Have you been searching for a space that makes three feel like a crowd? Do you crave to be so close to the whiteboard you can only see one square foot of it at a time? Do you ever think: I wish they’d make classrooms the size of my closet.
Then look no further. All your wishes have come true in the form of the newest, pointless thing on Chapman’s campus: the Doti cubby, giving the term small class size a whole new meaning.
Built circa 2013, the Doti Cubby is located in Doti Hall, on the first floor.
About two feet wide and eight feet long, it features an uncomfortably long white board and bench. Since its founding, this room has catered to dozens of students’ needs for confusion and disorientation.
If you haven’t seen it, check it out. It’ll take you about five seconds.
The Doti cubby has quickly risen to become the crown jewel of the new building. It features a leather-backed bench with a back so tall I can only imagine it was built for giants without legs. Man, Chapman really thinks of everything.
The whiteboard, menacingly close to the bench, features quotes and questions scrawled across its broad white face, such as, “What the hell is this room?”
Ah, but there is an answer. Chapman is now claiming that the room is a collaborative space. Finally, because all I have been hearing from students is how badly they wish they could collaborate, if only they had the space.
Assuming this is the only designated collaborative space on campus, I imagine it will soon become a hot commodity. Hundreds, if not thousands, of students and faculty, their minds’ wild with collaborative lust, will swarm the hall.
Sad, then, that they built it so small. Only about four people can collaborate at a time, shutting out potentially thousands of lonely minds. Thousands will try to get in, and thousands will be denied. And I bet USC has two.
But seriously – Doti cubby, collaborative space, gentrified closet, would a room by any other name be less pointless? Chapman, you have truly outdone yourself. I think this beats even the excessive amounts of fountains. Henceforth, the Doti cubby will be the yardstick on which all future pointless Chapman projects will be measured.
Or maybe this can become something great. I’ve seen poetry and lines of encouragement written on the whiteboard. Someone even shared a recipe for Masala. I wrote it down. This could be the next thing that, against every attempt of the university to turn us into public relations drones, unites us as real people.
Every school has its quirks. Ours happen to be very expensive quirks, but quirks nonetheless. It is these quirks that relate us to each other and give us a common experience that is uniquely Chapman. For that, Doti cubby, I salute you. May your freakishly odd proportions unite us for years to come.