COLUMN: A tradition by any other name

From Marisa Katz's, "Ineluctable Modality of the Visible," Fall '98 From Marisa Katz's, "Ineluctable Modality of the Visible," Fall '98You're a freshman? Oh, so you live in the Quad?" "The what? I'm in Community House." But in the everyday lingo of members of the Class of 2002, the changes have already begun to register loud and clear -- enough so that there is now a communication gap between freshmen and upperclassmen. You see, unlike in previous years when incoming students received housing assignments that said something like "Butcher, Unrenovated Quadrangle," this year's new crop of students got letters over the summer welcoming them to Ware College House. Since the referent is the same, you may ask, "What's in a name?" Well, the stated intention of the college house system is to make students feel a part of small communities. At the same time, however, it's making them miss out on nearly 250 years of tradition. Perhaps this problem hits me especially because, reluctant as I often am to admit it, I'm an alumni child. My dad graduated pre-med in the Class of '68, and my mom was a psychology major in the Class of '69, College for Women (yet another name disbanded). The downside of being a legacy is that I've always felt I had to work that much harder to get here and stand out here on my own merit. But I really do enjoy talking with my parents about their Penn experience. And over the years, I've realized that in their stories, it's the names that give us the greatest connection. When they talk about Skimmer, their classes in Bennett Hall or their introductory psych course with Henry Gleitman, I can visualize exactly what they mean (though the story about their first kiss in front of Hill House is one I'd rather not picture). So it scares me a bit that in my own time here so many names have come and gone. The 3401 Walnut Street complex is now the Moravian Cafes. Superblock is Hamilton Village. High Rise North is Hamilton House. And Sansom Commons dropped an "s" to become Sansom Common. In the last three years, there's been a lot of change at Penn that is definitely for the best. The streets around campus are brighter and cleaner, there are more options for places to go late into the evening and even the college houses should provide students with better academic support. But as we admire the new buildings that spring up around us, we shouldn't forget that this place is also full of a lot of history. With the changes, we should try to preserve the traditions. This means, in part, passing on to our successors the stories behind the words. Freshmen should know that the Quad was built beginning in 1895 and provided the first student housing at the University. They should know that Hamilton Village was the Victorian neighborhood that was plowed over to make room for the high rises. They should know that we started throwing toast at football games when students were forced to come up with a different way to illustrate the lyrics to "Drink a Highball" after alcohol was banned from Franklin Field. And they should know that (despite the new PC lines to the "Red and Blue") Penn's colors come from a bet with Harvard and Yale -- we said we would take the colors of whichever track team we defeated, and then proceeded to outrun them both. Preserving Penn tradition also means preserving the traditional names whenever possible. When old structures are named after new donors, you lose a part of the past. The same is true when names are changed to reflect new programming. I'm all for changes that will make Penn an even better university. But something has to remain constant to connect future graduates with those of the past 250 years. I want to come back here in 30 years with my kids -- whether or not they go to Penn -- and not be surprised by new fight song lyrics. And when I ask some freshmen to meet me outside Houston Hall, they should know it first and foremost as the nation's oldest student center. I don't want to hear, "Oh, is that part of the Perelman Quad?"