1T5’s Martina Bellisario gives an insider’s opinion on Frosh Week

By: Martina Bellisario

I’m standing in Kirkwood Meadows, about to be served up a hot plate of awkward lunch, surrounded by other identically dressed wide-eyed frosh. It’s the first day of Frosh Week at Trinity College, a week that promises activities, icebreakers, and partial nudity. The girl beside me compliments my bright red shirt and comments on how we look like members of a cult already; I look forward to a week full of surprises.

Before I came to Trinity, I was well aware of the countless College traditions, like first year matriculation and donning a gown for high table dinner. What I didn’t know is that only a few hours after I arrived at the College I would be on my knees, genuflecting for the first nineteen-year-old bishop I’ve ever met. I avoid making any abrupt movements in fear of being excommunicated.

The James Bond theme of frosh week sets the tone for the first party of the school year, a sophisticated casino soiree. From the moment I step inside the stylishly decorated room, I come to realize one of the College’s most distinctive and charming features: only at Trinity does playing cards in Seely Hall turn into a black tie affair. Like a true Trinity girl, I can’t help but swoon over the sea of bow ties in one of the College’s most impressive spaces. I think I’m in love.

Sitting cross-legged among 200 or so other first year students in the immaculately manicured quad, the main lesson I learn from my first encounter with the famed – and often alcohol-infused – Trinity College Literary Society is that conventional wit and Trinity wit are very different things. Debating a resolution about high school reading lists, the four speakers keep the audience roaring with laughter throughout speeches ranging vastly in relevance to the original topic, from “things you can learn by reading half the book” to “creatively taking one’s own life”.

“What’s going on?” a friend whispers in my ear during The Lit’s matriculation ceremony coup d’état. Only moments before, I had been marvelling at the august panel of deans, dons, and fellows lining the Faculty of Music stage in their regal robes, ready to offer up the wisdom of the ages to a new group of first years. In the midst of one of the fellow’s remarks the mike is stolen, Kanye West style, by the effervescent Speaker of The Lit, Lucas Durand. The combination of denim-clad students and gowned-out academics scattered across the brightly lit stage makes for a bizarre image, but one that no doubt highlights the many contrasts and layers of Trinity College that makes its character so strong and desirable. For many of us, this is the reason why we’re here.

I’m going to keep my account of the Toga Party that culminated Day Four festivities short and sweet, paying homage to most people’s togas that night. No description can do justice for the most epic night of the week. In a few words: when in Rome.

The night sky doesn’t serve as the only backdrop for drama; one jolly old chap of a frosh was spotted jumping out of a Welch window in broad daylight, allegedly trying to escape a female admire. Whoever said Trin guys only excel academically is seriously mistaken.“We are the salt of the earth,” dutifully chant my friends as we march alongside a pickup truck full of dancing upper years during the University of Toronto Student Union parade. The Fresh Prince of Trinity College, Donald Belfon, a dancer featured prominently on the back of the truck, is shaking his thing so vigorously that other frosh leaders have to give him space so as to avoid being punched in the face. Never fear: no fights will break out in West Toronto like they do in West Philadelphia. The word on the street is that the Trinity dance party was so wild that several Woodsworth College frosh leaders ditched their own frosh to join us. By this point in the week, I find myself being surprised less and less.

Despite awkward lunches and awkward beginnings, the end of the week ushers in a new atmosphere of comfort and familiarity. Cheers have been memorized, friendships have been forged, togas have fallen off — and it’s all thanks to frosh week.

“The best part of the week is that I didn’t break a single pair of pants,” declares head frosh leader Donald Belfon proudly.

On behalf of all the new 1T5’s, I’d like to congratulate all of the frosh week executive for holding a week-long event that was successful in every sense of the word.

After the madness of frosh week, initiation week can’t possibly compare – or can it?

Pull Quotes: “Only at Trinity does playing cards in Seely Hall turn into a black tie affair…I think I’m in love.” “Conventional wit and Trinity wit are very different things” (maybe? not sure?) OR “We are the salt of the earth”. either really…