Amidst the maze-like halls of Aubrey R. Watzek Library lies a room hidden to the casual passersby, neatly tucked into a corner behind two glass doors and a brick wall. The windows are cloaked by curtains and locks on the doors allow only those deemed worthy to pass. What room is this you say? Why, it’s Room 345: the covert lair of the Pamplin Society.

When, on a campus as small as Lewis & Clark’s, seven individuals are annually singled out from their peers, you know something’s up. The Pamplin Society, an undergraduate honor society and the highest form of prestige bestowed by the College on its students, was founded at LC in 1993. Membership is extended to seven students each year as they begin their second year at the College. Now in its thirteenth academic year, the Society’s total membership stands at 115; although during the semester with students abroad, the Society usually boasts 15 active members.

Akin to taking a tour of the Hollywood Hills, I was interested in seeing how the Society lived. To me, the Pamplin Room was shrouded in mystique with only numerous rumors about what it could really be like percolating through my head. Some of the best rumors that I had heard were that they had a hot tub; another said a big screen TV.

At first, I searched for non-Fellows that had somehow been blessed enough see the room. Leigh Halverson (’06), who gained access through a Pamplin member she was seeing, described Room 345 as “f-in’ amazing in there.”

However amazing it may be, the actuality I found was less than the rumors; it turns out that there’s no hot tub, no big screen TV, and sometimes, even no students.

“Really, the Pamplin Room is just always empty,” said Pamplin Fellow Linnaea Schuttner (’06).

“What’s great is that you can move the furniture around and take the mats off the benches – I slept in here during Finals for four days last year. You can bring food up and no one notices and sometimes there’s even coffee in here for us,” she said.

The Pamplin Room embraces a specific theme: class in a fancy, prix fixe manner. With a beautiful, large wooden table in the center of the room surrounded by sixteen leather chairs, the ambience is straight out of a penthouse suite. Behind the table stands large windows that bring in copious amounts of natural light on one side, and a grandiose portrait of Dr. Robert B. Pamplin, Jr., the founder of the Society, juxtaposed above an immense and roaring fireplace.

While I was in there, Loring Veenstra (’06), an Economics and Political Science double major was hard at work. When I shared my thoughts on the room, Loring seemed unphased, as if to say that this was in fact a place for work, not for fun and games. Admitedly, there were no magazines, only academic journals; but if you really wanted to cut loose, they did have the Genius Edition of Trivial Pursuit. Figures.
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by Craig Beebe

That means forgoing other things I could write about this week, like the experience of going home for Easter to find snow, antiques, and a museum exhibit devoted entirely to old printing presses in a small town just up the road. Or the Senior Speaker debaucle from last Thursday. There are so many things that happened in the past week that might have made an excellent colum, but I feel obliged to pass these topics up for now.

Yes, I should have something important and noteworthy to say. If only I could think of what that might be.

These are strange days for us seniors. A complicated mix of emotions—the joy and excitement of finishing, the dread and fear of being jobless and simply drifting, and the regrets, hopes, and pride in what we have finished—fill up each day. I’m sure I’m not the only one overwhelmed by this cacophony of feelings, and luckily there are enough tasks yet to be accomplished that it only hits me a few times a day, like when I am lying awake in bed, wondering just what to make of it all.

It is a strange form of senioritis that is taking me over right now. I hesitate to use that word because it usually implies simple impatience to get to graduation and leave. Although that desire is part of what I am now feeling, this particular strain of senioritis seems much more complex. Not only am I impatient to be finished, but I am suddenly frightened that I’m not sure what my graduation really means. I know it hasn’t been meaningless—of course I am aware that I am more in touch with my world than I have ever been, and I have developed valuable friendships and a commitment to learning—but I’m not sure what earning my degree is going to do for me now. I have finished all my credits, I have jumped through all the hoops…but now what? I know that I have some loans to pay off, and graduate school is somewhere off in the hazy horizon, but what is the real, immediate outcome of earning my college degree?

Anytime we finish some great task that has involved hours of planning and work—be it getting a degree, writing a thesis, building a house, or painting a wall—there is a certain and inevitable letdown, perhaps followed or preceded by moments of great joy. Well, now what? The house is built, the thesis is bound. Yes, I made a few mistakes here and there—perhaps the drywall was not properly installed, or there’s a period missing on page 77—but the thing is done. I can see it, I can feel it, I can reflect on the work that went into it. But what is it worth beyond that? What can it do for me now?

The most terrible thing about the senioritis which is currently afflicting me is that it involves this very question. What now? Do I put this degree on the wall, dust it occasionally, and get right to work to make the money to pay off those loans? Do I use it simply as a credential, to get a job or find a good graduate school? It seems that no matter how I use this degree, I cheapen it somewhat. I deny, at least partially, the hard work, the achievements, the friendships, the struggles—everything that happened while I was a student at LC. At best, the degree becomes a partial representation of something that I did once. But it never adequately reflects a life lived, here at this campus, over the past four years. How can I reconcile that?

