Will You Light My Candle?

I was given a truly amazing opportunity to commune with my fellow students and be a representative for my sophomore class by lighting the sophomore candle at the Barnard Convocation for the Class of 2010. For those of you who didn't go through some type of convocation during their orientation at college, it's basically an opportunity for administrators to prove that they're real people and not just a title to the students, and for all the students to be gathered together under the same roof (or in our case, gathered under a beautiful setup of lights and draped fabric that took about three hours, twenty people, and a lot of coffee to construct).

After a long day of helping first-years get moved into their doubles in the quad (in the pouring, humid rain, I might add), stuffing bags with programs and stuffed Barnard Bears for convocation, and frantically trying to memorize my lines for my College Night performance, I was ready for some meditation and communion with my fellow Barnard women that I have come to know and love, as well as the newest class to enter the iron gates at 115th and Broadway.

During bag stuffing, Danielle, who planned Convocation, asked Kate, Megan, and I to practice using the lighter we would be using to light our respective candles during the ceremony. It's the same kind I use at home to light the barbecue with, so I lit it with ease. I was so excited to be a part of this tradition - it was all really happening.

I sat through the ceremony, watched the alumni slideshow, and took it all in. I even teared up during Andi Grossman's speech, a graduate of 2006.

As Andi asked the Class of 2010, "What will your next four years mean for you?" I walked up to the candles set up on stage with Kate and Megan. Kate lit her candle as a representative for the senior class, Megan lit hers for the juniors, and after her wick was aflame, she handed me the lighter.

It was time. I lit the lighter, but nothing was happening. I tried again. As I was frantically trying to the light the green candle in front of me, my hands started to sweat, making the whole "spin and push" action required to make the lighter function all the more impossible.

Thirty seconds passed. I still could not break the genius code that guarded the key to unlocking this seemingly archaic device.

I finally caved the giggling in the audience among the freshman and peers was deafening. As was the thunderous applause I incurred when I lit the sophomore candle with the flame from the junior candle. You would think I had just won the Special Olympics.

Mortified. I can make the Dean's List, but I can't light a candle. Nice.