The President’s Room, Woolsey Hall

One of my earliest quests was to find a place to study with minimal distraction. My room in Bingham was out for obvious reasons.  The small seminar rooms in Connecticut Hall offered some seclusion, but the wooden chairs had a brace that jabbed you in the back, and you never knew when some other guy(s) would come in and disturb your peace. You could go to L and B in Sterling Library, but the room’s comfy chairs and heating and ventilation anomalies often induced drowsiness until, inevitably, the bizarre behavior of some fellow denizen jolted you awake.

Toward the end of our first year I discovered the perfect spot. Somehow, while aimlessly exploring Woolsey Hall one day, I came across a place called the President’s Room. The door was unlocked and I peeked in. It was handsomely appointed and held a substantial conference table surrounded by cushioned chairs that didn’t jab you anywhere. I had found my lair. Repairing there several times over the next few weeks, I studied for exams and wrote term papers in splendid solitude, as I brought my freshman year to a close.

As sophomore year began, I was back at the room within a week. But the door was locked; indeed, I never found it unlocked again. I understand that you can now rent the space for events for a hefty fee, but I shall always remember the President’s Room as my sumptuous, if momentary, personal scholar’s cell.

Chuck Calhoun