sense of camaraderie in addition to serving their functional purpose. Holy Cross is unique in that, due to its size, students of all ages and residence halls are forced to study and eat in a shared space. It is time that we take advantage of this and learn to admire the tight-knit nature of the school; a brief exchange of words at a library, and we may realize that we are, in fact, just one degree of separation away from everyone else.
Featured image courtesy of College of the Holy Cross
Web Edited Zexuan Qu ’28
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