I have finally graduated and left OU’s hallowed halls of higher learning, but some of my more poignant Oakland memories deserve a second look.  Remember, these opinions are not necessarily those of The Oakland Post or its staff, but I bet most would agree.

Note:  As an English minor and grammar geek, it almost killed me to write so many incomplete sentences in this article, but to retain the casual and list-like style of this piece I’ve allowed myself substantial latitude. .

Academia

Sometimes I felt like I was back in high school, but more often than not, my classes were conducted as true university classes.  As usual, it’s all about the people.

Thanks

The vast majority of my instructors, especially the ones who intrigued and inspired me with their knowledge, pushing me to work harder than I really wanted.  You made it all worthwhile.

Classrooms with tables and chairs instead of those combo contraptions that made me feel like Papa Bear or Alice in Wonderland after she ate the cake.  Some of us have continued to grow since our long-ago high school graduations.

Instructors and students who patiently indulged and accommodated my bewilderment when the subject was technology.  Someday I may even learn how to use Facebook or Twitter.

The very basic laptop I finally bought two years into my college re-entry, allowing me to do my homework while my kids, on our dinosaur desktop, downloaded music to their hearts’ content.

No thanks

Instructors with PhDs who insisted on being called “Doctor.”  Give me a break.

Spoiled rich kids who had new Coach purses or North Face jackets every week but came to class without paper, pen, Scantron or Blue Book and asked to borrow one. Oxymoron (frequently):  college adults.

Being distracted in class by a nearby student sending text messages every ten minutes.

Cell phones that rang during class, including the ones in instructors’ pockets or purses.

Kids who brought laptops to class to look like serious note-takers but spent the entire period surfing the internet and sending e-mails.  You’re not fooling anyone, you know.

Students who brought snacks into class in crinkly, noisy bags and/or students who brought in stinky food like salads, subs or pizza.  I like onions too, but I don’t want to smell them in class.

Surviving a class with a particularly annoying student who asked meaningless questions to appear intelligent, and then finding that same student in one of your classes the following semester.  Of all the gin joints….

Paying an astronomically inflated price for a textbook that was rarely, if ever used in class.

Trying to sell that $150 textbook and being offered $1 because the brand new edition was being used for the next semester.

The Post

Oh, those crazy kids.  Every week, amid all the insanity, the talented staff managed to put out an always decent and often exceptional paper.  Somehow their antics and frivolity managed to make me feel young again and much older at the same time. Even the students still clinging to a shred of sanity surprised me sometimes.  They’ve left me with moments I’ll remember forever, no matter how hard I try to forget.

Thanks.

Naked Man and his facial expression–priceless. Wasn’t that his first week on the job?

The newsroom quotes board, until the Chief cracked down. It was getting pretty raunchy.

The dysfunctional-family atmosphere, where nothing was off limits and everyone was an equal target. I felt right at home.

Tuesday reggae nights at neighboring WXOU.  So much better than most of the other music (noise) I heard on campus.

No thanks.

The black rubber hose in the kitchen sink.  Ick.  Just ick.

S.G.’s filth-encrusted laptop left open on the copy desk.  How could it still be functional under all those layers of grime?

Chugging contests with whatever D.S. could find–whether liquid or solid, edible or inedible—but never, ever anything alcoholic.

Staff Mac laptops without Word or printer hookup.  It’s a newsroom.

The perpetual undercurrent of youth’s raging hormones and sexual tension which sometimes led to thinly disguised office romances.  This really did make me feel old, in a bittersweet way.

Et cetera

Sometimes college is not just about classes and homework. For me, much of the experience was about the little things that contributed to the entire campus atmosphere.

Thanks

Walking into the OC on a bitterly cold afternoon and being enveloped in the delicious steamy aroma of fresh, hot coffee from Café O’ Bear’s.  I didn’t even have to spend $6 to enjoy it.

The free newspaper box at SFH, which was always full.  Doesn’t anyone else read a paper?

Seeing a family of deer grazing down on the baseball fields or nibbling on crabapple trees ten feet from Kresge’s parking lot. The wild turkeys that liked to hang out by married housing and the trash-foraging raccoons bordered on being nasty.  I think the deer were here before the college.

Drivers of cars on campus who actually stopped for pedestrians trying to cross the street.  I was tempted to keep rocks in my pockets for those who didn’t give me and other walkers the right of way, but I settled for thanking them with a one-finger salute while yelling at their closed windows.

Young men who held doors open for me, allowing me to go through first.  Your parents would be proud.

No thanks.

Those hideously ugly turkey vultures that perched on the glass ceiling of O’Dowd.   They had heads like mangled red rubber and faces like rotten raw meat.

Hearing any of these expressions:  “My bad;” “I’m good;” “It’s all good;” “yeahhh, no;” someone actually saying “O-M-G,” or “like,” “you know,” or “you know what I’m sayin?” after every other word in a sentence. I know it’s a generation thing, but not every statement rises at the end like a question???

Guys who wore flip-flops on campus, exposing their ugly man-feet.  Some things just aren’t meant to be seen in public.

The vomit-like stench in Vandenberg when the heat was switched on. Bring back those Chinese SARS masks.

The parking lots and all the evil they implied.  ‘Nuff said.

Lastly, I’d like to acknowledge the journalism department at OU and all my co-workers at The Post, who welcomed me into the fold. It was truly a pleasure to spend time with an intelligent and creative group of people who can get the job done and still have fun doing it.  You were a big part of my OU life and I think I miss you already.