Moving from the security and comfort of a small rural community to an exploding college campus could have been intimidating. Certainly I was no longer the big fish in a little pond. The front lines of the Baby Boomers were marching off to campus, and few colleges were prepared to handle the charge.
Like most universities, BGSU was stretched far beyond its maximum capacity. Dorms were overcrowded. Freshman classes were huge, often in large lecture halls of several hundred students.
When I showed up at my assigned room in Rogers Hall, three roommates were already there. We shared two sets of bunk beds, two small closets, two built-in desks, and two small dressers. Fortunately, I didn’t have a very large wardrobe.
All four were uniquely different guys, two from the Cleveland area, and two from small rural communities. One of the big city guys flunked out at the end of the first semester. Dave Patterson, survived and thrived, eventually earning his doctorate. I made it though the first year with decent grades, though nothing stellar.
I am not sure how it evolved, but I always abhorred procrastinating. I did each day’s assignment, periodically reviewed my notes, and almost never crammed. It just seemed natural to me – like brushing your teeth. I do recall the dismay of my roommates who were cramming frantically during final’s week, while I was playing basketball an hour or two every day.
As I settled into my dorm in September of 1964, the thought that 26 years of my life would be spent wandering this campus, as a student, graduate student, then as a professor, would been branded a bizarre fantasy.