Perhaps I can’t. And maybe I’m not supposed to. So maybe this senioritis can only be partially cured, and somewhere always will be lurking these other questions. I suppose they will afflict me again and again, wherever I go and whatever I do. Earning a bachelor’s degree is not the first thing I have worked this hard at, and it will not be the last. Answering these questions doesn’t get any easier.

So perhaps I should just reflect on things I meant to do while writing this column, but never found the time: riding that Willamette Shore Trolley, visiting every independent movie theatre in town, attending a Trailblazers game. Perhaps I should make predictions for the future, or offer those words of advice that would make life more fruitful for future seniors.

But I just don’t have much to say about those things right now. I am a graduating college senior, lucky enough to have had an excellent education at a fine school. But I am frightened that I don’t know what that means, or how to make the best use of it.

I also know that the world desperately needs us to make decisions that will make good use of what we have learned. As I travel on, then, I will try to keep this motivation in mind. Whatever happens, this degree—and consequently, these four years at LC—will not be wasted, so long as I don’t let them be. If every step forward considers every step already taken, and every lesson already learned, the logical progression is one that hopefully creates good in the world.

Ultimately, a college degree is just a piece of paper, just as a house is a collection of wood and nails and insulation. But if we appreciate the experience of creating that degree or house, and we value and remember it fully, then we can properly appreciate its continuing value and apply the building process to future endeavors. And then, only then, can we live in it.

Congratulations to all those graduating, and best of luck to those whose big day must wait. Together, we have built and are building our degrees through our experiences here. May we all find a way to live in them for the rest of our lives.

And along the way, find time to lose yourself, get distracted. You’ll be glad that you did.
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by Nick Bjork

This summer, Lewis & Clark students may find navigating the oft-bustling bookstore to be a thing of the past. Students will no longer have to comb the shelves in search of their required text. After many years of student criticism, the bookstore has posted textbook information on its website.

In a letter to the Pioneer Log, LC student and bookstore employee Scott Devlin (‘07) said the online textbook lists are another way that Barnes & Noble College Booksellers, Inc., has been making shopping at the bookstore more convenient for students and faculty. The company has been managing the day-to-day operations of since the mid-1980s.

For students who prefer to shop at less expensive online websites or bookstores, the LC bookstore now offers the convenience of finding booklists online, without requiring students to obtain them at the store itself.

The bookstore has been receiving suggestions to make book lists available for years, but apparently lacked the capability to do so. “The software necessary to publish this information was not available to our bookstore,” Devlin said. “While powerful software to manage textbook ordering and sales has been present for several years, we have lacked the necessary communication equipment to export this data and make it available to our customers.”

“We at the bookstore have desired for some time to provide this information to our customers. Now, with the arrival of the 2006 Summer Sessions and the 2006-2007 academic year, we are pleased to announce that this dream has, in fact, become a reality,” Devlin continued.

According to Devlin, new updates in technology has allowed the bookstore website to “reflect the new era of online shopping and service delivery.” With any major credit card, a Barnes & Noble Gift Card, or the combination of the two, a few clicks of the mouse can now be substituted for an hour wait in line.

Under the new system, students can preorder books for a particular class, even if the professor has not yet submitted a book order, and receive notification when the books are available and when they arrive in the store. According to Devlin, the bookstore will deliver the books for a “nominal fee.”

“Alternatively, if the professor has noted that no book is required for the class, you will be informed this by the system,” Devlin said.

The bookstore and its staff are looking for feedback on the new system as students become acquainted with it. The booklists can be accessed and feedback can be given at www.lclark.bkstore.com. Devlin also mentioned that students are encouraged to give in-store feedback as well.

Kevin Stark contributed to this article.
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Every day, we members of the Lewis & Clark community walk in and out of academic and residence buildings. Howard, Templeton, Copeland, Odell, Stuart, Akin. Ever wonder who all of these buildings are named after?

The majority of them have been named in honor of some of LC’s most generous trustees and administrators who have given their time, dedication, and support to help in the continuting development and fostering of the College. Here are the backgrounds of some of the most prominent buildings on campus.

Templeton Student Center
The college’s student center was named for the Templeton family. Herbert A. Templeton was a generous trustee of the college, and his family gave a hefty contribution to help complete the building in 1958. Originally, the plan was to leave the lower level of Templeton unfinished until a later date, but Templeton wished for the entire building to be completed for student use and enjoyment. Daughter Jane Templeton Bryson is a life trustee, and the reading room in the south wing of Watzek Library is named for Bryson and her husband James.

