My Story
When we drew our Glassboro maps in the second week of class, Bunce was on mine. In fact, Bunce was the only place on my map that had a distinguishable shape. I think the reason I did this wasn't just because Bunce has a notable architechture, but instead because Bunce, slowly over the course of this semester, had been becoming specific to me.
I entered this university as an English major not because I wanted to be, but because I thought it was all I could do. I was extremely depressed and I didn't really know what I wanted out of life, except that I really didn't want to be a part of it. This past fall was the hardest point in my life, and I barely could understand how I was making it through each week. By some lucky stroke of fate, I ended up in Brit Lit I with Dr. Falck, who not only helped to reignite my love of learning, but whose class also helped me to realize that literature was what made me truly happy. I made the trek to Bunce several times over the last two semesters to talk with her about papers and possible graduate school plans. Bunce became a place of hope that I, too, could one day be happy doing what I loved to do.
Not only did Bunce offer me hope, it offered me community. Almost everyone I care about is tied to Bunce in some way. Whether it be my best friend, the president of the math team, who has a time capsule planted on the front lawn of Bunce; professors and friends who unknowingly helped me pick up and reassemble my broken pieces; or a boy, who I met in my Shakespeare class this past fall, who I took ghosthunting in Bunce on our first date (sorry, Dane, I know you didn't want to break in) and has given me more love than I ever thought I deserved, Bunce has snuck its way into almost everything I love, and I never even noticed until now.
Whether it be a tale of ghosts, love, or hope, Bunce has many different stories depending on who you ask, and now, through my story, I have become a part of the collective memory that is Bunce Hall.
