Even though Hammond’s been on the campus hit list for years, it still sits on State College’s skyline. Sure, the school has better buildings to blow up, and they seem to be getting closer every year, but why on Earth are we still having classes there?

I thought we cleared this up years ago. Ever since its unfortunate construction in the ’60s, the Hammond building has been an eyesore looming over the epicenter of State College. I’m willing to bet that a good chunk of potential Penn Staters changed their minds after laying eyes on that hunk of junk. I wouldn’t blame them.

Looking at my schedule for this semester, I was struck by the depressing revelation that I would have to return to Hammond for one of my classes. I’d made it years without getting closer than Sackett, so why now? At first, I was sure it was a joke — why would anyone subject me to such torture?

But no, this was no joke, and I am now subjected to the Hammond building on Tuesdays and Thursdays, for the rest of my time at this school. Unfortunate.

As you probably know, the area surrounding Hammond is a warzone, with three-quarters of its perimeter surrounded by a mass of construction sites and loud, off-putting noises. Hammond’s conjoined sibling, Sackett, has been shut down for heavy renovations, as has Kunkle Lounge, the connective tissue between the two buildings, but Hammond still stands in all of its sad glory.

All of this commotion provides anyone trying to concentrate within Hammond a symphony of distractions every second. My class is on the top floor, and every sentence my professor speaks is interrupted by at least one loud bang.

Before my first day of class, I had a problem. How do I even get in? Most of Hammond’s few doors have been blocked by the construction, and the remaining ones are hidden by fences and temporary accommodations. And even if you find a way in, getting out is just as painful.

The place is such a poorly designed maze that I’ve gotten lost on more than one occasion, and almost went through an emergency exit on another. The staircases don’t always hit all the floors, and some go further down than others, requiring an expert to get around. After a week, I’ve resigned to follow my classmates as they leave, hoping they don’t think I’m stalking.

Besides, my class has ten people, and we sit in a room that could easily fit forty. Why? The logic escapes me. I’d rather have class anywhere but there. I’d be happier in a conference room in the library, if we’re being honest.

So, I ask anyone who will listen, why? For a school that throws as much money around as ours does, surely we can find another place to put my class. I don’t even care about the other classes, just get mine out!