Student Life Archives

I’m fed up with doing things I don’t want to do. Outside, snow is on the ground, screaming out for a raucous snowball fight, and I cannot heed its call. Instead, I’m stuck in here, in my cluttered, cramped, claustrophobic dorm room, writing papers no TA would want to read and studying for a final that has sadistically snuck up on me (I thought all my finals were in finals week! Is this how they punish you for missing a class?!) So before my stressed-out and utterly lame Saturday slips by, I’m going to take a moment to ask, to plead, to beg my cruel masters to please stop killing my time. All this lousy responsibility has slaughtered my weekend, murdered my week, bloodied the year’s first snow. I was meant to have more fun than I am having right now, don’t you understand that? Dammit, I was born to be free, but I’m being raised a slave.

I can’t help but resent how meaningless this all feels. The research paper I’m about to write will be nothing but a recyclable in two weeks’ time. So why am I doing it? Because I have to. But why would anyone want me to so heinously squander my time? Everyone knows time is a precious and a tragically transient thing. Why take mine away from me? I could walk outside tomorrow and get hit by the Campus Circulation shuttle and all I would have to show for myself would be a poorly written argument for an assignment on our moral obligations to future humans. I have my entire afterlife to be buried, why bury me with all this work? The standard answer is that this is all for my own learning and betterment. I’m expanding my mind, cementing my newfound skills, challenging my mental horizons. Possibly, but I doubt it. I highly doubt it. I feel that I’m simply becoming a more efficient and colorful whiner. Maybe I’ll be a great thinker next year.

Luckily for all of you, I just spent ten of my precious minutes in serious thought. And now, I have the real answer. The hidden truth to this awful “why?” is shockingly insidious. School is where they beat us down, smashing us into a squishy, pliable pulp that can be molded into respectable Wash. U. grads. You probably heard that school is to help prepare us for the “real world,” but that preparation actually has little to do with social or practical skills. It’s a mindset. School is where we are taught that freedom is a privilege, not a right. You have to earn your snowball fights. You do what you’re told or you miss out. You better get responsible and disciplined and self-sacrificing. Or no snowballs for you. And that sucks. I mean, really, really sucks.

I could be a revolutionary and propose that we all go on strike and make snow angels in Brookings Quadrangle. I could fast until Wash. U. students are liberated from oppression (but all this studying makes me so hungry). I could chain myself to the chancellor’s desk or make protest posters or strip down and streak through campus. I could do all these things, I could. But I need to get this paper done, I really do. So hey, anybody with a little free time, any of you who were out there throwing snowballs, if you feel like stepping up to fight the brave fight, you have my blessing.

Tess is a sophomore in Arts & Sciences and a Forum editor. She can be reached via e-mail at forum@studlife.com.

On Dec. 8, 1980, exactly 26 years ago today, John Lennon was murdered in New York City. I thought I’d pay tribute by telling the story.

In 1980, John Lennon reentered public life after a five-year absence from music. From about 1975 to 1980, Lennon released no new music; he chose to be a stay-at-home dad to his second son, Sean, and “bake bread,” as he said. Finally in 1980, he couldn’t stay away from music any longer and released an album titled “Double Fantasy” with his wife, Yoko Ono. The album’s first single, “(Just Like) Starting Over,” reached the Top Five, and the album did very well too. On one song on the album, “Watching The Wheels,” he stated that he was content to “no longer play the game,” but John Lennon was back.

