Over spring break, I found myself walking through a perfectly collegiate campus — 800 miles away from Marquette.

Wandering around Georgetown’s campus was like walking through an advertisement,  breathing in fresh air, basking in the warm sunshine and casually reading the chalked sidewalks and various posters strewn about— and even on— the old gray-stone buildings.

The campus was a perfect depiction of what “college” is, at least as written in novels and portrayed in movies. Students were clearly involved and excited, and bake-sales, grill-outs and promotions were ubiquitous.

A few days later, back at Marquette,  the weather was just as fabulous, the people just as lovely and the buildings slightly newer. And although Marquette is obviously our college experience, I couldn’t help but notice that it was missing that same sort of quintessential college “feel.”

On Georgetown’s campus, as on many other college campuses, poles, walls and sidewalks were cluttered with signs and posters advertising numerous events and organizations on campus. Although Marquette proudly advertises in its publications the high involvement of the student body, to be on our campus without the advantage of a wonderful tour guide, one may be deceived into thinking the opposite is true.

With the exception of a few bulletin boards in the AMU, residence halls and academic buildings, the back of some bathroom stalls and a few table signs in the Brew, our campus is oddly sign-free.

In some ways, it makes sense. For the most part, our campus remains incredibly clean. We are free from any sort of in-your-face posters and advertisements, and the posters we do see are not at all provocative or stimulating — as they are all OSD-approved.

But in ridding ourselves of clutter, we have also rid ourselves of seeing things we disagree with. We can walk around our campus oblivious to anything we don’t already know about.

In fact, Marquette’s campus may be the only place in America where advertisements do not bombard our every sense.

It was not until this year that I realized this was a strategic move by the adults in charge. By only allowing signs that have been approved by some office somewhere, a cap has been placed on what causes students promote and how they do so. In addition, these stipulations have kept walls clutter-free, reduced paper use and held student organizations accountable to the handbook.

Take this week’s MUSG elections: Where have you seen promotion?

Mostly online and on t-shirts, I would guess, as candidates and their campaign teams can only promote their platforms in certain areas and only after a specified date. MUSG elections are more regulated than national elections.

True, the hoops student organizations must jump through to promote and organize can be considered training tools — assuming we are all training to work in a bureaucratic world dominated by regulations.

College is a time to learn, though, not just to be trained. We learn in our classes about revolutionaries who have stood up and spoke out for something: Gandhi, Mother Theresa, Martin Luther King Jr., even St. Ignatius of Loyola.

We learn about people who have made changes and fought for something they found ethical. They did not let their voices be suppressed. And while such leaders were probably not spending their time making eye-catching posters, those are the tools within our means to promote our causes — freely and without restriction, something our founding fathers thought important enough to make our First Amendment.

It seems odd that what we learn in class is not put into practice in our day-to-day experience at Marquette— and even odder that we just abide by such restrictions.

While these rules were put into place with (most likely) the best of intentions, they have ultimately ended up reducing our voice as a student-body, and this is simply unacceptable.

All too often, we become comfortable in our routines and practices. We do not seek outside stimulation. We can ignore the bulletin boards and bathroom stalls and avoid the area outside the library where people stand with fliers. We never have to look at anything we don’t already know about. A direct result of our apathy is the suppression of our voices by the adults in charge.

Jill Vialet, a social entrepreneur and founder of Playworks, came to campus a few years ago and unearthed the administration’s best-kept secret: they have created a student body that does a ton of good, but always asks permission in seeking change. We have been ingrained to do service and make a difference, as long as we have certified approval from Marquette.

News flash: We are adults. We have opinions and organizations that are valid and important.  Promoting these freely does not disrespect the work of our administration, it just gives the appropriate respect to students and their causes. We should be allowed to do so freely — without a stamp of approval.