Sit-in? No. Study-in.

I walked into the admin building half expecting there to be a security guard by the elevators. "What's your business?" he would ask. And I had planned an answer: "I'm here for a meeting with the deputy provost [whose name I didn't know] on the fifth floor." Hopefully that would get me in. But of course there was no security guard, and I got on the elevator unimpeded.

When I got out on the fifth floor I saw about 15 people wearing white. "I must have missed the memo," I said. But no, there had not been a memo; the shirts had been made by members of STAND for this very event: a study-in in the lobby of President Zimmer's office. That's right. A study-in. How U of C. People bring their laptops, their books, their problem sets, because no one would come for very long if it would mean they couldn't do work.

Now, it is important to note that at no time did we actually see Zimmer's office. His office was behind a door which was in turn behind at least one set of double glass doors. But Zimmer himself occasionally walked by. Ran, I should say. He ran by, ducking his head slightly and trying to seem amiable. He would greet us kindly, and then Alex would shout at him: "Are you ready to divest yet?" and Zimmer would smile and nod nervously and head straight for the stairs so as to avoid waiting for the elevator.

Of course, what more could we expect? He was a math professor, after all, and a math professor certainly doesn't require skill in avoiding protesters.

At various points during the day, one of the Deputy Deans of Students would come in and ask us to clear a path so people get through. "You guys have been great so far," she said at some time in the early afternoon, "so if you could please just keep cooperating with us...we need aisles so people can get through, please someone will trip over these power cords. It's fine that you guys are here, but you need to make sure that the people in this building can do the jobs they need to do."

Each time when she warned us to move, we would mill about aimlessly, looking at each other in disbelief. Doesn't she realize why we're here? The whole point of this thing is to disrupt the people who work in the building. If we wanted to get out of the way, we would protest in our rooms. Once she left, we'd move back to where we'd been before, like commuters who slow down when they see a cop car on the side of the road, then accelerate with abandon as soon as they've passed.