Being a semi-frequent visitor to our beautiful campus, I have recently been unable to avoid the startlingly outstanding presence of progress. Actually, what I initially noticed were the signs positioned outside of construction areas. The signs read, “Pardon our progress.”
Although I think the signs are a little bit presumptuous (the obvious implication being that I’m some sort of counter-culture deviant that has a problem with progress-yeah right), I do applaud the initiative. Or at least the strategy.
If Mississippi State is going to keep up with the times, it’s imperative that our facilities are of the highest quality. While I am not doubting the importance of a potential university’s curriculum, faculty or prestige on the decision-making process of the average high school senior (nor am I disparaging said qualities at Mississippi State), I do think that setting is something that is often over-emphasized by incomers.
Even if the buildings that are being removed, renovated or rebuilt had not yet reached obsolescence, the average student is more concerned with the visual appeal or simplicity provided by the construction. It seems counter-intuitive, but that’s just how the kids are these days. The whole concept is kind of analogous to my perspective on ladies, if you will.
And even though it might seem wasteful to spend so much money on the addition or replacement of so many campus edifices, the result (hopefully) is a larger, more content student body. People are drawn to an attractive, unique campus, and the school must continue to improve itself if it hopes to satisfy. Perhaps this is because as a culture, we are more often concerned with what we want rather than what we need, which we take for granted. Possibly like ladies. I’m not sure if the analogy extends that far.
Take, for instance, Barnes & Noble. Although there were already a few similar, smaller outlets on or near campus, the addition of such a highly recognizable, successful enterprise sparks interest. It sparked mine, at least. I must say that I rarely ventured into the older, less prominent stores, but now I spend a significant amount of my free time in Barnes & Noble. And I don’t even read books; there’s an escalator inside, you know.
The only problem with such a strategy is the stopping point. When does the campus stop growing? Of course, there will always be a need for renovation or rebuilding, but when do we curb the additions? To be honest, this is a problem of the distant future, and I don’t think that it should be anyone’s concern right now. However, I will offer an educated guess as to when the stopping point must definitely occur: the year 2100, approximately.
So next time you’re walking around campus, annoyed or enraged at the seemingly endless construction that surrounds you, keep in mind that it’s necessary for the growth of our school. Although you might have to endure minor hassle, the result provides the allure that keeps Mississippi State competitive with similar universities. Except for that Barnes & Noble, of course, which I think we can all agree is just a little bit outdated. Archaic, even.