What if our mascot were Matilda the Harlem Goat? What if Columbia were more like NYU? What if Low were a library, and Lerner were a student center? These are the questions that keep Bwog up at night as we toss and turn in our nest perched on the roof of Butler, knowing all and seeing all through the hazy lens of 5 Hour Energies and <5 Hours of Sleep. Claire Friedman meditates on words that sound like “mines.”

Screaming inside

Once upon a time, the School of Engineering and Applied Science was known as the School of Mines and once upon a time, everyone decided that both of these things were super boring. Students, sick of digging for gold and stressed at the very idea of an Engineering School, took to the streets in revolt. It was like the 60s all over again, except everyone was paler from spending so much time in mine shafts.

Then, the administration was hit with a bolt of inspiration: instead of a lousy Engineering school, why not change the School of Mines into a School of Mimes? Engineering students, notoriously bad at expressing their emotions, rejoiced; finally, a place where their silent agony and mute ecstasy could be appreciated! Their noiseless celebration at the decision was not heard ringing through Columbia’s campus, nor did it echo through the hallowed halls of Low. Tourists, posing with Alma Mater even then, wondered if they had stumbled onto a funeral procession. But oh, how wrong they were!

Former mining students found that their curriculum had been almost entirely replaced; instead of “Mining 101” and “History of Rocks and Things,” they were now required to take “Glass Cases of Emotion and You” and “The Art of Annoying Berets.” Instead of textbooks, campus bookstores began stocking boxes upon boxes of white face paint.

Soon, the entire campus was overtaken with silent, striped-shirt wearing hordes. The lawn, previously a place for Frisbee and sunbathing (but only on green flag days, of course), became devoted to ropeless tug-of-war and pantomime sweeping. Students of Barnard and Columbia College, who spent most of their time in Butler Library, barely noticed any change.

And oh how Columbia’s mimes prospered! Employers, displeased with the service of their current mimes, flocked to the prestigious institution without delay. “Finally!” they cried, “We can replace our Company Mime with one that has true talent! Our current mimes only talk about mining, and that’s boring.”

As Columbia’s mimes collected accolades around the world, the administration met yet again to discuss how to use their resources in order to best serve the Miming School. Taking into account the importance and centrality of the School of Mimes, Columbia University made a tough decision: to eliminate Barnard and Columbia College completely, thus devoting all resources to miming.

Libraries were gutted and replaced with thousands of small stages and top hats in which to collect tips. Dorms were completely remodeled in order to be equipped with the latest in invisible-bed technology and pantomime-desk design. Only mirrors were actually provided, so mimes could practice the perfect face-painting technique (it takes years of experience to avoid getting white paint on your teeth).

Former Barnard and Columbia College students roamed the streets with unfinished economics degrees, begging for a pretend-meal or at least an invisible-roof to sleep under. However, the University had to maintain its image and these ex-students were turned away at the gates. The School of Mimes would accept only the best of the best, and could not have such riffraff on the premises.

After several years of hard work, Columbia’s decision to downsize paid off with a #1 ranking on the “Top Miming Schools” list annually published by US News & World Report. Graduating mimes continue to populate the upper echelons of society, and express their superiority over others through silent derision.

Those terrifying eyebrows via Shutterstock