By Lisa Phillips
Sports Editor
FEATURE
Published May 2010
It’s 7:30 a.m. on Monday morning. No sane college student would ever be up at this hour. But I’m crawling out of bed. Yay, 8:30 a.m. court dates.
Two weeks ago, I wrote about being arraigned. My house threw a K party, the cops showed up, and my name was on the noise violation we received. Turns out noise violations are actually misdemeanors in Kalamazoo, so I’ve been contesting the misdemeanor.
Today, I was scheduled for my pretrial conference, which involves meeting with the city prosecutor to see if the case can be resolved. There are 3 options: a plea of guilt is entered, charges are dropped, or the case proceeds to court.
Lesson #1 of pretrial: Arrive early. I strolled into the courtroom punctually; there had been no point in arriving early to the arraignment, we had faced the judge in a random order. Not so with the city prosecutor: she went by order of arrival. I signed my name 14th on a list of about 30. Getting to that 14th spot took almost two hours.
The drill was straightforward: talk to the prosecutor in her office, and then appear in front of the judge. In the downtime between cases, the atmosphere was almost relaxed; the judge rambled on about everything from golf trips to South Park (he explained the concept of “Pulling a Kenny”) from his seat in front.
Awful TV puns aside, I was impressed by the compassion he showed for those entering guilty pleas. People asked for extended payment options for fines and got them. Twice, he waived fines in favor of community service for those who couldn’t pay.
Yet, 10 minutes before I faced the prosecutor, it was quickly evident that these proceedings were not to be taken lightly. A woman had received successive noise violations; the judge had given her 4 months to move from her apartment, and she hadn’t. An heated shouting match ensued, where she argued that she hadn’t had time, and he told her that he didn’t care and was throwing her into jail immediately. She had 5 children at home.
Great. Woman sent to jail for the same misdemeanor I’m contesting. My heart dropped into my stomach. “Phillips?” The city prosecutor, a stout woman radiating authority, called my name. Leaving the ruckus behind, I shuffled to her office.
The prosecutor read my file. “This is your chance to state anything I should hear before considering this case.” I said what probably every college student contesting a misdemeanor says. We didn’t mean to disturb the peace. The party got out of hand. I thought I was being responsible by talking to the cops. Yada, yada. Despite my earnestness, she started writing my sentence before I even finished. She had heard this before. She only spoke once, sharply contradicting me when I said we hadn’t meant to throw a party: “You did mean to throw a party. Be honest.” I quickly corrected myself.
I received a “delayed sentence.” In exchange for pleading guilty, I need to complete 15 hours of community service. If, in 3 months, those hours are completed and I receive no further criminal violations, I return to court on September 1 and the charges are dropped.
Three more months until this whole thing is over. But, no more misdemeanor. I’d have a clean criminal file once again.
I returned to the courtroom and faced the judge. He was amiable, almost fatherly, but I probably looked terrified.
“By entering a plea, you’re not going to have a trial, do you understand that?” Yes.
“You are giving up the rights listed on your rights sheet, do you understand that?” Yes.
I raised my right hand and was sworn in. “What do you plead?” Guilty, your honor.
I walked out of the courtroom after 2.5 hours and was unsurprised to find a bright yellow envelope with a lovely $10 fine on my car windshield. If there’s one part of the judicial system you can always predict, it’s the Kalamazoo Parking Police.
But, what did I learn this time? Always carry a ton of quarters. No, but seriously, Take the law seriously.
The judge was nice on many occasions. But with a flick of the wrist, fates can change. It’s been a ton of hassle for what I thought was a minor infraction. But the same process is necessary for contesting all kinds of petty crimes we may underestimate: speeding, public intoxication, MIPs, DUI’s, disorderly conduct; all of these are misdemeanors. While we might brush off when we see cops arrive at parties, figuring they’ve got more important things to do than hassle college students, in reality, they can give us a ton of pain.
So, know the rules. Know your rights. Know the process. Protect yourself. The law’s not something to trivialize, it’s something to respect.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Lisa's Adventures in the Legal System, Part 1 - The Arraignment
By LISA PHILLIPS
Sports Editor
FEATURE
Published May 2010
I'm walking up to a looming NeoClassical building, white pillars dominating the front facade. I've passed this building 100 times on the way to downtown Kalamazoo, but I've never been in. That's because I've never been to court before. Until today. Just call me Lisa "Misdemeanor" Phillips.
I'm here because of a noise violation we received for throwing a Kalamazoo party on a recent Saturday. Noise demeanors are an occasional problem for K seniors hosting house parties; it’s a consequence of the entire college partying population attending the same party every weekend.
Yet, what many students may not be aware of is that these are misdemeanors in Kalamazoo. I thought I was being the responsible one that night by talking to the cops and helping dissolve the party, but I was also receiving an infraction that goes on my permanent record. So, at the prompting of friends, I decided to contest it.
I had never set foot in a court before. First rule of the court building? No liquids allowed. The security guards laughed as I downed my entire mug of coffee in a matter of seconds outside the metal detector.
After passing security, I stood in the cavernous lobby a bit clueless as to what to do next. It wasn’t like I hadn’t tried to prepare, but search "noise violation" or "misdemeanor" on the City of Kalamazoo website, or the Department of Public Safety website, and nothing comes up. My ticket only said I had to show up on this day; nothing about what I had to do. The only way I knew anything about the process was talking to friends who had gone through it, and through reading WMU’s Department of Student Affairs "Party: How to...in Kalamazoo" website.
I followed the steady stream of everyone from businessmen to college students to a sheet detailing courtroom locations. I was in Courtroom L. As I walked towards the door, a woman handed me a form, asking “Are you being arraigned?” Apparently, I was.
Arraignment. Another term that returns no relevant information on the city website and is not mentioned anywhere on my ticket. It’s what happens before the pretrial, where the charges against you are read in front of a judge and you enter your plea.
I sat down in a courtroom full of about 30 individuals ranging from bedraggled college students to the homeless of Kalamazoo. The judge went through our cases one-by-one. Although he seemed a bit bored, he was genuinely trying to make people aware of their options. Nevertheless, it seemed that many didn’t know the ramification s of pleading “guilty” or “not guilty.” There’s a lack of available information about the process of each different infraction. Since these were lesser criminal cases, most individuals did not have legal counsel before entering a plea.
After an hour, it was my turn. I stepped up to the podium as the judge read my file. Oh gosh, I have a criminal file, I thought. “How do you plead?” he asked. “Not guilty, Your Honor.” I was given a date for a pretrial hearing, where I will meet with the prosecutor to determine whether a settlement can be reached. But what have I learned from this first foray into the Kalamazoo legal system? How fortunate I really am.
I had resources to explain to me the process of contesting a misdemeanor. I had Internet access. I knew how to research. I had friends who had gone through the same procedure. But what if I didn’t have these sources of knowledge? I would be walking into the court building effectively blind, without understanding of what to prepare or how to plea. And that seemed to happen to many people in that courtroom, particularly those less fortunate who may need the help more than anything.
