Over-indulging in "O Week"

I’m usually quite refined, or at least I’d like to think so. All of you know me: I’m the planner, the safe kid, the early one. I’m the responsible 20 year-old (almost 21, despite its irrelevance here), the one who calls when I should, goes to (most) every class, eats healthy, and sends prompt birthday cards. “O Week” here at Janet Clarke Hall, though, has seemed to transform me into the type of 17 year-old Aussie “fresher” who has just arrived at Uni: eager, fresh-faced, and willing to please the upper-classmen. There’s just one problem: I am not a 17 year-old Australian child who has just been dropped off at JCH by Mum and Dad for their first week of college. I am a 20 (21!) year old American student, a third year in university at home...who has been treated like a 17 year old all week.

Popularly known as “O Week” (probably for legal reasons), this is merely a euphemism. Try “hazing,” try “hell,” try “a whole lot of obscene awkwardness” or perhaps try “the most grotesque fun I’ve ever had." As there are only two of us American students living in Janet Clarke Hall this semester, Shelly and I were required to go through the orientation (or initiation) into the college’s traditions by participating in O Week with all of the “freshers.” We were not given special status despite our third year level...in fact, Shelly and I are both OLDER than the leaders of O Week themselves. This age discrepancy made it more than difficult to comply when they demand we get down on our knees on a street corner outside of a pub, twirling fake lassos and shouting “YEEHAW!” O Week is meant to unite the incoming freshman class, to ban the barriers of awkwardness, to create hysterical and uncomfortable memories to serve as the building blocks of “fresher” fellowship for the next four years. The requirements of O Week are such things as serenading mannequins in busy shops, building human pyramids on the lawn of the State Library, stealing goods from fast food restaurants, begging outside of banks, waltzing with old men in bookstores, partaking in the compulsory and continuous chugging of myriad beverages, and the cherry on top: dancing our choreographed fresher dance to “Good Girls Go Bad” on the corner of Bourke and Swanston in central Melbourne. Of course, there are other (less illegal) activities for us to enjoy throughout the week, including a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream in the botanical gardens, Arvo (afternoon) tea on the rooftop, and ice skating.

All in all, it has been a spectacularly unique experience (although getting sprayed in the face with water guns for 30 minutes was less than ideal). I love my new Aussie friends despite the age gap-they are shockingly mature for their age, and I know it will be a great semester living with them here at JCH. I’m proud to say that I have successfully survived O Week thus far, although four more full days of proceedings are still upon me. The pub crawl tonight will be a true test of my strength (sorry Mom and Dad). Wish me luck!