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haven't got the real Siwash spirit, that's all.

Funny thing about college. It isn't merely an education. It's a whole
life in itself. You enter it unknown and tiny--just a Freshman with no
rights on earth. You work and toil and suffer--and fall in love--and
climb and rise to fame. When you are a Senior, if you have good luck,
you are one of the biggest things in the whole world--for there isn't
any world but the campus at college. Freshmen look up to you and admire
men who are big enough to talk with you. The Sophomores may sneer at
faculties and kings, but they wouldn't think of sassing you. The papers
publish your picture in your football clothes. You dine with the
professors, and prominent alumni come back and shake you by the hand. Of
course, you know that somewhere in the dim nebulous outside there is a
President of the United States who is quite a party in his way, but none
of the girls mention it when they tell you how grand you looked after
they had hauled the other team off of you and sewed on your ear. They
talk about you exclusively because you're really the only thing worth
talking about, you know.

When Commencement comes you move about the campus like some tall
mountain peak on legs. The students bring their young brothers up to
meet you and you try to be kind and approachable. They give you a
tremendous cheer when you go down the aisle in the chapel to get your
prizes. You are referred to on all sides as one of the reasons why
America is great. The professors when they bid you good-by ask you
anxiously not to forget them. Then Commencement is over and college life
is past, and there is nothing left in life but to become a senator or
run a darned old trust. You leave the campus, taking care not to step on
any of the buildings, and go out into the world pretty blue because
you're through with about everything worth while; and you wonder if you
can stand it to toil away making history eleven months in the year with
only time to hang around college a few weeks in spring or fall. You're
done with the real life. You're an old man, you've seen it all; and it
sometimes takes you two weeks or more to recover and decide that after
all a great career may be almost as interesting in a way as college
itself. So you buck up and decide to accept the career--and that's where
you begin to catch on to the general drift of the universe in dead
earnest.

Take a man of sixty, with a permanent place in Who's Who and a la