Summer of Schadenfreude

As orientation reaches its peak and the Class of 2012 starts gagging on the campus literature that’s being perfunctorily crammed down their throats, my feelings drift between pity and “Schadenfreude,” the German word for finding mirth in other people’s misfortunes. \nI’m not proud of it. It’s just a wretched impulse that seizes me when I walk past all those misty-eyed, pasty-faced “pre-frosh” on my way to work, flitting and gibbering at the heels of their parents. They thought they were ready for college, I chortle to myself. But all they’re ready for are the forces of fate that will soon swallow them whole.\nHow will they be swallowed whole? And why? These are serious questions.\nIn my two years of observation of the deadening slough of Welcome Week, there is one tradition that provokes in me the wicked-est laughter of all: the Freshman Induction Ceremony. It’s one of the oldest traditions of the program, and the one their parents will most likely force them to attend.\nDr. Herman B Wells, in his autobiographic sketch “Being Lucky,” wrote: “When as a student I first witnessed this ceremony, the colorful regalia, the beautiful ritual, the excitement of starting another school year combined to make the moment memorable.” Before my official induction, I shared Wells’ feelings. The hellish intensity of my high school years would now amount to something more than inflating my resume with expedient “extracurricular activities” and whoring myself to the tastes and demands of seemingly omniscient admissions officers.\nSo I sat up straight in my plush auditorium seat, ready to be vindicated – not only by the relatively official status of “student,” but by the mantle of meaning that would soon be bestowed on my post-adolescent life.\nThe auditorium’s organ kicked in, signaling the start of the eerily churchlike ceremony. The orderly flow of robed figures to the stage merely enhanced the clerical atmosphere. The deep red and crimson colors evoked the feeling of generations of tradition, as well as IU’s founding as a seminary. \nAlthough I was something of a believer then, the religious tone and theme of the introductory procession unnerved me. I wanted to like it, to be inspired. But I wasn’t.\nI nonetheless found myself humming to the low, rich music. I looked about, finding other people tolerating it just as much. I feared for my soul. \nThen-President Herbert stepped up to the podium, resplendent in immaculate white robes (not unlike the evil Emperor Commodus from the movie “Gladiator”). The ritual had begun for my conversion from East Coast snob/heretic into predictable, impressionable, trustworthy Hoosier stock.\nThis can’t be what college is altogether like, I thought. \nI won’t feel the need to buy into more meaningless pageantries and spectacles like these, will I? \nI’m still an individual, right? \nMy greatest fears and dreams don’t wholly resemble those of my peers. Do they?\nWith a bitter chuckle, I surrendered my soul to the glory of old IU. But after two years of college, I’m glad I can still laugh at myself. And, of course, at those poor freshmen.