Stratton’s Cinderella
To my favorite study spot, the origin of my journalism, and boba and pianos
Jada Ogueh–The Tech
To: Floor 4 of the Stratton Student Center
I felt like a young deer, shivering with curiosity and a bit of fright, knees clacking together, when I first saw you. [1] You peered at me, blankly, as the elevator opened to Stud 4. You were so silent and still, save for the perfume of a classical piano remix of some pop song wafting. I waded through you like sludge, taking in the lump-shaped chairs, the occasional ding of the elevator, and mostly, the weight of being at MIT as an admit.
I, alone, plopped down on a green lump and called my mom. You grabbed my words from my mouth and swallowed them up in your silence. I felt small, just a body in your orbit. At CPW, I already felt small in this “grown-up” environment; old trees, cracked gravel, chalkboard classrooms, young adult scholars. I couldn’t stand it. So I left you.
Fast forward to freshman year, burdened with 8.01 learning sequences and psets, I traveled up the Stud elevator to floor 5 — what a betrayal! Stud 5 twirled me around to the chatter of newly-minted frosh also navigating MIT’s waters. With the half hubbub in the crowded, loud study room and half still, locked-in-ness in the quiet room, 5 confused me. After an hour, I looked down at my work, which was unfinished. While my body was in 5, my heart was inevitably with you.
The next day, I carried my 6.1200 pset up to you. The elevator opened; I was nervous, but you were still as usual. I carried myself to your lumps, gently seated my belongings and a small brown sugar boba from TeaDo, and opened my iPad. I put my headphones on and listened to “Ojuelegba” by Wizkid as I attempted discrete math for the first time. Your silence possessed me; I blinked, and hours had passed. I looked down at my work and saw the pset 75% done and two 8.01 learning sequences conquered. Look at that, I thought.
As I picked up my Apple Pencil again to continue working, the sharp sound of a tuba broke me from my focus. I jolted. It sounded again, and I peered around the booth to see an entire orchestra had set up in the room opposite me. To the left of the room, dancers piled into a studio. Students in the middle of the study space squeezed into a dragon costume. Waltzers danced in front of the UA office. The piano sang again. The elevator dinged. People’s voices wafted in. It seemed silence wasn’t all Stud 4 had to offer. Around 6 p.m., you would adorn your silver gown and transform from an un-assuming maid to a dazzling Cinderella. I appreciated your transformation. You weren’t split, but unique. Sort of human. I no longer felt small. I felt like your companion.
I soon realized you hid more secrets. While I was walking around looking for The Tech’s office, I saw club doors and mysteries locked behind keypads and storage rooms with props and chairs. It wasn’t until I became News Staff and gained keycard access to the office that I was able to explore some of your ancient history.
W20-483 contains bookshelves full of newspapers from years past (1881 to be precise), storage cabinets with files and recollections, and a broken Coca-Cola vending machine with a crinkled note from an unknown K.J.M. reading, “Don’t Steal the Fucking Quarters!” News staff meetings start at 6 p.m. on Sundays, so when the clock strikes six and you transform into Cinderella, so do I — in a way. I shift from a silent studier to a vocal news writer.
I’ve seen my biggest growth with you, from figuring out classical mechanics to becoming the V146 News Editor of The Tech. I kind of love you, I fear.
Sincerely,
Jada
[1] Some of the shivering might also have been due to the frigid CPW cold seeping into my cheap puffer from Amazon.