10,000 Men of... Where?

It's that time of year again. The weather is brisk; the Yard is filled with crimson-clad alumni; and the streets are jammed with the onslaught of visitors. Energized by the fiery and historic competition and hoping for another exciting victory--go Harvard, go!--I start to hum some Harvard "fight" songs as I walk along Plympton Street towards the river. "Ten thousand men of Harvard," I begin, noting with chagrin the odd looks I get from random passers-by and fellow Harvard students. Subdued, but only slightly, I continue, "want victory today."

Pause. "Want victory?" That doesn't sound exactly right. "Well, whatever," I say to myself. "What's a word here or there, anyway?" and, re-assured, prepare to continue.

Pause. "What are the rest of the words?" In consternation and frustration, I belt out "blah, blah, blah, blah, o'er Eli hold sway." Panicked, I realize that I do not know the words to Harvard's favorite cheer. Who am I kidding: not only do I not know some of the words; I can't even get through the first verse.

I consider myself a strong proponent of Harvard. As much as I was tempted by the name, I ultimately decided to enroll at Harvard because I fell in love with the campus and met some interesting, fun, exciting people during my visit. I am involved in campus life and extol Harvard's virtues to prospectives and Harvard affiliates, alike. Basically, I was ripe for knowing the words to "Ten Thousand Men." So why didn't I?

I'll take the majority of the responsibility. At some point in the past nearly two and a half years, I just should have sat down and learned the song. But I'd like to think that my own inadequacy is not the sole cause of this problem. Most of my friends (and I took an unofficial poll) aren't sure of the all the words, except for a guy I know in the band--and he had to learn it.

Harvard, I am embarrassed to admit, is sorely lacking in school spirit. Although the stadium's bleachers are always filled for today's historic game, during the rest of the season it is not unusual for the visiting team to bring more fans than ol' Harvard can muster up. And when the topic of Harvard comes up in casual conversation, people are as likely to castigate some element of the Harvard experience as to speak enthusiastically about their future alma mater.

This indifference is particularly apparent around Harvard-Yale weekend--and not merely because I find myself mumbling the words of Harvard's fight songs. My friends from Yale (sorry little souls) converge on this campus nearly bursting with Yale spirit, singing Yale cheers long beyond it is medically encouraged or melodically appreciated.

Jennifer T. Tattenbaum '98 hit on one cause of our Harv-apathy. Sardonically, Tattenbaum explained: "I think Yale people have a lot more spirit...because they feel inferior and therefore need to cheer more. We know we are better and don't have the inferiority complex which results in intense school spirit." Underlying Tattenbaum's justification is an incredibly discerning observation about the Harvard psyche. Most of us are acutely aware of the stereotypes about Harvard haughtiness and, as a result, learned early on to tone down our Harvard enthusiasm. (Sound familiar? "Where do you go to school?" "Uh, a small liberal arts college in Boston.") Cheering for Harvard seems snotty, even obnoxious, and somewhat condescending.

There is another component to our disinterest. Many people who choose to come to Harvard do so not out of a passion for the school or an intense desire to be in Cambridge, but because of the usefulness of Harvard's name emblazoned on their resume. Harvard is among the ultimate door-openers, and many of our fellow Harvardians are using Harvard for just that reason. Their excitement about the school itself, consequently, hovers around nonexistent.

Perhaps this is a moment (an isolated one, to be sure) when we can learn from our Yale counterparts how to be exhilarated about our school without being arrogant, proud without being prideful. After all, it's much more fun to know the words.

Talia Milgrom-Elcott's column appears on alternate Saturdays.