The Start of Something Special: “I mean . . . so far, so good”
Eight hundred and eleven. That’s how many newly minted freshmen descended on campus today, lugging boxes and duffels and ukuleles and fog machines (just kidding) from Westco to Eastco to Foss and beyond. It happens every year—mass chaos, familial sentimentality, and eighteen years’ worth of material accumulation swallowed up in some spirit of greetings and beginning—but somehow still feels like a miracle, like childbirth or getting slimed.
[813 is also roughly how many miles of driving lie between Brooklyn and Chicago, as depicted in that one TMBG song, but never mind that now. The Wesleyan Connection now reports that 811, not 813, freshmen have arrived. Wesleying staff have not in fact counted freshmen.]
Add to this the 87 international students already chillin’ at the Cardinal Inn, and you have the largest incoming class in the history of this fine institution—safely on campus despite the hurricane, earthquake, and whatever other Acts of God may have blocked its arrival. Bienvenue, frosh!