Also, I’ve realized how important it is for college students to be aware of criminal charges and of the court process. Ignoring the fact that college students party is illogical; in a college town like Kalamazoo, undoubtedly at least some K students will come in contact with the law, in the form of MIP’s, DUI’s, disorderly conduct, or noise violations (all are misdemeanors). I don’t know if it’s the responsibility of student organizations, the college, or individuals themselves, but we should be aware of what we can be charged with, and how to handle the charges if we are. It’s a section of knowledge that classes don’t teach, yet we all should learn.
I stepped back out of the courthouse into the crisp morning air, my first court experience complete. But my adventures in the Kalamazoo legal system are not over yet; I’ll return in two weeks, for the pretrial hearing. I glanced down at the yellow sheet in my hand, which detailed the process of my next appearance. I’m learning about the court system by doing, but I wish I wasn’t.
Sports Editor
FEATURE
Published May 2010
I'm walking up to a looming NeoClassical building, white pillars dominating the front facade. I've passed this building 100 times on the way to downtown Kalamazoo, but I've never been in. That's because I've never been to court before. Until today. Just call me Lisa "Misdemeanor" Phillips.
I'm here because of a noise violation we received for throwing a Kalamazoo party on a recent Saturday. Noise demeanors are an occasional problem for K seniors hosting house parties; it’s a consequence of the entire college partying population attending the same party every weekend.
Yet, what many students may not be aware of is that these are misdemeanors in Kalamazoo. I thought I was being the responsible one that night by talking to the cops and helping dissolve the party, but I was also receiving an infraction that goes on my permanent record. So, at the prompting of friends, I decided to contest it.
I had never set foot in a court before. First rule of the court building? No liquids allowed. The security guards laughed as I downed my entire mug of coffee in a matter of seconds outside the metal detector.
After passing security, I stood in the cavernous lobby a bit clueless as to what to do next. It wasn’t like I hadn’t tried to prepare, but search "noise violation" or "misdemeanor" on the City of Kalamazoo website, or the Department of Public Safety website, and nothing comes up. My ticket only said I had to show up on this day; nothing about what I had to do. The only way I knew anything about the process was talking to friends who had gone through it, and through reading WMU’s Department of Student Affairs "Party: How to...in Kalamazoo" website.
I followed the steady stream of everyone from businessmen to college students to a sheet detailing courtroom locations. I was in Courtroom L. As I walked towards the door, a woman handed me a form, asking “Are you being arraigned?” Apparently, I was.
Arraignment. Another term that returns no relevant information on the city website and is not mentioned anywhere on my ticket. It’s what happens before the pretrial, where the charges against you are read in front of a judge and you enter your plea.
I sat down in a courtroom full of about 30 individuals ranging from bedraggled college students to the homeless of Kalamazoo. The judge went through our cases one-by-one. Although he seemed a bit bored, he was genuinely trying to make people aware of their options. Nevertheless, it seemed that many didn’t know the ramification s of pleading “guilty” or “not guilty.” There’s a lack of available information about the process of each different infraction. Since these were lesser criminal cases, most individuals did not have legal counsel before entering a plea.
After an hour, it was my turn. I stepped up to the podium as the judge read my file. Oh gosh, I have a criminal file, I thought. “How do you plead?” he asked. “Not guilty, Your Honor.” I was given a date for a pretrial hearing, where I will meet with the prosecutor to determine whether a settlement can be reached. But what have I learned from this first foray into the Kalamazoo legal system? How fortunate I really am.
I had resources to explain to me the process of contesting a misdemeanor. I had Internet access. I knew how to research. I had friends who had gone through the same procedure. But what if I didn’t have these sources of knowledge? I would be walking into the court building effectively blind, without understanding of what to prepare or how to plea. And that seemed to happen to many people in that courtroom, particularly those less fortunate who may need the help more than anything.
Also, I’ve realized how important it is for college students to be aware of criminal charges and of the court process. Ignoring the fact that college students party is illogical; in a college town like Kalamazoo, undoubtedly at least some K students will come in contact with the law, in the form of MIP’s, DUI’s, disorderly conduct, or noise violations (all are misdemeanors). I don’t know if it’s the responsibility of student organizations, the college, or individuals themselves, but we should be aware of what we can be charged with, and how to handle the charges if we are. It’s a section of knowledge that classes don’t teach, yet we all should learn.
I stepped back out of the courthouse into the crisp morning air, my first court experience complete. But my adventures in the Kalamazoo legal system are not over yet; I’ll return in two weeks, for the pretrial hearing. I glanced down at the yellow sheet in my hand, which detailed the process of my next appearance. I’m learning about the court system by doing, but I wish I wasn’t.
The Implications of Non-Major Courses - Examining the Science/Non-Science Divide at K
By LISA PHILLIPS
Sports Editor
Published May 2010
Every Tuesday and Thursday, I trudge across campus to brave the famed Dow building. I’m in my first ever Biology course at K.
But if I told that to a Biology major, he or she would scoff. A snide comment along the lines of “That’s not really biology,” would follow. I’m in a non-majors class. Aimed at teaching all us non-Dow residents some basic stuff about science, it’s not nearly as painful as the stories I’ve heard about the hard science classes at K. In fact, it’s a relatively enjoyable way to learn more about Biology without the pains of 8 a.m. lab.
The impetus behind non-major courses in the hard sciences is obvious. It gives students who wouldn’t necessarily take science courses a way to test out the discipline. Many of the intro hard science courses are known as difficult “weeder” classes, designed to filter out those who aren’t serious about continuing with physics, biology, or chemistry. Therefore, the hard sciences (astutely, I think) decided to offer easier, more worldly applicable, classes for students who enjoy science but don’t want to major in it.
It’s a wise decision: these courses undoubtedly allow for a more diverse group of students to enjoy the hard sciences. But why are the sciences the only ones with designated non-majors courses? While other disciplines may have classes that are reputed be easy, only the hard sciences have classes specifically designed for those outside the major, such as the aptly titled “Biology: Stuff You Need to Know.”
Why would this be? It’s worth acknowledging that the way the hard sciences are structured may necessitate non-majors courses more than other disciplines. The intro courses are designed to be highly rigorous, and the courses build upon each other. It would be impossible for me to take an upper level chemistry course, for instance, but I could probably take an upper level course in other disciplines if I wanted to.
Yet, what about hard science majors who want to take courses outside their major? If roles were reversed, and I was a Biology major interested in Political Science, I’d have to take a course that majors would have to take, alongside seasoned Political Science majors. There’s no room for experimenting just to learn a bit more about Political Science; there’s no “Stuff You Need to Know” for Psychology or ANSO. For hard science majors to explore other disciplines, they have to take regular classes. We’re holding them to the same standards as majors in these disciplines; an unfair burden, I’d say.
