“He was rooting by the window, snuffling for any crumbs he could find,” said Clancy.

The pig’s appearance, Clancy said, was likely the most recent exploit of the ‘Barnyard Bandits,’ a group of Michigan State University students who would clandestinely take animals from the school-owned farms south of the main campus and deliver them to odd spots around campus. 

The loose pig wasn’t the only mischief Clancy was privy to in her time living on campus from 1980 to 1982 either.

Ahead of an anxiety-inducing biology final, which involved identifying organs and muscles in dissected lab rats, a fellow student volunteered to dissect a specimen outside of class to allow for last-minute note taking, so long as someone could get him a rat.

“I was the one who stole the rat,” Clancy admitted.

Clancy was adamant enough about facilitating the dissection that she had wrapped the rat specimen in a paper towel after taking it from a campus lab and kept it in her fridge for a few days until it was time for the dissection.

“It was just like when you see those pictures of old school operating theaters, with the people looking down. So, he was sitting on the floor with the rat, and we were all standing around him looking down,” said Clancy.

For Clancy, the bizarre and comedic moments that dotted her time living on campus have an element of nostalgia to them. They represent a version of dorm life, and of MSU, that no longer exists — marked by constant face-to-face interaction with strangers and a lack of instant entertainment. It’s a feeling other alumni describe having too.

Matthew Haugh, who attended MSU from 1997 to 2001 and lived in North Hubbard Hall as a freshman, recalled playing tackle football games against other floors on Sundays in the fall.

“My floor would always play the ninth floor, but each week we would pick a different floor, and we would battle them and play tackle football to the point where, in three consecutive weeks, an ambulance had to come out,” Haugh said.

One student broke their femur, another their ankle and one person broke their arm, Haugh said. After the consecutive injuries, he said, the football season was officially cancelled by their floor’s resident assistant.

Haugh also shared that he and his friends once hosted an event called “the pot Olympics.”

“We had a triathlon of different events of you know, bong hits and or steamrollers or whatever. We did like a triathlon of it (…) which turned out to be a terrible idea, but was really fun,” Haugh said.

One thing that Clancy said made dorm living so conducive to social interactions and shenanigans was that most students would keep their doors open whenever they were home.

“You kinda just wandered down the hall if you were bored, see who’s there and hang in and you know, check it out,” said Clancy.

Nowadays, most students keep their doors shut save for the first few days of the semester.

“I have my nieces and nephews currently attend MSU right now and they’re in the dorms, they’re like ‘Dorm life is so boring,’ and I’m like, ‘What do you mean? Go out and explore the world’ (…) there’s nothing boring about it,” Haugh said.

“I think generally people are disconnected now,” Haugh said, adding that he thinks “there’s a lack of sincerity or closeness involved in that.”

Despite the changing times, there are still people making efforts to foster community among students living in the dorms. 

Ty Beeman, a horticulture freshman and the treasurer for Hubbard Hall government, said the organization tries to encourage socializing through regularly scheduled events.

“For us, the most important thing is to just get people talking. So, the main point of any of our events is we just bring people together. Whether it’s around crafts or watching games, they’re brought together among common interests,” said Beeman. “That can spark conversations and allow people to form a relationship within the dorm.”