Chapter 15: Registration Day at Notre Dame
- Anthony Carbone
- Jul 22
- 6 min read
Updated: Sep 6
BELIEVE NOTHING YOU HEAR, AND ONLY HALF OF WHAT YOU SEE — A Memoir of Service, Shame, and the Search for Truth
First Official Morning at Fisher Hall
I woke up early on my first official morning at Fisher Hall. The room was still unfamiliar, and everything felt strangely quiet. I slipped out of bed, gathered my shower gear, and walked down the hallway to our section’s men’s room — then next door to the shower room. After cleaning up, I returned to my room, pulled on a pair of jeans and one of my favorite Bad Kreuznach t-shirts, and headed out for my first breakfast at the South Dining Hall.
Breakfast at the South Dining Hall
There seemed to be even more freshmen around than I’d seen the day before. The dining hall had everything — fried eggs, scrambled eggs, SOS (creamed beef on toast), biscuits, Cream of Wheat, cereals, milk, chocolate milk, juices. It was as good as any mess hall I’d ever been to. But the setting — the great hall itself — was almost overwhelming. With its high vaulted ceilings, wood-paneled walls, stained-glass windows, and long tables, it felt like something out of Hogwarts, or a cathedral built for meals.
New Freshmen Move In With the Help of Their Families
After breakfast, I made my way back to Fisher Hall, conveniently located just across from the dining hall on South Quad. By now, more and more freshmen and their families were arriving. One by one, I began meeting my section-mates and future friends — Andy Cordes, Bob Terifay, Matt Bedics, Al Emery… Each arrived flanked by parents and siblings, all of them carrying in boxes, carpets, mini-refrigerators, stereo systems, televisions, and even potted plants.
We all tried to make conversation in between the chaos — chitchat squeezed in between furniture rearranging and teary goodbyes. I smiled and nodded along, but inside, I felt a little lost. I was still homesick, still alone. For the past 17 years, I’d been surrounded constantly by my sisters. The silence was deafening now. They were the ones who usually made the introductions, broke the ice, and filled the space. I realized — maybe for the first time — that from here on out, I was on my own.
Hammes Bookstore
So I decided to get some air and explore campus a bit more. Just across the South Quad, next to the dining hall and near the Main Building, was the Notre Dame Bookstore. When I stepped inside, it was like a wonderland — part souvenir shop, part museum, part temple to all things Notre Dame. Every type of clothing imaginable bore the university logo in a rainbow of blue, gold, and gray. I remember thinking I wanted one of everything.
Later that fall, in October, Coach Dan Devine would surprise everyone by bringing back the historic green-and-gold football uniforms for the first time since the Knute Rockne era in the 1920s. But for now, I just wanted something simple — a navy blue T-shirt with “Notre Dame” and the ND logo in white. That would be my first purchase.
The Souvenirs and Memorabilia
The bookstore had more than just clothes, though. There were shelves of beautiful Notre Dame memorabilia — framed photographs of campus, mugs, scarves, and pennants. And as the academic nerd I’d always been, I was mesmerized by the displays of class rings and diploma frames. I stared at them long enough to imagine my own name printed on one of those crisp, gold-lettered documents.
The Academic Textbooks Await Purchase
In the back half of the store was the real academic core: the textbook section. Each course had a neatly labeled stack of books, arranged by course number, course title, and professor’s name. I hadn’t registered for classes yet, but I knew I’d be back soon to pick out my own stack.
I bought my T-shirt, tucked it into the bag, and made my way back to Fisher Hall, where the move-in mayhem was still going strong. I’d soon need to ask the others about how to register for classes. But for now, I stood quietly among the hustle, holding my first piece of Notre Dame — and wondering what came next.
Freshmen Registration
When I got back to Fisher Hall, I asked my fellow freshmen what to expect next. They handed me the Welcome Weekend itinerary, a neatly folded pamphlet that outlined all the orientation activities for incoming students. Sure enough, one of the biggest items on the schedule was registration.
We were to report in person to the Athletic & Convocation Center — known around campus as the ACC. A group of us from our Fisher Hall section decided to go together. It was a long hike across campus, but spirits were high and the energy of the day carried us forward.
Notre Dame Marching Band Entertained Us
Along the way, we passed the Notre Dame Marching Band out on one of the practice fields. They were in full uniform and in full voice, playing the “Notre Dame Victory March” as we walked past. That was the first time I saw the Irish Guard — tall, stoic figures dressed in traditional kilts, standing proudly in formation. They moved with the band in perfect step, their presence commanding attention like ceremonial sentinels.
The Irish Guard
I later learned the Guard was one of the university’s most beloved traditions. Originally formed in 1951 as the “Irish Pipers,” they became the Irish Guard officially in 1953. In those days, the Guard was made up of tall freshmen — over six-foot-two — who didn’t necessarily play an instrument. That would change decades later, but in 1977, they were still the towering, kilted gatekeepers of Notre Dame pageantry. Seeing them for the first time was a surreal reminder: I was no longer watching Notre Dame from afar — I was in it.
The Athletic & Convocation Center (ACC)
When we arrived at the ACC, we were met with organized chaos. Hundreds of students filled the giant space, forming long, snaking lines. Each line was organized alphabetically by last name, so I headed toward the “C” line and found my place.
Meeting Another Carbone in my Class
As I waited, I struck up a few conversations, the usual freshman questions: Where are you from? What dorm are you in? What are you planning to major in? Then, when I got close to the front of the line, the girl right in front of me turned to the desk and gave her name: “Elizabeth Jean Carbone.” I blinked. “Wait — Carbone?” She turned around and smiled. “Yeah.” I laughed. “Me too. Anthony Carbone. What are the odds?”
With a freshman class of about 1,800 students, it felt like a strange little coincidence that the person standing directly in front of me — out of all those queues, all those names — would share mine. It was the kind of moment that made the university feel just a little smaller, a little more connected, as if fate had its own quirky sense of humor.
When it was my turn at the desk, I was handed a packet of materials that included my assigned academic advisor, a draft class schedule, a campus map, and instructions on how to make schedule changes. Because I was a Preprofessional Studies (Pre-Med) major enrolled in Army ROTC, my schedule was already packed from Monday morning to Friday afternoon.
Between science lectures, biology and chemistry labs, and the early-morning ROTC drill sessions, there wasn’t much room left for electives or experimentation. I already felt the weight of the road ahead.
My One Elective–Deutsch
The one exception was my required language course. I chose German, mostly because I had taken it during my years in high school in Germany. It felt like a small gift to myself — one familiar thread in a semester that would otherwise be tightly choreographed by microscopes, lab coats, and early-morning formations on the quad.
Once my registration was complete, I tucked the schedule into my bag, shook hands with a few other freshmen in my line, and walked back toward Fisher Hall — half-dazed, half-excited. I was now officially a Notre Dame student.