Furthermore, we seem to assume that hard science majors can, indeed, adjust to classes outside of their own disciplines. And this leads to the second implication of having non-majors courses exclusively in the hard sciences: the inherent value judgments that arise. Are we assuming that science majors are better able to adapt to different disciplines, or that non-science courses are easier and less sequential, or that other disciplines aren’t rigorous enough to necessitate non-majors courses, or that non-science majors couldn’t survive intro science classes? And, are we implying that there needs to be a separation between science majors and non-science majors even within the science discipline, one that doesn’t exist in other subject areas? All these have value judgments that perpetuate a hard science / non-science divide that we all know exists to some extent at the college.
So, what to do with the concentration of non-majors courses in the hard sciences? There are really only two solutions: either equalize the playing field by getting rid of non-major courses in the sciences, or equalize the playing field by adding more non-major courses in general. I’d support either, but acknowledge the latter is more likely. The reasoning behind non-majors courses is to offer a way to explore other disciplines, to provide a snapshot of different subject areas. If we truly want to have an open curriculum that allows anyone to take a class in a discipline they’re interested in, we can certainly make the possibility more inviting.
Since I suspect that this will not occur, it is worth noting that by only having non-major classes in the hard sciences, we are indeed perpetuating a separation, a value judgment on the rigor of different academic disciplines, one that may only darken an invisible line between Dow and the rest of campus.
Sports Editor
Published May 2010
Every Tuesday and Thursday, I trudge across campus to brave the famed Dow building. I’m in my first ever Biology course at K.
But if I told that to a Biology major, he or she would scoff. A snide comment along the lines of “That’s not really biology,” would follow. I’m in a non-majors class. Aimed at teaching all us non-Dow residents some basic stuff about science, it’s not nearly as painful as the stories I’ve heard about the hard science classes at K. In fact, it’s a relatively enjoyable way to learn more about Biology without the pains of 8 a.m. lab.
The impetus behind non-major courses in the hard sciences is obvious. It gives students who wouldn’t necessarily take science courses a way to test out the discipline. Many of the intro hard science courses are known as difficult “weeder” classes, designed to filter out those who aren’t serious about continuing with physics, biology, or chemistry. Therefore, the hard sciences (astutely, I think) decided to offer easier, more worldly applicable, classes for students who enjoy science but don’t want to major in it.
It’s a wise decision: these courses undoubtedly allow for a more diverse group of students to enjoy the hard sciences. But why are the sciences the only ones with designated non-majors courses? While other disciplines may have classes that are reputed be easy, only the hard sciences have classes specifically designed for those outside the major, such as the aptly titled “Biology: Stuff You Need to Know.”
Why would this be? It’s worth acknowledging that the way the hard sciences are structured may necessitate non-majors courses more than other disciplines. The intro courses are designed to be highly rigorous, and the courses build upon each other. It would be impossible for me to take an upper level chemistry course, for instance, but I could probably take an upper level course in other disciplines if I wanted to.
Yet, what about hard science majors who want to take courses outside their major? If roles were reversed, and I was a Biology major interested in Political Science, I’d have to take a course that majors would have to take, alongside seasoned Political Science majors. There’s no room for experimenting just to learn a bit more about Political Science; there’s no “Stuff You Need to Know” for Psychology or ANSO. For hard science majors to explore other disciplines, they have to take regular classes. We’re holding them to the same standards as majors in these disciplines; an unfair burden, I’d say.
Furthermore, we seem to assume that hard science majors can, indeed, adjust to classes outside of their own disciplines. And this leads to the second implication of having non-majors courses exclusively in the hard sciences: the inherent value judgments that arise. Are we assuming that science majors are better able to adapt to different disciplines, or that non-science courses are easier and less sequential, or that other disciplines aren’t rigorous enough to necessitate non-majors courses, or that non-science majors couldn’t survive intro science classes? And, are we implying that there needs to be a separation between science majors and non-science majors even within the science discipline, one that doesn’t exist in other subject areas? All these have value judgments that perpetuate a hard science / non-science divide that we all know exists to some extent at the college.
So, what to do with the concentration of non-majors courses in the hard sciences? There are really only two solutions: either equalize the playing field by getting rid of non-major courses in the sciences, or equalize the playing field by adding more non-major courses in general. I’d support either, but acknowledge the latter is more likely. The reasoning behind non-majors courses is to offer a way to explore other disciplines, to provide a snapshot of different subject areas. If we truly want to have an open curriculum that allows anyone to take a class in a discipline they’re interested in, we can certainly make the possibility more inviting.
Since I suspect that this will not occur, it is worth noting that by only having non-major classes in the hard sciences, we are indeed perpetuating a separation, a value judgment on the rigor of different academic disciplines, one that may only darken an invisible line between Dow and the rest of campus.
Senioritus: Fact or Myth? A Scientific-ish Discussion
By Lisa Phillips
Sports Editor
Published April 2010
It’s Monday night and there’s about a hundred things I should be doing. I should be reading about hegemonic stability theory for International Political Economy. Or doing my reading for Urban Sociology. Or working on my SIP presentation.
Am I doing any of these things? Of course not. I’m watching “The Bachelor” with my roommates, attempting to start this article that was due yesterday. Ah, the joys of Senioritus.
As seniors enter into their last quarter at K, a certain ailment has spread throughout the graduating class. Whenever a senior is behind on an assignment, is failing at responsibility, or in general is apathetic towards anything related to school, the explanation is the same. “Sorry, I have Senioritus.”
This mystifying disease affects large populations of the senior class; in my own (very scientific) poll, 100% of seniors acknowledged the existence of such an ailment. It’s equated to an inescapable sickness, a plague of sorts. Just like Mononucleosis destroys one’s energy level, Senioritus sucks the academic motivation right out of us.
Skeptics would say that this is not actually a real disease, but rather an excuse to justify slacking off. But, is there more to it than that? Let’s consider the possible explanations.
1. The senior class has made up and promoted the idea of Senioritus as an excuse to not do work.
This conclusion is common among faculty at K, who frequent do not (for some reason) accept the medical condition of Senioritus as a reason for late assignments or sub-par work. Seniors need something to blame for the fact that they can’t self-motivate, so they made up a ridiculously-named disease.
Yet, it is worth noting that the apathy level currently displayed by seniors is uncharacteristic for many. I would argue that many members of the senior class have demonstrated over the last four years, through their classes and their SIPs, that they actually are hard-working. And yet, we’re still plagued by apathy as of late. Therefore, operating under the assumption that many seniors were not formerly slackers, there must something more pushing seniors towards academic lethargy.
2. The weather is responsible for senior apathy, not some mythical disease called Senioritus.
It’s spring quarter and lots of things work against us getting our work done. We’ve just endured a dreadfully long and cold winter, and now the sun is shining. The birds are chirping. The last thing everyone wants to do is be cooped up in the library doing work.
Yet, this doesn’t explain why seniors are so disproportionally apathetic as compared to the other classes. Glorious spring weather kills everyone’s motivation, from first-years to the upperclassman. Something else must be contributing to this mysterious disease.
