You don't know who I am. You've probably never even heard of me.

But I go to Macalester. I pass you on the sidewalks and say hi to you at parties. I even sit behind you in your 10:50 MWF. Once, we met outside the library—but you probably don't remember me. You probably don't even see me. But I see you.

I see you heading to eat, studying, and walking to class—turning your collar up against the cold. I see you filter downstairs to check your SPO and stay up way too late finishing your homework.

I see you drink on Fridays nights and smoke pot on Tuesday afternoons. Forget to eat your vegetables and not wash your hands. I see your grades and your mail. You've taken two Celender classes and enrolled in Spanish at St. Thomas. You still haven't paid your phone bill from sophomore year. And your GPA is good for a Communications Studies minor.

I see you at the Scottish Country Fair—hoisting up your haggis to the caber toss, Whiskey tasting festivals and men in kilts arguing with sheepdogs. I see you wake up to the sound of bagpipes at six a.m., pet show dogs at noon, and cough up Scotch eggs and mini donuts at five. I see you gathering on lawns drinking beer until two a.m. and singing "Scotland the Brave" to a darkened Dupre.

I've seen you naked. Running. At breakfast. In the middle of the night. I've seen them cheer—dropping their cheesy eggs in expectation and shuffling out to their favorite stories of food fights and crazy streaking at Kagin.

I see you at the freaking crazy new Campus Center. I see you try to hang out there. I see you try to use the meeting rooms, transform the dining hall into a supposed music venue, and cram yourself into a corner to study where you won't end up smelling like banana curry. I see you eat beside the coppered names of alumni. Eat your vegetables.

I see you try to find a computer—let alone a working printer—at two o' clock in the morning.

I've seen your major die. I've seen your department combined and cut, faculty hires stalled, and tenure processes hurried despite certain grievance procedures. Boy, I see a lot.

I see you, too: dressing in your fancy ties and business suits and drinking coffee during your committee meetings. I see you cut the budget and restructure the curriculum. I see you peeping out the corners of your Weyerhaeuser office window to take note on the activity below. I see you once a year. Serving cheesy eggs. At breakfast. In the middle of the night.

I've seen you come and I'll see you go. I've seen you diversify the endowment, build a new campus center, and increase alumni giving. I see you've been reading U.S. News & World Report. And advertising to wealthier applicants in the New York Times. I've seen you praise Kofi and decrease admissions for international students. I've seen you walk your poodle.

I've seen both of your secretaries and your mollusk research. I've seen you in a temporary position for 6 years. I've seen you phase out their departments and support your own.

I've seen you and your career development center. I've seen you stifle discussion about a 24-hour computer lab. I've seen you close your own lab at ten o' clock.

I've seen a lot.