On Dec. 8, Lennon and Ono did a photo shoot for Rolling Stone, a radio interview and work at the recording studio for their next album, “Milk and Honey,” which was eventually released posthumously in 1984. That afternoon, on his way out of his Manhattan apartment building, The Dakota, Lennon stopped to talk and sign autographs for the fans waiting outside the building. Lennon spotted a man named Mark David Chapman standing nearby clutching a copy of “Double Fantasy.” He asked if he wanted the album signed, and Chapman nodded. A photo exists of Lennon signing the album for Chapman. After Lennon and most of the crowd had left, Chapman stayed behind. He waited there the entire day. When Lennon’s son Sean, who was five years old at the time, came home with his nanny, Chapman patted him on the head. At about 10:50 that night, Lennon and Ono’s limousine pulled up to their building. Lennon got out of the car, and as he was walking towards the building, Chapman called out, “Mr. Lennon!” As Lennon turned around, Chapman fired five hollow point bullets at him, four hitting him. Lennon was taken to a hospital by police car and was pronounced dead at 11:15 p.m.

Tonight, hundreds of people will gather at The Strawberry Fields Memorial in a section of Central Park near The Dakota to light candles and play John’s music for hours until the NYPD eventually makes everyone go home. In other countries and cities, there will be similar gatherings. No other pop star has meant so much to so many people. What other pop figure could receive this type of treatment? What made John Lennon so special was not only his genius, but his openness and honesty. His music, unlike many other contemporaries was a “warts and all” reflection of his life.

“I always wrote about me and didn’t really enjoy writing third-person songs about people who lived in concrete flats and things. I like first-person music,” he told Rolling Stone in 1970. He didn’t hold anything back, and he was never afraid to do what he wanted to do. It’s impossible to listen to his music and not feel a personal connection. That’s why the world loves him. He was brilliant, and one can only imagine what he could have accomplished in the last 26 years. Goo Goo G’Joob.

Altin is a junior in Arts & Sciences. He can be reached via e-mail at asila@wustl.edu.

Hopefully these letters appear in a friendly enough font and manner as to put you at ease. And I also hope the words ‘don’t panic’ look familiar – they are the cover of the guide so often referenced in and titled after, Douglas Adams’ book “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.” The book’s cover is emblazoned with “don’t panic” in an attempt to reassure any hitchhiker, stranded on whatever planet he might have found himself on, that all is not lost. There is always a solution to the problem, always a way to get off that planet without losing your head or your luggage. Or your towel, as Adams deems that to be incredibly important. Either way, the message is clear. Don’t panic, and everything will be OK.

Now if only we could all take this advice to heart during exam time.

Don’t get me wrong, I have been a victim of exam panic syndrome. During freshman year, I spent so much time worrying over my first set of college exams that I almost drove myself to tears studying. And after I walked out of the test? Well, that was just an open invitation to pick apart my performance until grades were released. And, you know, all that worrying never accomplished much, nor did it help me feel better. (And I did fine on my exams, by the way.)

So, after some careful reflection spurred by a bout of nervous, self-deprecating babbling brought on by my calc exam (I was never one for math), I realized something. It’s not the exams that are the problem. It’s the attitude with which we approach them. Entering into a study session or the exam itself, with a nervous “I am so going to fail and have to drop out of school” attitude never works well. You end up losing focus on the task at hand and then ultimately not doing as well as you should. It’s all a result of positive thinking. Or rational thinking, at the very least. During that tumultuous freshman year reading week, I realized that when I calmed down and told myself that everything will get done, surprisingly, it did.

Now I know that Wash. U. has a culture of stress. Everywhere I go, people on campus are either complaining to any sympathetic ear about the amount of work they have or are playing the one-up game. It’s a constant competition around here- whoever has the most work due in the shortest amount of time wins. Don’t you think that’s a bit unnecessary? Yes, you are stressed. But so is everyone else. So, instead of trying to see just who is the most stressed of them all (a commemorative sash to the winner!) try to help relieve some of it instead. You’d be surprised at how much more productive you can be.

Exam time is never fun. But it doesn’t have to be painful. It will get done, I promise. Maybe you could even read “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” as a sort of study break. Or an exercise in perspective. I am sure being thrown into the Total Perspective Vortex is much, much worse than anything your professors can throw at you. And, now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a paper to write.

