Dear Reader,
The woes of one particularly new freshman are, I am sure, not considerably viable to the grand importance of your section. Alone, freshmen are just a portion of the accumulative body of students, and even then my concerns are a speck in the world of proportion. However, I also believe that the issue I am about to address does not only apply to freshman, but to all those who are constantly squatting on university floors. And so, going against the suitable shy nature of myself, I speak out to aisle-sitters. True, the matter is to be of little consequence to one busy student and is therefore a prompt to publicize the matter.
Personal circumstances allow me ten minutes from class to class. Rushing from one side of campus to the other and veering in and out of the sauntering crowd I still find myself subject to the unfortunate laws of physics. I find myself stressing to know if the seat in which I must preside will be in the middle. The middle of the row. The token empty chair which no bottom is employing, but instead the one sees the view of an empty seat, armrest extended and the books of one soul person now inhabiting two spaces. I hastily realize with red cheeks that I am the only person standing in the room full of on lookers. Excess blood flowing in the apples of the face, do not deprive me of knowing my best chance at escaping this embarrassment is to quickly find a seat on the trodden floor. The lovely floor where if shoes could talk they would inform of the spider remains from earlier this morning, the bathroom germs from their recent trip, or even their sticky encounter with bubblicious. The shoes can’t tell the story, but my hands could after the first few minutes of lecture. New at college, and the worry of finding a seat is the biggest priority, when it should be actual education.
The small infraction of the Brigham Young University students is indeed the fickle matter of sitting on the edges of rows. Viewing the temptation of aisle sitting, one can imagine; coming to class, having walked so far, backpack pulling on shoulders, cute mate of the appropriate sex just entered, one realizes they forgot to put the milk away, and the nearest seat is spotted. Plop! The small seemingly inconsequential decision is made. Understandable, I have had the moments of exhaustion and defeat. And honestly, I can say, in the grand spectrum of things, picking an aisle seat was of little consequence to you. But perhaps to the young man who is standing awkwardly scanning the room, looking for a seat, and wondering how many people will be staring at his five minute journey to the middle of the row, it will not seem so unimportant.
Or perhaps an aisle-sitter is shy. One would not want to sit too close to the boy which your emotions flitter beside. Or one would not want to sit next to the brainy student, who might see your notes and judge you ignorant. Whatever the case, I understand shyness, as I was the girl who rather endured spider-gut hands in opposition to climbing over people for a seat. I am in total sympathy that some situations are hard for us to face. My sympathy extends, until of course the class fills up, and you are surrounded by people that you were avoiding anyway. Only these people had to tip-toe climb over your books, scale the hurdles of backpacks, and shimmy across your blushing face as their heretical hind side is in your face. Embarrassing for both you and the acrobat.
Another explanation brought to mind is the fact that end seats on the left side are designed for left-handed writers. Again a plausible point, I cannot argue, seeing as I am not left-handed. This brings about the question of how many left-handers are there at Brigham Young University. If there are a large number, it is fact that not all of you are going to get an aisle seat. And some of you may be the competitive, “my comfort is better than your comfort” type. If so, a few suggestions; perhaps you would stake out your aisle seat in advance, claim it and then stand at the end of the row and allow everyone to filter in as the seat inventors imagined.
Whatever the explanation, this is not meant to condemn, only to address. The University we are all so privileged to attend is founded on principles of love and compassion Given this outstanding reputation all of who attend are bound to, could a small act of compassion be granted? Since we were children, or perhaps even adolescence, we have been taught the “Golden Rule”. Do unto others as you would have others do to you. The rule does not state that those with gold make the rules. It doesn’t suggest that finders are keepers and losers weepers. Nor does it suggest first come first serve. The rule is given to us to help our brothers and sisters in all times. The actual chore of finding a seat is not large; many could say that it is an everyday occurrence that we should get used to. Perhaps the same attitude will occur when someone drops their stack of papers, or can’t find their classroom, or has their hands full at a door. There will be instances in the future when I am sure you can perform a grand task lighten someone's load. But today you can perform a small task of service, by perhaps just by giving up a prized seat. And that is a lesson carried far beyond the classroom.
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