3. We’re just much more efficient at getting our work done.
It’s not that seniors are slacking. It’s just that we’re better at doing our work in less time. We’re faster at preparing for class and completing our assignments. Maybe, in these last 4 years at K, we actually have improved our studying skills.
Yet, this explanation assumes that we are, indeed, still doing all of our work as thoroughly as we have in the past. And, for many seniors, this may not be true – in fact, many seniors use Senioritus as an explanation for not doing any work at all. Another source of Senioritus, and arguably the most important one, must be considered.
4. K College burns you out.
We seniors just all did SIPs, many of which were the lengths of masters’ theses. Most of us just endured 400-level senior seminars. Many of us took Comps. We are stressing about job searching and graduate school applications. Plus, we’re busy getting those LAC’s and fulfilling those last-minute graduation requirements.
Does K College throw so much at the seniors as to destroy their motivation to do anything? This explanation is probably the most convincing as of yet: we’re at the point in our academic careers where we need a break. Yet, if we’ve done so much work in the past, there’s no reason that we shouldn’t be able to do it now. There’s not a 4-year expiration date on academic motivation, as far as I know.
5. It’s a diagnosable disease.
Is Senioritus just a combination of factors working against the senior class, or an actual health condition? The debate rages on, but it seems that nothing can completely explain the deep lethargy pervading the senior class. Perhaps it really is an unsolvable medical mystery.
Yet, at least I finished this article, despite checking my Facebook about 200 times. Apparently, with a little concentration, anything is possible. Take that, Senioritus.
Sports Editor
Published April 2010
It’s Monday night and there’s about a hundred things I should be doing. I should be reading about hegemonic stability theory for International Political Economy. Or doing my reading for Urban Sociology. Or working on my SIP presentation.
Am I doing any of these things? Of course not. I’m watching “The Bachelor” with my roommates, attempting to start this article that was due yesterday. Ah, the joys of Senioritus.
As seniors enter into their last quarter at K, a certain ailment has spread throughout the graduating class. Whenever a senior is behind on an assignment, is failing at responsibility, or in general is apathetic towards anything related to school, the explanation is the same. “Sorry, I have Senioritus.”
This mystifying disease affects large populations of the senior class; in my own (very scientific) poll, 100% of seniors acknowledged the existence of such an ailment. It’s equated to an inescapable sickness, a plague of sorts. Just like Mononucleosis destroys one’s energy level, Senioritus sucks the academic motivation right out of us.
Skeptics would say that this is not actually a real disease, but rather an excuse to justify slacking off. But, is there more to it than that? Let’s consider the possible explanations.
1. The senior class has made up and promoted the idea of Senioritus as an excuse to not do work.
This conclusion is common among faculty at K, who frequent do not (for some reason) accept the medical condition of Senioritus as a reason for late assignments or sub-par work. Seniors need something to blame for the fact that they can’t self-motivate, so they made up a ridiculously-named disease.
Yet, it is worth noting that the apathy level currently displayed by seniors is uncharacteristic for many. I would argue that many members of the senior class have demonstrated over the last four years, through their classes and their SIPs, that they actually are hard-working. And yet, we’re still plagued by apathy as of late. Therefore, operating under the assumption that many seniors were not formerly slackers, there must something more pushing seniors towards academic lethargy.
2. The weather is responsible for senior apathy, not some mythical disease called Senioritus.
It’s spring quarter and lots of things work against us getting our work done. We’ve just endured a dreadfully long and cold winter, and now the sun is shining. The birds are chirping. The last thing everyone wants to do is be cooped up in the library doing work.
Yet, this doesn’t explain why seniors are so disproportionally apathetic as compared to the other classes. Glorious spring weather kills everyone’s motivation, from first-years to the upperclassman. Something else must be contributing to this mysterious disease.
3. We’re just much more efficient at getting our work done.
It’s not that seniors are slacking. It’s just that we’re better at doing our work in less time. We’re faster at preparing for class and completing our assignments. Maybe, in these last 4 years at K, we actually have improved our studying skills.
Yet, this explanation assumes that we are, indeed, still doing all of our work as thoroughly as we have in the past. And, for many seniors, this may not be true – in fact, many seniors use Senioritus as an explanation for not doing any work at all. Another source of Senioritus, and arguably the most important one, must be considered.
4. K College burns you out.
We seniors just all did SIPs, many of which were the lengths of masters’ theses. Most of us just endured 400-level senior seminars. Many of us took Comps. We are stressing about job searching and graduate school applications. Plus, we’re busy getting those LAC’s and fulfilling those last-minute graduation requirements.
Does K College throw so much at the seniors as to destroy their motivation to do anything? This explanation is probably the most convincing as of yet: we’re at the point in our academic careers where we need a break. Yet, if we’ve done so much work in the past, there’s no reason that we shouldn’t be able to do it now. There’s not a 4-year expiration date on academic motivation, as far as I know.
5. It’s a diagnosable disease.
Is Senioritus just a combination of factors working against the senior class, or an actual health condition? The debate rages on, but it seems that nothing can completely explain the deep lethargy pervading the senior class. Perhaps it really is an unsolvable medical mystery.
Yet, at least I finished this article, despite checking my Facebook about 200 times. Apparently, with a little concentration, anything is possible. Take that, Senioritus.
The State of the Weight Room Address
By Lisa Phillips
Sports Editor
Published March 2010
My fellow Americans of Kalamazoo College, our weight room is in dire straights.
I’m not a college athlete. I’m not training for a competition; I’m not lifting to bulk up for sports. I don’t have a claim to be in the weight room other than for the pure enjoyment of exercise. Staying fit helps me stay sane. The benefits of exercise are enormous: it reduces stress, increases energy, improves endurance, helps students relax and feel good about themselves; the list goes on and on.
Exercise is something K as a community and as a college should prioritize for both the mental and physical health of the student population. And this includes facilities that allow students the ability and capacity to exercise when they want. The Kalamazoo College weight room falls short of this function.
The weight room is small. Many times of the year, this isn’t really that problematic: with the Juniors gone for the majority of the year on Study Abroad, our campus population really isn't that big.
But, in the winter, when even the most avid runners are occasionally relegated to treadmill running, it becomes a frequent fight for the equipment. With only four treadmills, it’s hard to find space: lines form for the cardio machines. The problem is exacerbated by the fact that frequently, a portion the weight room equipment is broken. Ellipticals are often out of commission. Students shouldn’t have to compete to be able to exercise.
Plus, having only one weight room for both athletes and non-athletes is problematic. When there are football players, baseball players, and the entire men’s basketball team all lifting at once, plus non-athletes who just like to stay in shape, it’s physically difficult for everyone to navigate around the space with so many bodies. Athletes should have the space they need to train for competition, and non-athletes should also have the space to stay fit and healthy, without overcrowding.
I am entirely aware that Kalamazoo College knows of this problem, as a renovation of Anderson Athletic Center is in the planning stages. But it can’t come soon enough. Kalamazoo needs a better weight room. More space. More machines. Rooms for both athletes and non-athletes. If the college is to truly acknowledge the importance of athletics and the overwhelming benefits of exercise for the health of a campus as a whole, a major overhaul is needed.
