Pranks. From the infamous “bluff in the buff” of the early ‘70s (just ask a few current board members) to the launching of a homemade mannequin off the chapel catwalk during a board member’s sermon on Eutychus, to various items dropping out of the ceiling during Tony Campolo’s chapel address (prompting a few words not usually heard in that environment) to a few garden-variety standards like rolling the campus just before preview weekend, college pranks elevate us above the mundane “warp and woof” of daily life, offering a kind of transcendence that makes the tuition you pay to go here seem more than a bargain. Or maybe not.
My idea of a good prank is one that is faculty planned and executed (and, of course, Nielson approved) and which leaves students reveling in the interdisciplinary beauty and intrigue of it all. Can’t you just picture a crack team including president-elect John Holberg, aided by soon-to-retire-so-what-does-it-matter Jim Wildeman, Kayb (in the event any public nudity is involved), Don Petcher (to provide a Dooyweerdian legitimation for the whole thing), and Paul Morton to drive the admissions golf cart as a getaway vehicle. Or maybe not.
Actually, a faculty prank would never get off the ground. To pull one off, we’d need at least three faculty meetings for multiple readings of draft proposals, and in the end, if we couldn’t frame it within the confines of a creation-fall-redemption-consummation paradigm (CFRC for insiders) or figure out how it fit the spirit of the community belief statements, we’d have to abandon it for less ambitious projects like drafting a philosophy of education statement or affirming a strategic plan. Whew!
During my redemptive freshman year at Redeemer College in Ancaster, Ontario, students used to pull “rapture” pranks. At Redeemer, students live in 8-person townhouses. We would wait until one housemate was taking a nap. Then, we’d turn off the main electrical breaker, turn on a bunch of stuff (lights, radios, fans, etc.), huddle outside near the breaker box and throw the switch back on. The idea was that the unsuspecting napper (usually a history major) would leap to his feet, experience the chaos, and believe he’d been “left behind” (hmmm… maybe Tim LaHaye went to Redeemer). However, I found that these pranks don’t often have the intended effect at schools with predominantly a-millenial orientations.
Pranks are eminently social phenomena – which is why I, your sociologist and humble servant, am uniquely positioned to write about them. Professors from other disciplines simply don’t have the proper focus. English professors would undoubtedly notice that the root of “prank” is “rank” and discussion of the etymology of the word itself – whether it refers to smell or to social position in a hierarchy – would supersede any meaningful discourse we might otherwise enjoy. History professors would point out that wars are just pranks on a grand scale, noting that “ha” is the epistemic center of the word “jihad” and suggesting that perhaps this is the reason why students try to make college pranks funny. Philosophers wouldn’t be any help illuminating pranks – after all, the very center of the word “philosophy” is “so”… which is about as far as they would get. The psychology department could probably be helpful in enlightening us about the true nature of pranks – after all the word “psych” and its various derivatives (psychotic, psycho, etc.) really do describe most college pranks. But, they are pretty caught up in their own “Where’s Phil Wright” version of the “Where’s Waldo” game. Thus, I am alone in my calling to bring to you, the student, new, fresh, and true (by which I mean sociological), perspective on the nature, function – and depending on how this goes – theology of college pranks. Here it is:
As I see it, college pranks can be looked at in two basic ways – they can be seen as disruptive of social systems (a conflict perspective), or as a factor contributing to the stability of social systems (a functionalist perspective). Your position in the college structure will likely determine which perspective you endorse. (For example, I have been a student at Covenant College, served on staff for 10 years, and worked as a faculty member for 11 years. Each of those positions gave me a different perspective on pranks.)
In its elementary form, functionalism suggests that if a given practice continues to persist (we keep on having pranks), this persistence is evidence that the practice is bringing stability and greater cohesion to the system. This is not so much a moral perspective (i.e., pranks are “good”) as it is an argument that systems will retain those things necessary for system survival, while eliminating those things which threaten it. In fact, immoral things can stabilize systems.
Well, pranks continue to exist, so, from a functionalist perspective, they must be bringing stability to the system of Covenant College. The question is, what are they stabilizing? What are they good for? I can think of a couple of things. First, pranks are good for hall unity, and by extension, friendships. Second, they’re helpful in the ongoing task of convincing high school students to attend this college. Oddly, I don’t believe we could continue to run this college if students, with a sudden burst of piety (brought on by mandatory chapel attendance), simply settled into their studies and refused to pull pranks. How dull. How boring. How Arminian. How unlikely any campus preview weekenders would want to come here.
