By Dessa Bayrock (The Cascade) – Email
Print Edition: March 6, 2013
We’ve all seen them lurking around the halls, staring accusingly at students and faculty alike.
“I’ve been here since fall 2011!” they tell anyone who will listen. “What, did you just forget about me? Am I going to be stuck here forever?”
Most students scurry by without a second glance, and in all truthfulness it’s not their problem. These spectres of semesters past hang around for months after they expire, clogging halls and trying to get the attention of anyone who will listen.
I’m talking about posters – the ones advertising events that have passed, cars and textbooks that have already been sold, and opportunities with deadlines months ago. They’re everywhere. Once you notice them, you can’t stop seeing them.
I am the Haley Joel Osment of 11”x17” paper. I see dead posters. They’re everywhere.
When I’m putting up posters of my own, I make an effort to remove any that are unspeakably old. Passersby glare at me, thinking I’m after the pushpins, or maybe that I’m trying to cut down on the number of posters competing with my own. Can’t you see these aren’t current? I want to yell. This lecture was two months ago! This deadline for application was last week!
So although I often dream of going on a rampage, traversing the halls and ripping down posters, I can never get up the nerve. Security would probably haul me away.
So here I am, resigned to tearing down posters as sneakily as I can when I think no one is looking. I feel a little like a criminal, but also a little like Robin Hood – I’m taking action and effecting change, one poster at a time. Maybe there are students out there who secretly breathe with relief that they are no longer being invited to all-star wrestling three months after the event took place, and lift a silent thanks to me.
On the other hand, I have to wonder who should actually be tearing them down. The janitorial staff? Security?
I’m sure we could institute a policy that would hold students (or student groups) accountable for taking down their own propaganda once it stops being relevant, but is that really necessary? Are we honestly so lazy that we’ll leave posters up on the walls for months at a time?
And is no one willing to be my Little John and help a Robin Hood out?
At the risk of mixing my metaphors, you—yes, you—are contributing to UFV’s ghost problem. Now let’s dust off our Ghostbusters credentials, remember that we’re adults and take our own posters down when they’re no longer pertinent.
It’s because of these out-dated eyesores and over-crowded hallway walls that the new building at CEP campus is a poster-free zone. There are maybe three cute little bulletin boards in the entire building, that’s the only place posters are allowed. In the entire building.
This is what we’ve come to. We can’t clean up our own mess, so the parents have taken away the toys. We can’t colour inside the lines, so Mom and Dad have taken away the crayons.
Maybe UFV’s next building will be entirely poster-free, without a single measly bulletin board to its name. That’s certainly the way we’re going.
At this point, accosted by the ghosts of ancient advertisements every time I walk to class, I wouldn’t be surprised.