There are also small steps we as a community can do right now. The college should prioritize making sure that all equipment functions at all times. It is ridiculous that with so few machines that some of them should be broken. Students can also practice better weight room etiquette. Simple steps such as racking weights after using machines, putting away towels and dumbbells after use, can help the weight room function more smoothly.
Yes, my fellow Kalamazoo-ians, the weight room is in need of reform. An improved weight room would truly reflect Kalamazoo’s commitment to fostering both competitive athletes and healthy, happy students.
Sports Editor
Published March 2010
My fellow Americans of Kalamazoo College, our weight room is in dire straights.
I’m not a college athlete. I’m not training for a competition; I’m not lifting to bulk up for sports. I don’t have a claim to be in the weight room other than for the pure enjoyment of exercise. Staying fit helps me stay sane. The benefits of exercise are enormous: it reduces stress, increases energy, improves endurance, helps students relax and feel good about themselves; the list goes on and on.
Exercise is something K as a community and as a college should prioritize for both the mental and physical health of the student population. And this includes facilities that allow students the ability and capacity to exercise when they want. The Kalamazoo College weight room falls short of this function.
The weight room is small. Many times of the year, this isn’t really that problematic: with the Juniors gone for the majority of the year on Study Abroad, our campus population really isn't that big.
But, in the winter, when even the most avid runners are occasionally relegated to treadmill running, it becomes a frequent fight for the equipment. With only four treadmills, it’s hard to find space: lines form for the cardio machines. The problem is exacerbated by the fact that frequently, a portion the weight room equipment is broken. Ellipticals are often out of commission. Students shouldn’t have to compete to be able to exercise.
Plus, having only one weight room for both athletes and non-athletes is problematic. When there are football players, baseball players, and the entire men’s basketball team all lifting at once, plus non-athletes who just like to stay in shape, it’s physically difficult for everyone to navigate around the space with so many bodies. Athletes should have the space they need to train for competition, and non-athletes should also have the space to stay fit and healthy, without overcrowding.
I am entirely aware that Kalamazoo College knows of this problem, as a renovation of Anderson Athletic Center is in the planning stages. But it can’t come soon enough. Kalamazoo needs a better weight room. More space. More machines. Rooms for both athletes and non-athletes. If the college is to truly acknowledge the importance of athletics and the overwhelming benefits of exercise for the health of a campus as a whole, a major overhaul is needed.
There are also small steps we as a community can do right now. The college should prioritize making sure that all equipment functions at all times. It is ridiculous that with so few machines that some of them should be broken. Students can also practice better weight room etiquette. Simple steps such as racking weights after using machines, putting away towels and dumbbells after use, can help the weight room function more smoothly.
Yes, my fellow Kalamazoo-ians, the weight room is in need of reform. An improved weight room would truly reflect Kalamazoo’s commitment to fostering both competitive athletes and healthy, happy students.
The Elusive K College Snow Day
By Lisa Phillips
Sports Editor
FEATURE
Published February 2010
It was a cold winter morning four years ago and I was trapped in the perennial morning dilemma of K students: getting up for that dreaded 8:30 a.m. class. I was cozy in bed. It was freezing outside. The last thing I wanted to do was crawl out of my nest of blankets and trudge across campus in the snow.
Then, as I lay convincing myself of the merits of going to class, the most miraculous thing ever to happen at Kalamazoo College occurred. I heard a rather strange thumping sound outside my dorm, like a barrage of feet echoing through the hallway. That’s unusual, I thought, who in the world would have that much energy at 8 o’clock in the morning. Suddenly, the booming voice of one of my hall mates echoed through the DeWaters 4th floor. “SNOOWWWW DAYYYYY!”
Of course, I didn’t believe him, but a quick check of the email proved the validity of the celebration: indeed, Kalamazoo College had cancelled classes. Thus started one of the most blissful memories of my freshmen year, full of sleep, sledding, and utter enjoyment.
The elusive Snow Day at Kalamazoo College. So rare that it’s almost a myth. But yet, it has happened before. Once. In the last 4 years. And I clearly remember that that snow day four years ago was because the power went out in the library, forcing the college to cancel classes.
Classes have been cancelled this year at other colleges around the state: most recently, at the University of Michigan and at Kalamazoo Valley Community College last Monday, February 22. The Kalamazoo Public School system has cancelled school multiple times this winter. But Kalamazoo College has not.
Usually, students assume that K’s closing policy mirrors the policy of big brother university Western Michigan’s. And generally, this may be true: both K and WMU shut down their campuses on December 10 this year (over Winter Break), but both colleges have yet to cancel classes this season due to weather. However, the simultaneous cancellation of WMU and K has not always occurred: WMU closed on February 1, 2008 due to weather, while K remained open.
So why is Kalamazoo so reluctant to cancel classes on these frigid winter days? Partially, it’s because we don’t need to: we’re a small and tight-knit college population. The email students received earlier this year about Weather Closing Guidelines read: “Because most “K” students live on or near campus, however, the College sometimes remains open when other educational institutions—especially those with a higher commuter population—close.” It’s true, most of the college population lives within walking distance, including the seniors; we usually don’t have to dig our cars out or drive on slippery roads to make it to school.
But, judging by the utter lack of parking on campus during the day, I would conjecture that the majority of the faculty and staff commute to campus. Then, even if students can make it to classes, why wouldn’t the college cancel classes when wintry conditions prevent faculty from getting to school? This, I believe, speaks to the academic rigor of Kalamazoo College. With the frenetic pace and academic ferocity of the quarter system, I think both faculty and staff are reluctant to cancel classes because the ramifications of a day lost are felt more on at 10-week curriculum than a 15-week one. The snow day I enjoyed during my freshmen year was indeed a day of bliss, but it certainly didn’t diminish the amount of work I had to do for my classes; professors just overloaded us for the rest of the week.
But yet, at a college that provides buses to take us to the beach one day every Spring Quarter, it’s a shame that there isn’t a mid-winter moment of bliss for K students. This is about the time of winter quarter where students ‘burn out’; it’s cold outside, we’ve been cooped up for ages, and the cold weather coupled with the academic pace of the college ebbs away at student morale. It’s probably unlikely that the college will cancel classes, but it’s equally unlikely that students will stop wishing for a day off.
So, as I conclude my last winter quarter at K, is one last Snow Day too much to hope for? With winter coming (hopefully) to an end, probably. But whenever I wake up to see a fresh blanket of snow covering the world outside, I can’t help but hope. Sometimes, just sometimes, we all need a break.
Sports Editor
FEATURE
Published February 2010
It was a cold winter morning four years ago and I was trapped in the perennial morning dilemma of K students: getting up for that dreaded 8:30 a.m. class. I was cozy in bed. It was freezing outside. The last thing I wanted to do was crawl out of my nest of blankets and trudge across campus in the snow.