Michelle is a junior in Arts & Sciences. She can be reached via e-mail at mgalbert@artsci.wustl.edu.

Dear Editor:

I would like to rebut a number of points brought up by Ariel Cascio in response to my article appearing in Monday’s issue of Student Life (“Is a snow day at Wash. U. too much to ask?” Dec. 4, 2006).

1. While it is nice that one of the housekeepers was shoveling when Cascio returned from class on Thursday, the bulk of the snow, as we all know, did not hit until overnight. This shoveling was most likely not significant compared to the amount of snow that fell later on.

2. The fact that Cascio noticed “multiple clear paths” on the South 40 as a result of “several men shoveling snow and even bashing away at the ice” does not convince me that enough paths were cleared elsewhere. I know they were not, as long as I was on campus from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m.

3. Paths may have been salted during Cascio’s 1 p.m. class; however, this is too late. If the University expects people to move about the campus at 8 a.m. (and earlier), the paths need to be at least relatively walkable by then. If, as Casio notes, salting is impossible earlier and paths cannot be made safe, then the campus should be closed.

Cascio states: “The burden of foul weather falls more heavily on faculty and staff who not only have to navigate around campus, but also to and from campus.” I never doubted this in my article. Of course it is important that people can get to campus safely on the roads. But just because you can get to campus, it doesn’t mean you can get around campus.

Cascio also writes: “If the University truly closes and students are not expected to attend class, we can’t expect the staff to endure weather conditions deemed unfit for residents.” Solution? Close the campus, and no one endures any weather conditions.

The bottom line remains that while steps were taken by the University to clean up the campus, they were insignificant and inadequate. Yes, the campus was eventually cleaned up, but not enough so by the beginning of the day on Friday.

– Andrew Zenker
Class of 2008

As the semester draws to a close, I am entering the final throes of a mighty struggle. It’s been a grueling few months, and I don’t know if I’ll last to the end of the year. My reserves are low, my spirits lower. My situation is dire. But I’m so close. So close to finally doing something that was worth doing, something I could tell my children about one day.

Sometimes, I’ll tell people about what I’ve been trying to accomplish, and they’ll scoff and look away. Clearly, few people can appreciate the magnitude of my efforts. But I’m sure those special few do exist, so I’m writing this article to let them know, and to strengthen my own resolve in this undertaking.

Since the beginning of the year I have not done laundry at Wash. U. I have, however, washed my clothes twice: once over fall break and once while I was visiting my grandmother. (And OK, so I washed a pair of pants and a shirt over Thanksgiving. But I really don’t think that counts, in the grand scheme of things.) At the beginning of the semester I deliberately did not purchase any laundry detergent, I haven’t broken into that free sample from ResLife and I have not spent a single quarter on cleaning or drying my vestments.

Several factors have aided me in my efforts. For one thing, I have collected, over the course of my 20 years on Earth, an extraordinary amount of clothing. Not only that, but I will wear each of those garments many times over before they become far too filthy to wear. Frequent showers help – let me tell you. And finally, when going home for a break, I drive. Although it may not seem an obvious weapon in my war on laundry, it has proved more than crucial. When packing to go home, I don’t have to consider the size or form of my luggage: I simply grab my gargantuan canvas laundry bag, throw it in the trunk, and then I’m on my way. I don’t even bother to bring home clean clothes anymore. Although by the time a break arrives they are few and far between.

People have questioned my actions, and I’ll admit it: it would be nice to wear clean clothes once in a while. But today is Dec. 8, and I go home on the 20th. That’s only 12 more days – not even two weeks. I have a pair of pants that are really almost clean, and a few odd shirts that I’ve been too embarrassed to wear before now. My sheets, I’m sure, will last me until spring break, and my towel still smells fresh. Once you get the socks softened, warmed, and on your feet it’s impossible to tell that they’re dirty. The weakest aspect of my wardrobe is by far my underwear. My current supplies should last a while, but as hardy as my undergarments’ elastic is, I don’t think I can stretch them until winter break. Well, if worst comes to worst, I’ll forgo underwear and go commando.

