Prospect 12

Firstly, while it is indeed right to say that somewhere between 5 a.m. and 7 a.m. is the witching hour for many Princetonians, the people we came across certainly do not keep the traditional college schedule. My first shock came when we arrived at the printers. I expected a few tired employees pointing us toward a stack of ‘Prince’s. But no, the place was bustling with activity, people seemingly oblivious to the fact that this was an absolutely ungodly hour. Of course I know of people who work the graveyard shift – many of my family on my mother’s side were and are bakers who work midnight to six in the morning –but I still could not help but marvel at peering into the absolutely different world they lived in. And, of course, this collision with different worlds had only just begun.

We began by delivering what ended up being about half of the newspapers the ‘Prince’ prints to Princeton-owned locations. Many of these go to where students see them every day: dining halls and other common areas. But a surprising number went to offices on campus I had never even heard of, some of which had vaguely administrative names, others of which were simply named for their addresses on Nassau or Alexander. To our readers in those far corners of the Princeton map — who I now know exist — I admit that I never have you in mind as my audience when writing. Princeton is an enormous and complex machine which extends far beyond the classes I go to and the buildings I live in.

I know this, but in the same way as I didn’t quite grasp the world of people who are up and working at 5 a.m. until I saw them, Princeton easily becomes for me a sort of black box from which I ask for classes and a place to live and things to eat, and it spits them out. It was a weird and humbling experience to watch all the people arriving at 7 a.m. who, directly or indirectly, work to better the place I call home. We turned the corner and arrived at Prospect Ave., where about a third of our papers would end up.

Delivering the papers to the eating clubs and Campus Club is what Nate affectionately called my “first Prospect 12.” It is a profoundly strange thing, to go in the service entry of a given club at 7:15 in the morning, greet the cleaning staff and place the papers by the doors. At that time they are all identical. They are all just buildings; they do not have a culture, cliques, passes or a feel. The clubs are simpler then, and this is the way the rest of the world driving by on their way to work sees them, as nothing more or less than mansions with a small staff and a stack of newspapers.

Finally, the rest of the papers went out as individual subscriptions to professors and administrators all over campus. And, although it would be nice to think they are all devoted readers of this column, my guess is that many of these individual subscribers feel that they have a vested interest in what goes on at this school and want to stay abreast of it. It is remarkable that these important people, many of whom are known and are relevant well beyond our campus, feel a sense of duty in reading Princeton’s daily news every morning. It reminded me that, no matter how lofty my goals are, how wide I want my reach to be, I will always be most influenced by those who live and work around me, that first and foremost I am part of a local community.

After we were done, I sat eating the largest omelet I had ever seen in Wu dining hall, looking on as students marched in for their morning ritual, absent-mindedly grabbing a copy of the ‘Prince’ from the table by the door. I looked at them with the feeling of superiority that I have all too often been the recipient of, the you-just-woke-up-I’ve-already-done-a-million-things-today look. And even as I was planning how late I was going to sleep in the next day, I knew that this experience had taught me something, though I wasn’t sure what. Other than the random musings here offered, the only thing I can be sure it taught me is the immeasurable value of waking up early one morning and looking at the world with a new set of eyes.

Luke Massa is a philosophy major from Ridley Park, Pa. He can be reached at lmassa@princeton.edu.