Then, as I lay convincing myself of the merits of going to class, the most miraculous thing ever to happen at Kalamazoo College occurred. I heard a rather strange thumping sound outside my dorm, like a barrage of feet echoing through the hallway. That’s unusual, I thought, who in the world would have that much energy at 8 o’clock in the morning. Suddenly, the booming voice of one of my hall mates echoed through the DeWaters 4th floor. “SNOOWWWW DAYYYYY!”
Of course, I didn’t believe him, but a quick check of the email proved the validity of the celebration: indeed, Kalamazoo College had cancelled classes. Thus started one of the most blissful memories of my freshmen year, full of sleep, sledding, and utter enjoyment.
The elusive Snow Day at Kalamazoo College. So rare that it’s almost a myth. But yet, it has happened before. Once. In the last 4 years. And I clearly remember that that snow day four years ago was because the power went out in the library, forcing the college to cancel classes.
Classes have been cancelled this year at other colleges around the state: most recently, at the University of Michigan and at Kalamazoo Valley Community College last Monday, February 22. The Kalamazoo Public School system has cancelled school multiple times this winter. But Kalamazoo College has not.
Usually, students assume that K’s closing policy mirrors the policy of big brother university Western Michigan’s. And generally, this may be true: both K and WMU shut down their campuses on December 10 this year (over Winter Break), but both colleges have yet to cancel classes this season due to weather. However, the simultaneous cancellation of WMU and K has not always occurred: WMU closed on February 1, 2008 due to weather, while K remained open.
So why is Kalamazoo so reluctant to cancel classes on these frigid winter days? Partially, it’s because we don’t need to: we’re a small and tight-knit college population. The email students received earlier this year about Weather Closing Guidelines read: “Because most “K” students live on or near campus, however, the College sometimes remains open when other educational institutions—especially those with a higher commuter population—close.” It’s true, most of the college population lives within walking distance, including the seniors; we usually don’t have to dig our cars out or drive on slippery roads to make it to school.
But, judging by the utter lack of parking on campus during the day, I would conjecture that the majority of the faculty and staff commute to campus. Then, even if students can make it to classes, why wouldn’t the college cancel classes when wintry conditions prevent faculty from getting to school? This, I believe, speaks to the academic rigor of Kalamazoo College. With the frenetic pace and academic ferocity of the quarter system, I think both faculty and staff are reluctant to cancel classes because the ramifications of a day lost are felt more on at 10-week curriculum than a 15-week one. The snow day I enjoyed during my freshmen year was indeed a day of bliss, but it certainly didn’t diminish the amount of work I had to do for my classes; professors just overloaded us for the rest of the week.
But yet, at a college that provides buses to take us to the beach one day every Spring Quarter, it’s a shame that there isn’t a mid-winter moment of bliss for K students. This is about the time of winter quarter where students ‘burn out’; it’s cold outside, we’ve been cooped up for ages, and the cold weather coupled with the academic pace of the college ebbs away at student morale. It’s probably unlikely that the college will cancel classes, but it’s equally unlikely that students will stop wishing for a day off.
So, as I conclude my last winter quarter at K, is one last Snow Day too much to hope for? With winter coming (hopefully) to an end, probably. But whenever I wake up to see a fresh blanket of snow covering the world outside, I can’t help but hope. Sometimes, just sometimes, we all need a break.
I Handed In My SIP and The World Continued - Combating the Post-SIP Blues at K
BY LISA PHILLIPS
Sports Editor
Published January 2010
I’m sitting next to an exhausted printer in the library, triumphantly holding a shiny grey binder with the words “Kalamazoo College Senior Individualized Project” scrolled across the top. This is it, I thought. I’ve worked 6 months for this day. Inside that binder was the biggest project I had ever undertaken in my life, finally ready to be handed in. Hours and hours of research and writing, finally complete.
With a rush of adrenaline, I sprinted over to Dewing and up to the Political Science offices. I half expected to see a mariachi band there to greet me, accompanied by a gospel choir singing Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus” and a shower of champagne raining from above. Fireworks. Birthday cake. All of my closest family and friends cheering. That would have felt appropriate for the amount of work I had put in.
None of that happened. My advisor eagerly congratulated me, and that was it; the world continued, unaffected. I tried to make it exciting for myself – I hugged some friends, called my parents. But as one of my friends congratulated me, he delivered that depressing mantra all-too-common among seniors: “Congrats. You know, though, no one will ever read it.”
He’s right, I thought, suddenly realizing that I probably could count on one hand the number of people who will actually read the 120-page document I produced. After brief congratulations, at least 3 friends and 1 professor reminded me of that fact in subsequent days. The sledgehammer of post-SIP depression hit me square in the head.
In the aftermath of handing in one’s SIP, a common sentiment among seniors is more dejection than elation. Sabotaging thoughts fill our heads: “Sure, my analysis section is great, but no one will ever know.” “I spent ridiculous amounts of time on a project that will be filed away in a cabinet somewhere to collect dust.” “It’s like a mini doctoral dissertation that gets you absolutely nothing.” “Why did I have to do this, anyway?” The Post-SIP blues hit the senior class in full force.
These should not be the sentiments entering seniors’ heads after such a big accomplishment! But they prevail partially because the turn-in process of the SIP is largely anticlimactic. There’s no celebration; no recognition of the achievement that has just been completed. Even for a senior who readily recognizes the personal value of undertaking such a project, the lack of anything happening right after handing in one’s SIP feels a bit inadequate for the amount of work done.
Obviously, this argument is mildly trivial: seniors will indeed survive without someone patting us on the back as we hand in our projects. And it’s worth acknowledging that departments differ in how they treat the SIP hand-in process; some do indeed have celebrations. But yet, SIPS are an incredible amount of work, and in the frenetic pace of K, sometimes both professors and students forget to adequately commemorate the moment the SIP is finally turned in.
How to fix the post-SIP blues? I think that having a handing-in ceremony for all majors that does include birthday cake and loud cheering would be a fabulous idea. But it might be as simple as a congratulatory email from a department head, a heartfelt recognition from a professor of a job well done. Or, having seniors write a reflection immediately after completing their SIPs may help them remember how personally beneficial a SIP actually is: what they’ve learned from the project, how they’ve grown. This might help seniors recognize the value of the SIP beyond the fact that most people won’t read what they’ve done.
Maybe the solution is indeed hiring a mariachi band to serenade every student that walks through the office doors after finishing their SIP. But something needs to be done to the SIP hand-in process feel less disheartening, and more like the accomplishment that it undoubtedly is.
Sports Editor
Published January 2010
I’m sitting next to an exhausted printer in the library, triumphantly holding a shiny grey binder with the words “Kalamazoo College Senior Individualized Project” scrolled across the top. This is it, I thought. I’ve worked 6 months for this day. Inside that binder was the biggest project I had ever undertaken in my life, finally ready to be handed in. Hours and hours of research and writing, finally complete.
