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Letters to the Editor |
TRENT CONTENTS Proposed Change, Change ... and Debate Association President's Message Topping the Competitive Recruitment Environment The Interactive Learning Centre Profile of a Volunteer: Roy O'Brien '75 "How To" series Toronto realtor Mary Crawford '82 Collections and Obsessions : Jim Doran's Various Vinyl |
A Return To Trent My name is Sanford Long (Sandy), and I am a member of the class of 1986. I am now working as a teacher for Trillium Lakelands Board of Education here in the Muskoka District of Ontario. I have been a teacher for ten years now and love it in spite of the thrashing we take from the government and media. It can be the toughest and most rewarding profession at the same time. I recently attended a professional development "Summer Institute" course that was held in Peterborough in August of this year. I decided that since I live over two hours away, I would seek accommodations at Trent University. As I pulled into the campus, my mind became flooded with the memories that four years of university life adds to your collection of life experiences. I had tuned my car radio to the local FM station now known as, "The Wolf" and they were playing some "oldies". Much to my pleasure, as I toured around the campus by the Bata library, the radio played the song, "Rocking the Casbah" by the Clash! I could remember dancing and partying to that song many times during my time at Trent! What a co-incidence for that song to come on the air as I toured around my old campus. I continued to marvel at the beauty that is Trent University. The mix of cement and wood, and the design and architecture of the place is still breath-taking. I shook my head at how it still looked so good, though I could notice a few age-spots. Some un-trimmed grass and weeds poking their ugly heads through the brick sidewalks and landings ... a few cracks in the walls here and there. Then again, I too am starting to show signs of age as well. I walked through the front doors of LEC after discovering I had to park my car way out in the back even though most of the parking lots were empty in the summer. Oh well, another reminder of days gone by. As I entered LEC, the sight and smell were both pleasant. It is still the same. Same old mailboxes and hallways with the pictures of all the graduating classes. Only difference was this time my picture was up there. I could remember the times when I had enough of education and longed to be a graduate and done with my university experience. The place was eerily quiet. The life blood that fills its hallways, rooms and walkways was not there because it was summer and it was an odd sensation to feel so alone in such a big place that was so full the last time I had seen it. It was if it was resting, waiting for the next generation of young minds to put it to the test. I walked by the stairs leading to the dining hall where I learned to love eating salads and never ate breakfast because I always slept in or skipped it. Man, I am different now since I always eat breakfast and rise early every day! More change. I continued past "the Pit" and out onto the sidewalks, admiring the beauty of the inner grounds of LEC. So pretty at any time of year, they still look great. I thought if anyone had been watching me they would have imagined that I was lost the way I kept stopping and looking around me. I am always amazed at how what I think is so modern, so new, so cutting-edge is so quickly replaced and made historical. I think of my Trent years as a group of young people so modern, so up-to-date with the times, with music and culture and life of the present. Now we are all a part of history and though we may not feel it, we would look "old" to the new group of young minds that would soon fill the place a few weeks from then. As I entered the stairs, the familiar smell of cement and years of human occupation and the familiar scents and odours that no amount of cleaning and washing can wipe away, hit me. I smiled again as memories of racing up and down these very stairs what seemed a million times, came back to me. Running down for dinner. Running up for that book I forgot. Running down to grab a pop from the machine. Staggering up after a night at the Commoner. Running down to catch the "George North" bus to catch a class at Peter Robinson College. Running past someone's bedroom that had been set up on the landing as a university prank. So much running to save time, yet it all seemed to go by so fast when I look back upon it. On I went, through the communal washrooms that are another trade-mark of institutional university residence living, to my room. I couldn't have my old room as that floor was being painted and spruced up for the lucky group of youngsters coming in September. I unpacked quickly and flew back outside to do the same trip down memory lane as I walked around the campus. Unfortunately, most of the buildings were locked and I couldn't re-live the times I had inside so many of them. The Bata library still looks so cool by the river. The Reginald Faryon Bridge still looks as modern and solid as ever. I recalled the freezing cold days when the bridge would ice up and it felt like I was going to slide down the sides of the bridge because of the walk-way design. I recalled how beautiful the campus looks at night from that same bridge with all of the lights shining from the buildings. It felt like I was exploring an ancient medieval castle as I still had not seen a soul on this sunny summer day. As I descended those familiarly tricky steps off the bridge to Otonabee, I was surprised to see how much the college had changed! A new environmental studies/science building! Wow! The design fits in perfectly with the 'old' college. That building must seem luxurious to the portables I took my environmental classes in way over past the Athletic Complex. "I must go for a drive down River Road up to Lakefield." I thought to myself as I made my way back through the beautiful grounds of Champlain College. I recalled the Spring Formal in the Great Hall. There was a big-band playing and it was an awesome night. I think Champlain is the prettiest of the colleges with its English-looking grounds and the ivy seems to have spread so much! Sadly I noticed the wooden roof that covered the benches along the main walkway no longer exists and has not been replaced. I still did not see a soul. I recalled playing squash there, I remembered sitting in on an Economics class during introductory seminar week in the small lecture theatre at Champlain. I thought of the many beers I consumed in the Ceilie and how much I loved going there. "I wish I could see it again." I thought. But the doors like many were locked. It was if the campus were saying to me. "Sandy, you can look and you can reminisce and you can feel like you have come back home, but some doors will remain locked to you, to remind you that this is not your place anymore. You have moved on and so has Trent, like the river beside it. Always moving, always flowing on. A new body of water washing through the campus. And like it, a new body of students floods Trent every year and in the end, they too move on." As I walked back to my room at LEC for the night, I could not help but feel proud to have attended such a beautiful place and such a great university that more than prepared me for my profession of influencing the lives of students. I will always remember you Trent, and I shall return like the cycle of water that covers the campus as a blanket of snow in winter, and washes into the Otonabee River in spring, and works its way through the campus, back into vapour and back again as a blanket of snow or rain. I think life is like that - a cycle. I look forward to my next trip back to Trent. Thank you for the memories. Dear Liz,
Dear Liz,
Dear Editor,
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