Recently I received some literature from my alma mater. Who knows what it said but it included what all college literature seems to include a solicitation envelope.

I never donate money to any of the colleges I attended for several reasons. The first being, I guess, because I still owe money on my college loans. It s hard to be generous when you re still paying for your education, plus interest.

The second reason is that I didn t really enjoy my experience there and can t imagine sending money to help others have similar experiences to the one I had.

Let me give you an example. I haven t actually thought of this in years, but it came up in conversation this weekend.

When I applied to Smith, I got all sorts of literature on the house life. How I could expect to live in a turn of the century building with other women serious about their education. Needless to say, it wasn t exactly like that. I was moved to a dormitory built in 1955 when modular was in. Most of the rooms are single, but they re about 7 square. It was a building for mostly transfer, visiting, and foreign students. Not exactly an integration into campus life. The downside each room adjoins another with a pocket door and a thin wall between each. With my roommate, I wasn t very lucky. I lived next door to a young freshman who was determined to find a boyfriend (yes, it was an all women s college), play loud music, and amass a shoe collection rivaling Imelda Marcos.

Studying was not in her college plan and I suffered for it. Loud music all day and night. Loud parties with all sorts of men. I was looking for a change. The college s response lighten up. College was for socializing and having fun. Who was I to focus on my studies?

I m a bit of a loudmouth so I complained, and complained, and saw the Dean, and complained, and had my mother complain and I got to move on my birthday no less. My next room a maid s room next to the kitchen in Tyler House. The room hadn t been used for years and all sorts of junk had to be moved out of it. The kitchen staff arrived between five and six o clock in the morning so I was up with the birds, pots clanging, and the cook s morning chatter. I had no nearby bathroom or shower, and regularly heard clomping by my room by students with laundry on their way to the basement.

You see, I won that battle but lost that war. So when my mailbox is stuffed with This Is About Smith materials I m not too interested in opening my pocketbook.

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