With a rush of adrenaline, I sprinted over to Dewing and up to the Political Science offices. I half expected to see a mariachi band there to greet me, accompanied by a gospel choir singing Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus” and a shower of champagne raining from above. Fireworks. Birthday cake. All of my closest family and friends cheering. That would have felt appropriate for the amount of work I had put in.
None of that happened. My advisor eagerly congratulated me, and that was it; the world continued, unaffected. I tried to make it exciting for myself – I hugged some friends, called my parents. But as one of my friends congratulated me, he delivered that depressing mantra all-too-common among seniors: “Congrats. You know, though, no one will ever read it.”
He’s right, I thought, suddenly realizing that I probably could count on one hand the number of people who will actually read the 120-page document I produced. After brief congratulations, at least 3 friends and 1 professor reminded me of that fact in subsequent days. The sledgehammer of post-SIP depression hit me square in the head.
In the aftermath of handing in one’s SIP, a common sentiment among seniors is more dejection than elation. Sabotaging thoughts fill our heads: “Sure, my analysis section is great, but no one will ever know.” “I spent ridiculous amounts of time on a project that will be filed away in a cabinet somewhere to collect dust.” “It’s like a mini doctoral dissertation that gets you absolutely nothing.” “Why did I have to do this, anyway?” The Post-SIP blues hit the senior class in full force.
These should not be the sentiments entering seniors’ heads after such a big accomplishment! But they prevail partially because the turn-in process of the SIP is largely anticlimactic. There’s no celebration; no recognition of the achievement that has just been completed. Even for a senior who readily recognizes the personal value of undertaking such a project, the lack of anything happening right after handing in one’s SIP feels a bit inadequate for the amount of work done.
Obviously, this argument is mildly trivial: seniors will indeed survive without someone patting us on the back as we hand in our projects. And it’s worth acknowledging that departments differ in how they treat the SIP hand-in process; some do indeed have celebrations. But yet, SIPS are an incredible amount of work, and in the frenetic pace of K, sometimes both professors and students forget to adequately commemorate the moment the SIP is finally turned in.
How to fix the post-SIP blues? I think that having a handing-in ceremony for all majors that does include birthday cake and loud cheering would be a fabulous idea. But it might be as simple as a congratulatory email from a department head, a heartfelt recognition from a professor of a job well done. Or, having seniors write a reflection immediately after completing their SIPs may help them remember how personally beneficial a SIP actually is: what they’ve learned from the project, how they’ve grown. This might help seniors recognize the value of the SIP beyond the fact that most people won’t read what they’ve done.
Maybe the solution is indeed hiring a mariachi band to serenade every student that walks through the office doors after finishing their SIP. But something needs to be done to the SIP hand-in process feel less disheartening, and more like the accomplishment that it undoubtedly is.
Is There Such a Thing as Healthy Partying?
By Lisa Phillips
Sports Editor
Published Fall 2009
I don’t consider myself a particularly rambunctious or rebellious student. I study and take my academics seriously. And I’m also a proud member of the K College Party scene.
Partying seems to be an out-of-bounds topic in academia, due to the illegality of underage drinking. But this article is not meant to be a criticism of the college alcohol policy, as I wholeheartedly agree that the college should enforce the law. Rather, I’d like to have an open discussion of the social rather than legal aspect of partying. College students are going to party despite drinking laws, and it’s about time we start talking openly about it.
In many ways, the ‘partier’ on the college campus seems to be the foil to the ‘academic’. We excuse bad grades or lack of academic dedication to “Oh, well she/he’s a partier.” We conceal our party stories from our professors; lie about our weekend revelry to our advisors. The implication is that one cannot do both, party and be serious about one’s studies. Even the fact that I feel the need to assert my academic commitment at the start of this piece shows how conditioned I am to stigmatize partying.
This stigma is probably largely due to the debauchery associated with partying. College parties connote images of drunken underage students using alcohol as an excuse to make bad decisions. Many movies that illustrate college life, i.e. “Animal House,” reinforce this image. In the U.S., college partying is deemed more worrisome than worthwhile.
When I went to Ecuador for Study Aboard, I found myself immersed in a culture with a different interpretation of partying. Partying was not even remotely stigmatized, but rather embraced. All festivals, holidays, and most weekends involved partying. Students and professors alike did not hide their weekend escapades.
It was disconcerting for me to adjust to a culture where revelry was so wholeheartedly accepted. The stigma I had associated with partying became very apparent, causing me to consider: which view of partying did I adhere to?
I found my answer mirrored the Ecuadorians and had nothing to do with copious drinking or making bad decisions. I party for the social value of doing so.
In Kalamazoo, the social value of partying is unquestionable. At a small college like K, house parties are the weekend social scene of the campus. Even when I’m now 21 and can go to the bar, I find myself at K parties because it’s the most sure-fire way to hang out with my friends.
I’m not arguing that debauchery or binge drinking doesn’t happen, because it does. But it’s not the only activity, or the most frequent activity, that happens at parties. More often, parties are a way to convene with everyone a setting other than the library.
Partying also allows the opportunity to meet K students outside of one’s classes or major. It mixes athletes and non-athletes, science and non-science majors; groupings that we all know are divisive at K. I’ve met way more friends outside of my discipline at parties than at any other function on campus. Parties amalgamate the student population in a way not necessarily seen anywhere else, something immensely beneficial to the college community.
It’s also worth noting that many K students can and do appropriately balance partying and school. The K party scene is unique to other colleges in the fact that it happens only on weekends, as we’re all too busy studying on weekdays. In my 4 years at K, I’ve seen countless examples of intelligent students with a great equilibrium between partying and studying.
So, can partying be healthy? My liver would probably disagree. But I think it’s time to dispel with the notion that partying is seen as contrary to academia, and acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, K parties have social value to the college as a whole.
Therefore, yes, you will see me at this weekend’s Kalamazoo house party. And I will not conceal it.
Sports Editor
Published Fall 2009
I don’t consider myself a particularly rambunctious or rebellious student. I study and take my academics seriously. And I’m also a proud member of the K College Party scene.
Partying seems to be an out-of-bounds topic in academia, due to the illegality of underage drinking. But this article is not meant to be a criticism of the college alcohol policy, as I wholeheartedly agree that the college should enforce the law. Rather, I’d like to have an open discussion of the social rather than legal aspect of partying. College students are going to party despite drinking laws, and it’s about time we start talking openly about it.
In many ways, the ‘partier’ on the college campus seems to be the foil to the ‘academic’. We excuse bad grades or lack of academic dedication to “Oh, well she/he’s a partier.” We conceal our party stories from our professors; lie about our weekend revelry to our advisors. The implication is that one cannot do both, party and be serious about one’s studies. Even the fact that I feel the need to assert my academic commitment at the start of this piece shows how conditioned I am to stigmatize partying.
This stigma is probably largely due to the debauchery associated with partying. College parties connote images of drunken underage students using alcohol as an excuse to make bad decisions. Many movies that illustrate college life, i.e. “Animal House,” reinforce this image. In the U.S., college partying is deemed more worrisome than worthwhile.
