Everyone knows that Pomona College is the happiest school on earth, but that does not necessarily mean it is the best. Students perceive Pomona positively, and therefore they express satisfaction with the school. However, perception does not always coincide with reality. Although Pomona’s academics, extracurricular opportunities, athletics, and social life exemplify the ideal college experience, the school is severely lacking in the area of student safety.

One of Pomona’s most serious safety issues stares us in the face every time we step into a classroom (which we do, at least theoretically, on a daily basis). Pomona prides itself on intimate student-faculty interaction in the classroom. However, the proximity between professor and student gives the professor, who enjoys a well-established position of power and authority, the opportunity to physically harm nearby students.

The fact that most professors conduct their classes without any third-party supervision whatsoever only enhances their ability to freely attack students. Those who downplay the probability of professor aggression should consult Ryan Murphy ’05, who keenly observes, "some of those professors are creepy."

Colleen O’Rourke ’05 is particularly concerned about her vulnerability. She sits "in the front row of Steinmetz’s Chem 1a, and everyone knows that he has enough shotguns to take out the federal government… It’s just him and the students… He could take out a couple of students without anyone realizing it, because [most of us] are asleep by the end of class."

Numerous threats to personal safety occur even closer to home, in student dormitories. Furniture provided by the school presents the primary threat to dorm safety. The chairs, beds, bookshelves, and desks are all heavy, hard, and movable, attributes that are, in combination, potentially fatal. Some of the furniture is inherently unstable; the desk chairs in Mudd-Blaisdell, which seem to have been constructed by people who do not grasp the concept of flat floors, are one shining example. According to Meg Norris ’04, "People who have those chairs have fallen out of them," often resulting in injury.

The solution to this problem is obvious: all furniture should be bolted to the floor, thus compensating for its instability. Of course, fixing the furniture in a given position would decrease students’ flexibility and freedom to arrange their rooms as they please, but that would be a small price to pay for a little peace of mind.

The whole furniture issue, however, may very well be moot, because most of the buildings themselves have serious stability issues. Erin McLaughlin ’05 laments, "If there’s an earthquake and the building collapses, I’ll probably die… Either that or I could jump out the window, land on the pavement, and break all of my bones."

Subtler flaws in dorm construction pose a similar threat to student well-being. Many dorm window frames bear the words, "WARNING: Screen will not prevent children from falling out of window." I appreciate the warning, but I don’t stay up all night worrying about children falling out through the window. I worry about children falling in through the window. My mornings are punctuated by a recurring fear that I’ll be bombarded from above as I emerge, unsuspecting, from the shower.

Many other students feel threatened by the prospect of children falling into the dorms. Nathan Tate ’05 worries that "children could also fall into the toilets. I feel unsafe on that slippery substance on the floor next to the toilet." The slippery substance to which Tate refers is, no doubt, one of the unpleasant side effects of falling children.

Although careful observers like Mr. Tate can easily identify the numerous safety hazards present at Pomona, most of the students are completely oblivious to the dangers that surround them. When asked whether they felt safe, a group of first-year in Mudd-Blaisdell responded affirmatively and wondered aloud how anyone could possibly feel threatened on this idyllic campus. In the background, Cole Rottweiler ’05 and Lee Strassenburg ’05 viciously attacked each other for no apparent reason, but the other students didn’t seem to notice. They were too wrapped up in the thrills of everyday human existence to see the mayhem in their own hall.

This incident illustrates the central problem with safety at Pomona: awareness. When people are more aware about the dangers they face, they are better prepared to prevent them. For example, you probably didn’t know that I’ve been convicted of seventeen homicides in six different states and that I escaped from prison only a few days before coming to Pomona. But now that you’re aware of my criminal background, you’re much safer than you were before. It’s that easy.