Howard Hall
Lewis & Clark’s newest academic building, Howard Hall, was named after John R. Howard, who was the second president to reside in this location on Palatine Hill-- the college was originally founded in Albany in 1867; Howard served as president from 1960 to 1981. Howard is also a life trustee and a steward of the social sciences, and so the building was dedicated last April to house many of college’s social science offerings. These include Environmental Studies, Sociology, Anthropology, Political Science, Political Economy, Religious Studies, Philosophy, International Affairs, Economics, Communication, and Gender Studies.

Stewart, Akin, and Odell Halls
The SOA dorms were the first to be built on the Fir Acres campus, and all of them housed women only. Akin Hall was the first, named for Dr. Otis Aiken and his wife Dr. Mabel Aiken in 1949. The faculty and trustees of the college believed it important for at least half of the students to live on campus.

As there were more housing applicants than spaces available, Stewart Hall was built in 1951, named for Cora Irvine Stewart. Daughter of Dr. S.G. Irvine, one of the college founders, she was part of the first graduating class of Albany College in 1873, and all seven of her children attended the college as well. Odell was built as an addition to Stewart in 1956, and it was named for Ruth Odell, wife of then president Morgan Odell.

Platt-Howard Hall
The other Howard on campus is named for Dr. Charles Howard, dean of the college from 1944 to 1958 and vice president from 1958 to 1963. Half of the dormitory complex was named for this Howard as an addition to Platt Hall, which was named for Clemmer Platt, trustee since 1932 and secretary to the Board of Trustees for 28 years. Platt Hall was the first residence hall intended for males. The residence complex was finished in 1960 as a men’s dorm with social rooms for fraternities.

Copeland Hall
Joseph and Helen Copeland are the namesakes of LC’s Eastenmost dormitory. Helen was president of the Women’s League of LC, and Joseph was a lumber executive and life trustee; both were generous givers and friends of the college.

Built in 1963 and dedicated to the Copelands in 1964, the residence hall was intended for both living and learning. Current upperclassmen may recall classes held in Copeland prior to the construction of J.R. Howard Hall. It was built in an “apartment” style with carpeting, kitchens, and lounges on each floor; despite current conceptions of Copeland, it was at the time the envy of all other dorms.

There is a story behind all of the dormitories, academic halls, facilities, and even individual rooms within the buildings, even the ones not featured here. The contributions from alumni and trustees has allowed for their completion and for our enjoyment.

To find out more about the alumni and contributers, contact http://www.lckark.edu~alumni.
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by Rachel Schiff

Finals are fast approaching--too fast for most of us. The question of most of our minds is, What should we expect? Naturally, it varies from professor to professor. Here’s a rundown of Lewis & Clark’s hardest--and easiest--finals.

Physics Professor Tom Olson gives his students two finals- a multiple choice test taken with the class and a one-problem test taken with him, one-on-one in an empty classroom. “He gives us a complex problem to do on the board. Without any materials, we must use memorized formulas and background information to solve the problem,” explained Rowena Held (’08) who took Olson’s Electricity and Magnetism class last year.

“It is supposed to take one hour, but it usually takes more than two. We have to stay until we get it, so he gives hints if you are really stuck. The question is the same for everyone, so he relies on the honor code. Last year we had to design a cyclotron,” Held reported.

Jason Simms (’06) also braved a one-on-one final, but of a literary nature. “For Professor James Soderholm’s Censored Literature final, each of us--there were only 6 in the class--walked with him for an hour in the woods discussing literature,” remembered Simms.

“He just judged our ability to hold a one-on-one discussion about what we had read that semester.”

Simms took a final of a very different nature with Spanish Professor Juan Carlos Toledano-Redondo. “When I asked him what would be on the final, he said ‘everything,’ so I spent about 20 hours studying everything we had learned. Only two of those hours were applicable to the test,” reflected Simms.

Preparation is important in all finals. Especially for those given by Religious Studies Professor Robert Kugler, “My Old Testament final was the hardest I’ve ever taken. There were no tricks on it. You just had to know everything,” said Colleen Marion (’08).
For Sam Stigler (’08), Computer Science Professor John Fiskio Lassetter’s CS-172 final proved the hardest he’d ever taken. “He e-mailed us a lot of really hard programming questions. They were like brain teasers, very confusing. The programming was the easy part. It was the most difficult final I’ve even taken, even though it was a take-home test.”

Corey Smith (’09) found physical triumph in the difficult Walking and Jogging final, a timed mile. “After walking every class, I jogged the final, even sprinting the last straightaway. I challenged myself and beat an opponent by several seconds. It was an intense final.”

Good luck on your finals, whether they ask you to outrun a competitor, face a professor in an empty room, or simply study.
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