Some parts of elementary school never survived the transition to college, and I don’t just mean cooties. I’m talking about a half-hour period every afternoon when every little eye would gleam, every little heart would pound with glee, and every little finger would get pinched between the rusty chains on the swing set.

Recess.

There is no recess in college. I tried to institute it once. “Whoopee, recess!” I yelled, and I ran out of my Art History lecture carrying a kickball. Unfortunately, no one followed suit, perhaps because the lecture had only begun five minutes before.

But I think I know the real reason no one followed: recess activities haven’t been adapted to college. Thus I propose the following changes for when the great Recess Revolution comes:

Recess Sports, Old Version:
Choosing teams for any sport was always a special moment for me. After all the other players were picked, the selection came down to me and a fat kid lovingly nicknamed Dumptruck. Then an argument would ensue, with both teams insisting that neither of us should be allowed to play football, or indeed to walk the earth at all. This was, of course, until they realized they could trade me to the other team for non-human bonuses: “If you take Adam, we’ll give you an extra fifteen yards and this pointy rock you can hit him with.” Good times.

Recess Sports, New Version:
Thankfully, college has put an end to these embarassments. Maybe students aren’t any more tolerant, and maybe the sports aren’t any tamer, but...um...well, the rocks where I go to school are slightly less pointy.

The Carousel, Old Version:
Calling this spin-around disc a “carousel” is like calling a piece of sheet metal a train. No ponies, no poles, and not really all that much fun, just a chance to learn why it wasn’t the best idea to put recess immediately after lunch.

The Carousel, New Version:
Beer.

The See-Saw, Old Version:
Yet another piece of playground equipment gone wrong. In elementary school, we learned that the “lever” is a simple machine used for launching things. And what's on the playground? HOLY CRAP, IT’S A GIANT LEVER. A bond of trust therefore builds between both see-saw occupants, mostly because the kid on the ground holds supreme power over the kid in the air. A quick sidestep, and you hit the ground so hard that you cry to get the teacher’s attention (without, of course, leaving the see-saw, because dammit it’s your turn).

The See-Saw, New Version:
Beer.

Indoor Recess, Old Version:
The term “recess” gets used very loosely to describe this monstrosity of an afternoon that occurs when it’s raining, cold, or the teachers are hung over. Basically, you sit in your classroom, all crowded around the one board game with half the pieces missing, pretending that you’re really playing something. Yelling “Yahtzee!” from time to time adds to the excitement, though that’s true for most situations.

Indoor Recess, New Version:
Indoor recess does exist in college, and it’s called the first day of a seminar class. Everyone sits around a big table, puts their notebooks away, and plays — that’s right — icebreaker games. Just like indoor recess! Hooray! Let’s go around the table, we’ll start with me, and give us your name, where you’re from, your favorite “Space Ghost” character, the location of your porn stash, and the reason your last relationship failed. Adam, Delaware, Zorak, top dresser drawer underneath the socks, she was a bitch!

That One Kid, Old Version:
There’s always that one kid, the kid that everyone hangs out with to make themselves look good. At my school, that kid was Gordon, a weird and wiry little being who looked like a shaved chimp with a mullet. It was wonderful. Next to Gordon, nothing I did seemed that bad. I’d play kickball, and I’d miss the ball and land on my ass in the dirt. The other kids would laugh -- and oh how they laughed -- until Gordon got up there, caught the kickball, and began to hump it.

That One Kid, New Version:
To the best of my knowledge, today Gordon is worth $81.5 million. I picture him, in his sinewy glory, laying in a custom-built room in his mansion, grinning and adrift in a sea of lubricated kickballs. Don’t worry. I don’t picture this often.

Recess Lingo, Old Version:
You need never be insulted at recess if you just remember the ancient maxim, “I’m rubber, you’re glue; whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.” Yell this at the other children, even if they’re just telling you that you dropped your inhaler near the jungle gym. A chant to avoid, I’ve learned, is, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” This only prompts the other children to go find some sticks and stones.

Recess Lingo, New Version:
I gave up on using recess lingo in college after the “nonny nonny boo-boo” incident, in which my roommate, pledging a fraternity, got incredibly drunk and stuck his head in doo-doo. Also, “missed me, missed me, now you gotta suck it” doesn’t quite have the same ring as its grade-school counterpart.

So when the great Recess Revolution comes, my friends, be prepared. Someday, we shall all regain the traumatic ordeal we loved so dearly.

Maybe not today. And maybe not tomorrow.

But probably Thursday. That”s when my next Art History lecture is.