In a couple of weeks, I’ll be graduating early from Carleton. And in a few months, Laird as we know it will be totally different: renovated, changed for the better, with an elevator and new/existent air conditioning. For me, this feels like the perfect opportunity for some self-indulgent reflection on my time as an English major—and to share with everyone some pictures of the Second Laird we know and love.
My first ever class at Carleton was in this lovely room, Laird 211. As a fall term 4a, it was almost as hot as the fires of Hell and Pandemonium we were reading about in Paradise Lost. While the chairs near the windows offered a lovely view of the Bald Spot through the waving trees, I quickly learned the dangers of the infamous Laird Wasp (waspus lairdus). This pesky little species usually rests indolently on the warm whitewashed windowsills, but when you are confronted with the nearing whine of its buzzing wings, be sure to stay still—it’s easy to fall for the classic technique of desperate arm flailing, but such antics tend to anger the wasp and distract your overheated, sleepy classmates.
While I’ll miss all the courses I took in this room (and there were many), future classes will definitely benefit from the improved air conditioning planned in renovations (and hopefully some new window sealant as well).
If we walk out of 211 we’ll see a portrait of the person responsible for the second English class I took at Carleton: Narrative Lab, taught by visiting professor and author extraordinaire Jane Hamilton ’79 (on the left in the above photo). Narrative Lab was my favorite class that term and is still one of the best classes I’ve taken here, and it set me on course to be an English major and creative writing minor/comps-er.
Now, if you’ll follow me down the hall—
And up the stairs—
And through a narrow hallway whose ceiling has always been just a little too low for my tall body—
We’ll reach a lovely little lounge, home of two professors’ offices and a printer that I didn’t know existed until last year. One of those offices was also, as I recently discovered, once the home of the Psychology department’s rats (don’t think about that too much—it was decades ago, and I’m sure they were very clean rats). If you’re short, this cozy little attic’s slanted ceiling will make you feel at least three inches taller; if you’re tall and want to feel like a hunched giant, Third Laird is a great option for you as well. And no matter your size, this is a lovely place to curl up on a comfy couch and read a book in the combined warmth of sunlight and creaky radiator, unbothered by the distant chatter of students passing through on the floor below.
But my favorite place to read, and the part of Laird I will miss the most, is these velvety red wingback armchairs. They make me feel like a 19th century painting of a woman reading in an armchair—although I don’t think I’ve ever sat quite as stiffly and properly as a corseted Victorian lady.
Goodbye, armchairs, and my dreams of reading in period clothing. Goodbye, Laird. Goodbye, Miscellany! The real world awaits me and my fellow seniors. And for the rest of Second Laird’s students and faculty—good luck braving next year’s scattering of offices and classrooms. Though it may lose its rickety quaintness, Laird will be much improved by the renovations, and the Carleton English community will always hold strong no matter where the department is housed.
Love, your almost-alumni Miscellany co-editor,
Kathleen Danielson