The sound of a nearby band filters through the open fourth-story window of McClain Hall. An Audiovox stereo system is balanced on the window sill, but it is silent. Instead, a stereo blares pop music from another open window.
The room is sweltering and stuffy; late-summer sunshine floods through the window.
Half of the tiny residence hall room is bare, without pillows or blankets on the bed or papers on the desktop. The other half is occupied, but neat and tidy. Clothes hang in the closet, the bed is made, and a row of books — including a Merriam-Webster dictionary and a copy of “Wuthering Heights” — is lined up neatly on the shelf.
Jennifer French, an 18-year-old who rarely smiles, sits at a desk crammed between the window and the foot of the bed. Her mother, Mary, reads a book on the bed.
It is Sept. 25, French’s first day at college and only her second day on the University campus. The residence halls buzz with activity: doors are propped open and groups of students pour in and out. A father and daughter wander with bags of clothes and other belongings in their arms. Booths line the walkways east of Agate Street, near Hamilton Complex, where students petition passersby to recruit them for the greek community, Club Sports and other groups and causes.
Noise from the walkways drifts into the room where French sits, quietly.
The Beaverton native is a little nervous. She hasn’t met her roommate yet.
“I’ve talked to her a couple of times online,” she says. “I’ve never actually met her in person. You hear horror stories (about roommates), but it’s more that I’m afraid I’ll be that bad roommate.
“From what I’ve heard about her, she’s really into music. She plays a couple of instruments. So, she’ll have talent.”
“We hope,” her mom jokes.
Apprehension about school
The night before she left home for Eugene, French had a nightmare: She failed a class.
“I walked into the class and the teacher pointed at me and said I got an ‘F’ for no reason,” she says, adding that the teacher accused her of missing all of her classes and failing all of her tests.
French is a little nervous she won’t be able to handle the 15-credit course load she has registered for. Mostly, she’s worried she won’t have enough time to do well in class. School is important to her. She was always a good student in high school, she reiterates.
Beyond school, French also wants to find a job. She hopes to work at a library, where she can do work she is familiar with. French says she reads too much, gobbling everything from classics to science fiction to murder mysteries and horror fantasies. But in a few days she will be trading all of those for chemistry books — she’s registered for three chemistry classes this term.
But French says she’s excited, too, hoping that her classes will be more in-depth than they were in high school. And she is hoping that she won’t have to listen to stupid questions anymore.
“There was a girl in my social studies class last year, she asked if the 13 original colonies ever got out of British control,” she says with disgust.
Meeting the roommate
French and her mother plod up the gray, concrete stairwell in McClain Hall until they reach the fourth floor. They enter the hallway and walk to the fourth door on the right. French slips the key in, turns it and pushes the door open.
“Oh,” they say.
The second bed, earlier empty and cold, is covered in bags of clothes and toiletries. A blue Adidas bag sits on the middle of the bed. French has heard her roommate is athletic and had been a cheerleader in high school. Next to the bag is a purple plastic basket full of lotions, hair products and cleaners.
A television sits on the desk. But no roommate.
They enter the dark room, sit down, and talk.
Soon, two girls come down the hallway chatting. Girls have been coming and going for days, moving in and exploring the complex. But, suddenly, one of the girls sticks her head around the corner.
“She’s here!” the girl yells, grinning. It is Michele Taylor, the roommate.
Taylor enters the room and gives French a hug, introducing herself. She meets French’s mom, extending a hand, and then introduces her friend Tiphani Handy, who lives on the third floor. They sit down on the bed and exchange pleasantries, talking about their trips and the process of moving in. Taylor jokes that her boyfriend was “nowhere to be found” when she moved her belongings upstairs.
“Those are cute shoes!” Taylor bursts out.
“They’ll kill your feet, though,” French responds.
“Life as a girl,” Taylor says.
They both grin and nod.
Taylor is an 18-year-old from Gresham. She graduated from Sam Barlow High School last year and decided to attend the University to study music.
“It’s so exciting,” she says. “I watched my sister go through college. I think a lot of people come here and it’s overwhelming. It’s not scary; it’s exciting.”
Like French, Taylor plans to find a job at the University — any job. Also, she is thrilled about her classes, and hopes they will be more “sophisticated” than they were in high school.
Unlike her roommate, Taylor knows people at the University. Her boyfriend, Aaron Longo, also attends the University. Her best friend lives downstairs, and she has friends to go out with on weekends. Last weekend they took her to her first Duck game.
“I had fun, except that I got burnt and we lost,” she says.
Familiar faces
The weekend before classes started, French says she began feeling homesick.
Saturday night she was in her room, bored, when she says she received a phone call. It was her friend Joe Eriksen from Beaverton, asking if she wanted to hang out.
French recalls confusion, but she ended up saying she did.
“Good, we’re all downstairs,” French remembers Eriksen saying.
French says she was surprised.
“I went downstairs, and it’s everybody that’s ever been to Aloha High School. … I didn’t even know they were coming here,” French says. “I knew he was hanging out with a couple of people from Aloha. I stepped out the door and there were eight people down there.”
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