So you’ve finished your first real semester at Whitman — have you checked all the boxes?

Lee Thomas

You can only call yourself a true Whittie once you’ve crossed out every item on this Whitman bucket list:


Climbed atop Styx:

Giddy-up horsey. The first thing you wanted to do upon your campus arrival was saddle that guy. Only to learn the hard way via crotch-impacting-metal that he’s not made of real wood. 


Been shamed into rock climbing:

So you guys didn’t get Scrambles or SCORES, and consequently “missed out” on a week of scaling boulders for the first time with other sweaty Whitman freshies. This meant your roommate was floored when she found out you’d never done it before. “But it’s what all Whittie’s do!” You didn’t realize being a Whittie meant shelling out for equipment rentals every time your friends wanted to “work out in a way that doesn’t feel like you’re working out!” 


Purchased Whitman-brand shoes:

You never owned a pair of Birk slides or Chacos sandals or Blundstone boots before stepping onto campus. Now you’ve invested in at least one, if not all, of these footwear companies. Bonus points if you were harassed for getting real leather Birkenstocks. 


Complained about Cleveland Commons on a daily basis:

Our beautiful, relatively new dining hall is one that trumps the rest of the nation’s college’s pig troughs. With gourmet meals and fancy seating areas, you’d think you were in a real restaurant, not a college cafeteria. But god damn do they use a lot of tofu. There are more beans than just soybeans in our natural world, you know. And restaurant-like status also brings with it the consequence of restaurant-like prices. Last time I paid eight bucks for a smoothie was … actually, I don’t think I ever have. At least our friends at the café put so much love into their concoctions that you can taste it. 


Taken a sunset pic in the wheat fields:

Were you really in Walla Walla if you didn’t stomp around the wheat fields, damaging someone’s livelihood, sending pictures to your Seattle friends to brag about how no stupid Space Needle can dare compare to the miles upon flat miles of grain and dirt?


Developed the skill of silent crying:

Thanks to having a roommate, as well as the Allen Reading Room’s strict laws of silence, you’ve mastered the talent of stifling your study-induced sobs after weeks of practice. Take slow, deep breaths … rub your eyes as if you’re tired and not spontaneously weeping over an exam, or look to the ceiling to let them drain from your eyelids to your ears … wearing glasses works as a floodgate (and you lucky freshies get the added assistance of masks to mask the roaring rivers of stress. We didn’t have that tool during our learning curve days!) … keep tissues so you don’t have to sniff, you can just wipe … You may as well declare your major in theatre right now!