The next 12 days won’t be easy. My socks have stiffened into twisted, contorted forms, at night my pants crawl across my floor and hide and my shirts are plotting a coup d’‚tat. And my sheets. I’m almost certain they were the light tan color they are now when I got them, but they very well may have been white. My dresser is nearly empty, and my laundry basket is groaning under the weight of filthy clothing.

No matter: my resolve is stiffer than my socks, more plentiful than my shirts and even livelier than my pants. I will persevere, even if it means rendering every last article of clothing I own entirely unwearable.

So come the 20th, I will have gone an entire semester without doing laundry at school. I won’t deny that I expect endless accolades and ample admiration. If you want to congratulate me, I’ll be the guy taking the Chemistry final completely naked.

Caleb is a sophomore in Arts & Sciences. He can be reached via e-mail at ctobrien@wustl.edu.

That we fail to offer the option of mixed-gender housing shows that, as a University, we are failing to treat individuals with different sexual orientations or gender identities as equals. In a progressive community that claims to affirm diversity and respect identity, a policy that entrenches the idea that heterosexuality is the only identity worth considering when making practical decisions, should not be tolerated. Because the housing policy displays such a belief, and also because in general the University should afford its students the respect let them choose who they live with regardless of gender, Washington University needs to open to students the possibility of mixed-gender housing.

The desire for a mixed-gender housing option is not new. Associate Director of Residential Life Rob Wild stated that men and women have been asking to live together for the past ten years, and that more recently transgendered students had informed ResLife that mixed-gendered housing options would allow them to live more comfortably and potentially spare them the obligation of having to identify themselves. In response to this student input, ResLife assigned the Room Selection Task Force to look into the possibility. The Task Force proposed that the University adopt a pilot program in the Village and Greenway Apartments to test mixed-gender housing. The administration turned down the proposal on the basis that it was unsure how the student body would react to the idea. Recently, ResLife put out a survey to the student body asking students for their feelings about mixed-gender housing. While only 32 percent of students responded, 67 percent of these students voiced support for mixed-gender housing, 22 percent voiced indifference to the idea and 11 percent opposed the idea altogether. 74 percent of these students also said they would consider taking advantage of mixed-gender housing were the option available to upperclassmen. Armed with this information, ResLife will once again ask for a pilot program to be made available in the spring, and the University should allow th option.

The most common objection to mixed-gendered housing is that boyfriends and girlfriends will live together, creating problems. There are two problems with this objection. First, if by disallowing mixed-gender housing the University wishes to create better living situations by ensuring couples do not live together, it sends a strong statement that it does not consider same-sex couples to be legitimate or as important as opposite-sex couples. Second, by assuming a parental role in overseeing students’ housing choices, the University denies its students a respect they deserve – that as adults they are capable of making intelligent decisions about their living situations. Additionally, Wild said that schools offering mixed-gender housing had reported few problems resulting from couples choosing to live together.

Any conflicts that would occur from couples choosing to live together would be that couple’s own fault, so there is no reason to deny students who want to live together the option to do so, particularly if the students have claimed that not having this option is a hardship as a result of their gender identity. Though ResLife will sometimes be able to make exceptions for individual students who claim a mixed-gender housing arrangement will better accommodate their specific needs as a result of their sexual orientation or identity, it is problematic that this is merely an exception to the rule. It first forces students to come forward and identify themselves in order to make the claim, and second, it incorrectly says that there’s something special or abnormal about the individual who does so.

As a student body, we have the opportunity to influence the administration’s decision about implementing this practice. As students we also have an obligation to each other to ensure that everyone within this community is afforded respect and equality. Therefore, we should support a change to the existing single-gender housing policy in order to further both of those values in the hope that Washington University will be able to put into practice the ideals to which it gives lip service.