As promised, the inaugural Gaudeamus Igitur!
Much of the matters I've been discussing here are difficult. The fierce loyalty that many feel for their alma mater is such that Exeter Unafraid is simply beyond the pale. For some, that I could violate the schoolboy code and speak openly about such things - that's what's truly problematic.
As I have said elsewhere, it isn't despite my devotion to Exeter that I feel compelled to expose the unfortunate realities - it's because of it. As such, I steadfastly refuse the temptation to be made into an enemy of the Academy! Instead, I embrace the call to serve as the loyal opposition. I invite you to join me to seek a moral renaissance that can only begin by restoring Exeter's integrity.
As I have said elsewhere, it isn't despite my devotion to Exeter that I feel compelled to expose the unfortunate realities - it's because of it. As such, I steadfastly refuse the temptation to be made into an enemy of the Academy! Instead, I embrace the call to serve as the loyal opposition. I invite you to join me to seek a moral renaissance that can only begin by restoring Exeter's integrity.
That being said, it's easy to get enmeshed here in negativity over the current leadership. What is the antidote?
To show the affection and admiration I have for this great institution, I offer Gaudeamus Igitur. Here, I'll lovingly share the anecdotes and adventures from both my student and faculty days. I trust you will find these enlightening, entertaining, and entirely Exonian.
This week, in honor of the end of the term, the tale of the Midnight Scream of 1992.
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| Cowpath |
One fine fall afternoon, a crew of seniors congregated in my "flight deck" faculty apartment in Wentworth Hall. Our conversation turned to legendary pranks.
In the Old School, before coeducation came along in the 1970's, the all-testosterone chemistry sparked some elaborate stunts. Back in the day, a VW "Bug" had somehow been hauled up onto the Assembly Hall stage. On another occasion, a cow. What's wonderful about the cow conspiracy is that it must have had a farm kid connected to it. Someone knew what no city dweller would - you can get a cow to climb stairs. But unlike most gravity-driven phenomena, what goes up in this case doesn't necessarily come down so easily. And there are a lot of steps to get from the Assembly Hall stage to the street.
After passing on this and other Academy lore, the seniors began to ponder how they might make their mark. As it happens, I shared an idle idea that passed through my mind in student days. I never found the time to carry it out - just another near-forgotten adolescent daydream.
The core concept was to take one of the Academy's longstanding forbidden traditions to a new level. The Midnight Scream was particular to the institution because of the peculiar pedagogy that set it apart from other schools. Much has been said of the vaunted Harkness education, seminar-style teaching around a round table. That, combined with another element, is what forges the extraordinary alloy of an Exeter education. The teaching does not focus on exams. This comes from the conviction that life requires constant readiness. Any pedagogy that culminates in some big test is not the proper way to prepare students for what John Phillips called "the great end, and real business of living." So, instead of exams, students at Exeter are constantly peppered with quizzes. In effect, every day is a test that should be gone after as if it were the final exam. That is a philosophy to live by!
At schools that operate around exams, terms end over several days depending on any given student's schedule. After the end of classes, exams begin and things die out with a whimper. But at Exeter, everyone finishes the term at the same time. And so - it ends with a MIDNIGHT SCREAM!!!!
In its classic formulation, the Midnight Scream consists of students opening up their dorm room windows just before midnight. When the bell in the Academy building's tower rings signaling the moment, Exonians let out a howl only matched by non-Exonian teens at the height of Beatlemania.
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| Lots of visitors to Seacoast NH |
Back in the 70's, the school began to crack down on this tradition. Word had it that those nearby on farms complained. After the scream, cows refused to give up milk for days. To enforce the ban, faculty would carefully monitor the situation from outside. As kids opened windows to carry out this nefarious deed , faculty on patrol would call out to discourage transgressors. Still, it was hard to squelch the scream.
My notion was to introduce technology into the mix. There is, after all, a limit to the volume any one teenage can muster. But what if all the stereos on campus were brought to bear?
The seniors embraced the idea. The conspiracy to carry it out was now underway. At that point, I properly distanced myself from the proceedings. It was their prank, after all. Moreover, it would be unseemly for a faculty member to engage in such activity. However, I offered to volunteer, albeit informally, as the faculty advisor. They accepted my offer. As such, I insisted that they respect one key boundary. No major rules could be broken in executing this stunt.
The initial idea was to craft a recording and then broadcast it out of WPEA, the student radio station. Everyone would tune in to it, and so be in synch. As the year passed and the end-of-term loomed just weeks away, a fundamental problem because clear. There was no way to play this out of WPEA without violating my ground rule. It would require that someone sneak out of the dorm after-hours to get to the station then located in the old library. During one of our infrequent check-ins on the matter, the conspirators expressed their frustration. How could they accomplish this without breaking any major rules?
I suspect they were looking for me to give them an easy out, to either explicitly of tacitly sanction the needed rule-breaking to facilitate the original plan. Of course, I did neither. I insisted that they find some means to carry out the caper within the duly agreed limits. I encouraged them to meet the challenge. That is, I argued, what made it a worthwhile prank. If it could be easily accomplished, where would be the greatness?
I didn't hear from them for awhile. Then, as graduation neared, I was informed that a solution to the problem had been found. I didn't know the details of their preparations, but I would guess that agents passed the word from dorm-to-dorm, student to student.
On the night following the last day of classes, as midnight neared, my fellow dorm faculty assembled dutifully outside to carry out one of our last tasks for the year. We chatted amicably in anticipation to the usual struggle to suppress this voluminous expression of adolescent enthusiasm. The conspirators had managed to maintain secrecy. My colleagues were clueless. As we fanned out around the dorm, a few commented on how unusually quiet things were. Perhaps this venerable tradition had died? It seemed odd - was something up that we had somehow missed?
And then....
I will refrain from attempting to describe the actual contents of the recording. You had to be there.
After, the DJ played Kool and the Gang's "Celebrate." I remember some girls in Amen Hall spilled outside to dance.
I feigned surprise and indignation alongside my colleagues. No, they didn't like getting bettered in this practical joke. At graduation, after the shock had settled down, the Principal showed herself to be a better sport by honoring the undertaking with an aside in her graduation address.
It wasn't till years later that I fessed up my small part to any former colleague. As I explained to the conspirators, what little I added was simply a graduation gift from the Class of '79 to the Class of '92.
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And - a special shout-out of congratulations to the Class of 2019!
And - a special shout-out of congratulations to the Class of 2019!
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Tips? Suggestions? Comments? Drop a line to: contact (at) ExeterUnafraid (dot) com
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