One of the graffiti-spotted desks.
On Sept. 25, at about 10 p.m., the seventh floor of McKeldin Library was — as always — silent. My favorite desk, the rightmost one in the last row, was tucked in the back past the folio collections on Shakespeare, Chaucer and English poetry. The desk looks like the other ones around it: tan wood streaked with darker stripes along the grain, a shelf on top and two barriers on either side for full isolation.
What sets it apart is its graffiti.
The handwriting isn’t pretty. The messages are scrawled in multiple colors, drawn out of exasperation or flickering hope. They were written by weary students during all-nighters or late nights or long afternoons, when they were struggling for a passing grade or struggling from boredom, aiming for success or just aiming not to fail.
Scrawled in pen into the seventh floor desk’s shelf is: “JESUS LOVES YOU NO MATTER YOUR PAST.” An arrow points to this sentence. Above it is a follow-up message: “Unless you’re Jewish.”
As midterms approach, the desks are increasingly occupied. On Oct. 2, all that was visible from the folios were the tops of people’s heads and the bottoms of their feet. Backpacks stuck out of the sides of the desks.
These students sat in desks that many have filled before them. They sat among writings that date back years, such as an etching on the seventh floor desk from 2007. Some are newer, adding to conversations from long ago.
Perhaps the greatest social network at this university isn’t online but rather is etched into wooden library desks.
Nelson Vasquez, a freshman enrolled in letters and sciences, was sitting on the couches near the elevator. He thinks people write on desks for freedom.
“Sometimes you get bored and you express your mind,” he said.
The graffiti can be distracting when studying, he said, but it can also provide encouragement.
“Sometimes you get a little motivation,” he said.
On a desk next to study carrel 6229 on the sixth floor, the graffiti forum takes a more serious tone.
The question: “What good reason do I have not to kill myself?”
A string of replies: “Cause I haven’t done it yet either.” (“This is probably the best reason,” someone agrees.)
“Don’t give up!! Call 301-314-HELP!,” (the student-run Help Center’s phone number).
“B/c there are no GOOD reasons to do so.”
Gary White, the library’s public services associate dean, hadn’t seen the graffiti before being interviewed for this story. He took a quick look at some of the writing on the desks. It confirmed his thoughts about the kind of experiences students have on the library’s upper floors.
He said the environment on these quiet floors is more work-intensive and usually reserved for cramming sessions, which surfaces in the graffiti. The desks have been in the library for years, White said, and some furniture has been there for 20 years or longer.
He calls the motivational messages “a very positive spin on the graffiti component.”
“I think for many students, there’s a very personal bond that develops, a very intense feel of connectivity to a certain space,” he said. “We have lots of students that feel very connected to the library, for example. For those students, that particular seat or that particular carrel becomes theirs. In their mind, it’s theirs.”
White said alumni sometimes will return to the library and try to find the desks where they spent long hours studying. For them, it’s not just a workspace. It’s also a time capsule.
“To the next generation of people, the next generation of students, I think it’s a way that people extend the connection they feel,” he said.
An anonymous person asked a question about virginity on the sixth floor, via the desk to the right of study carrel 6223. “Is it sad I’m a sophomore in college and still a virgin? Advice?” someone wrote.
Answers ranged from “Sex is awesome. have it with someone awesome,” to “I’m a grad student (2nd year) & still a virgin” to “I’m sure most people sitting in a cubicle at the library are virgins…”
Sarah Young, a senior accounting and finance major, wasn’t a fan of graffiti-filled desks. She was studying at the library at a sixth-floor table on the night of Oct. 2. She said she thinks the graffiti is not conducive to studying.
“I guess what I find the most distracting is when it’s a conversation going back and forth between people who have been there,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything that I think would be worth preserving.”
Christopher Nunes, a senior chemical engineering major who was with Young, said he agreed and that he’s “not a fan of graffiti in general.”
Olivia Farrell, a junior civil engineering major, was on the sixth floor looking for a book on Oct. 2. She’s studied on that floor before. She said she thinks people scribble on the desks for a diversion from homework, but also for deeper reasons.
“Maybe the person’s personality is just to leave their mark on some property,” Farrell said.
The left barrier on the seventh-floor desk is a philosophical examination.
“Where does the time go?” someone scribbled.
An arrow points to a response: “ON THIS DESK.”
A second arrow: “If you find out, let me know.”
A final arrow points to wisdom in red pen: “As you get older, each day contributes to a smaller portion of your life. So time seems to speed up. It stinks.”