I remember quite well (from my years as an admissions counselor) that campus pre-viewers sometimes matriculate for no other reason than their delight in being included in some cool, mildly destructive, only slightly distasteful prank. Do the math… If a destructive prank costs the college $1000 and there was little moral turpitude involved (I’m not sure what that means, but it sounds serious), and if a new freshman brings upwards of $35,000 to the college for the next four years… that is an excellent investment. Suddenly, the prankster is not simply a degenerate, but a sort of visionary fundraiser. And, if aforementioned new freshman guy meets freshman girl… they marry after an extended engagement of, say, three or four months, join a PCA church, tithe, and eventually send their kids here… well, you see what latent functionality a mere prank can have. Seen this way, pranks are downright kingdom building. Can I get an “Amen!?”
But… there’s also the conflict perspective. A conflict perspective involves an attempt to explain social life in terms of divisiveness, fighting over scarce resources, annihilation or neutralization of opponents, and so on. And this is where our problems with pranks come in. Pranks affect groups differently. They can help one group achieve status, while doing violence to another group. They can give one group a thrill, while degrading another group.
I can remember at least two particularly disturbing pranks during my tenure here at the college. One occurred while I was career-shadowing then Dean of students Scott Raymond. Mr. Raymond had to deal with a situation involving a group of Covenant College guys taking a group of preview-weekend guys down to a soccer field at night, making them strip down to that which God had given them, and jog back to the campus. Hmmm. Funny? Possibly. Normal behavior for college guys? Probably. But, there was one 17-year old in the group – legally a child – and his mother had called Dean Raymond after hearing how coerced and uncomfortable her son had felt with what he experienced as a borderline sexual assault. The possibility of formal charges was raised. I don’t know many of the in-and-outs of the situation, but my memory is that Dean Raymond very skillfully acknowledged the injury and brought the situation to a satisfactory outcome. But the whole event was lamentable and the young man who felt coerced did not experience us as a college that protected him. We victimized him. Funny? No.
The other incident involved a male hall “pranking” a female hall. The males got the brilliant idea of sneaking onto the females’ floor late at night, pulling them out of their beds and hauling them outside the building where they sprayed them with water. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination. This too can easily be seen as an act of violence. Done outside the confines of a college (i.e., sneaking into someone’s home and kidnapping them) there would undoubtedly be police involvement. I remember hearing that several parents of the girls were considering legal action against those male students. I don’t know what the eventual outcome was, but I wonder what I would do if my daughters were treated in such a way?
We are a community, and communities like ours – who have much of their lives bound up in each other – have to be very careful to protect and act in the interest of the other. We are also people of the Word – and this Word tells us that we are to think of each other as neighbors, brothers, and sisters. Accordingly, pranks must edify all. Actually, it takes a great deal of skill to plan and execute a college prank that leaves all parties reveling in the wonder of it all. It’s pretty easy to plan some act of violence or to destroy something with little reflection on the meaning of those acts.
I suggest one simple standard for determining whether a given prank is appropriate. Does it treat the other as “neighbor” or does it reinforce the notion of other as “stranger?” How hollow is our Christian vernacular, with its reference to “the body,” “community,” and “people of God” if we treat each other like objects rather than image-bearers and neighbors?
From time to time we (the campus community) grapple with what it means to be an adult. I feel fairly strongly that we, the college authorities, should treat you, the students, as adults. As it is, you live in a difficult liminal space. But the standard for adult behavior is pretty high. To be an adult is to assume a particular kind of role on campus. That role primarily involves envisioning oneself as a caretaker of the community. Faculty are, in part, evaluated according to this standard. When I am evaluated, my super-ordinates are asking whether I have functioned as a caretaker in this community. People can be caretakers in the classroom, on a soccer field, basketball court, or in the dorms. That is what an adult is. Accordingly, I think all pranks should be executed by adults – because when pranks are carried out by caretakers, they stabilize the community.
Now get out there, plan some pranks, and report back to me. I’ll do my best to take care of Nielson and Voyles. But remember… your pranks can’t touch the things we used to do in the late 1980s!
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