When I went to Ecuador for Study Aboard, I found myself immersed in a culture with a different interpretation of partying. Partying was not even remotely stigmatized, but rather embraced. All festivals, holidays, and most weekends involved partying. Students and professors alike did not hide their weekend escapades.
It was disconcerting for me to adjust to a culture where revelry was so wholeheartedly accepted. The stigma I had associated with partying became very apparent, causing me to consider: which view of partying did I adhere to?
I found my answer mirrored the Ecuadorians and had nothing to do with copious drinking or making bad decisions. I party for the social value of doing so.
In Kalamazoo, the social value of partying is unquestionable. At a small college like K, house parties are the weekend social scene of the campus. Even when I’m now 21 and can go to the bar, I find myself at K parties because it’s the most sure-fire way to hang out with my friends.
I’m not arguing that debauchery or binge drinking doesn’t happen, because it does. But it’s not the only activity, or the most frequent activity, that happens at parties. More often, parties are a way to convene with everyone a setting other than the library.
Partying also allows the opportunity to meet K students outside of one’s classes or major. It mixes athletes and non-athletes, science and non-science majors; groupings that we all know are divisive at K. I’ve met way more friends outside of my discipline at parties than at any other function on campus. Parties amalgamate the student population in a way not necessarily seen anywhere else, something immensely beneficial to the college community.
It’s also worth noting that many K students can and do appropriately balance partying and school. The K party scene is unique to other colleges in the fact that it happens only on weekends, as we’re all too busy studying on weekdays. In my 4 years at K, I’ve seen countless examples of intelligent students with a great equilibrium between partying and studying.
So, can partying be healthy? My liver would probably disagree. But I think it’s time to dispel with the notion that partying is seen as contrary to academia, and acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, K parties have social value to the college as a whole.
Therefore, yes, you will see me at this weekend’s Kalamazoo house party. And I will not conceal it.
Do General Education Requirements = Liberal Arts? Reflections on the Open Curriculum
By Lisa Phillips
Sports Editor
Published Fall 2009
This year marks the switch to an open curriculum at Kalamazoo College, without the majority of general education requirements.
The one criticism that I’ve heard time and again is that this switch is eroding at our liberal arts identity. How can we claim to ocffer students a liberal arts education without requiring a spectrum of classes from different disciplines? Isn’t the very essence of liberal arts about broadening one’s knowledge in all areas, rather than merely taking classes in one’s interests?
I certainly agree that a liberal arts education is about more than just taking classes that fit your career or tailor to your passions. It’s about learning to critically think and expanding one’s knowledge of the world, and this is undoubtedly done through classes both inside and outside of one’s area of study. I still remember when, as a first-year Political Science major, I took “19th Century Art” to fulfill my history credit. This class challenged me beyond any of my other classes that year – I had no idea how to analyze art. But I emerged with a newfound appreciation of both Impressionism and the discipline in general, one that continues on today. This is at the very heart of what a liberal arts education should do.
However, the essential point missing is that this still can be done with the new curriculum. Students still can choose to take a wide range of classes. It’s just a matter of convincing them that they should do so.
Right now, from what I’ve seen, many students are not convinced. I still remember when we seniors found out last spring that we could switch to the new curriculum. Cries of “Thank goodness I don’t have to take that dreaded science class!” were rampant. Many students used it to avoid a discipline that they just couldn’t get themselves to take a class in. They were missing the point of the liberal arts education, and they’ve been at a liberal arts institution for three years now.
How can we say, even before the switch, that we were a liberal arts college? Shouldn’t students at a liberal arts college understand what is at the very essence of liberal arts? Even when we required students to take classes in different disciplines, many students didn’t approach this with the idea that this was valuable to their intellectual growth, but rather that they had to do so.
Thus, I believe that the open curriculum is an opportunity to strengthen our liberal arts identity rather than diminish it. It gives us an imperative to explain our liberal arts values to our students, instead of merely requiring them to take general education requirements without explaining why. Now, as students choose their education path, we as a college now have an urgency to convince them what a liberal arts education means and why a variety of classes is important.
In our career-oriented world, this certainly isn’t easy. It may mean more advising, more discussion of the value of liberal arts, more coordination between disciplines; what else, I don’t know. But we as a college should take this curriculum switch as a challenge. Let’s make ourselves known as a liberal arts institution not through requirements that are meaningless to students, but through a learning philosophy that the whole student body understands.
Sports Editor
Published Fall 2009
This year marks the switch to an open curriculum at Kalamazoo College, without the majority of general education requirements.
The one criticism that I’ve heard time and again is that this switch is eroding at our liberal arts identity. How can we claim to ocffer students a liberal arts education without requiring a spectrum of classes from different disciplines? Isn’t the very essence of liberal arts about broadening one’s knowledge in all areas, rather than merely taking classes in one’s interests?
I certainly agree that a liberal arts education is about more than just taking classes that fit your career or tailor to your passions. It’s about learning to critically think and expanding one’s knowledge of the world, and this is undoubtedly done through classes both inside and outside of one’s area of study. I still remember when, as a first-year Political Science major, I took “19th Century Art” to fulfill my history credit. This class challenged me beyond any of my other classes that year – I had no idea how to analyze art. But I emerged with a newfound appreciation of both Impressionism and the discipline in general, one that continues on today. This is at the very heart of what a liberal arts education should do.
However, the essential point missing is that this still can be done with the new curriculum. Students still can choose to take a wide range of classes. It’s just a matter of convincing them that they should do so.
Right now, from what I’ve seen, many students are not convinced. I still remember when we seniors found out last spring that we could switch to the new curriculum. Cries of “Thank goodness I don’t have to take that dreaded science class!” were rampant. Many students used it to avoid a discipline that they just couldn’t get themselves to take a class in. They were missing the point of the liberal arts education, and they’ve been at a liberal arts institution for three years now.
How can we say, even before the switch, that we were a liberal arts college? Shouldn’t students at a liberal arts college understand what is at the very essence of liberal arts? Even when we required students to take classes in different disciplines, many students didn’t approach this with the idea that this was valuable to their intellectual growth, but rather that they had to do so.
Thus, I believe that the open curriculum is an opportunity to strengthen our liberal arts identity rather than diminish it. It gives us an imperative to explain our liberal arts values to our students, instead of merely requiring them to take general education requirements without explaining why. Now, as students choose their education path, we as a college now have an urgency to convince them what a liberal arts education means and why a variety of classes is important.
In our career-oriented world, this certainly isn’t easy. It may mean more advising, more discussion of the value of liberal arts, more coordination between disciplines; what else, I don’t know. But we as a college should take this curriculum switch as a challenge. Let’s make ourselves known as a liberal arts institution not through requirements that are meaningless to students, but through a learning philosophy that the whole student body understands.
Criticizing the Cafeteria - An Insider's Perspective
By Lisa Phillips
News Editor
Published Spring 2009
As a school, it’s a commonplace, a rite of passage in a way, to gripe about the cafeteria at K. We lament about the lack of Lucky Charms or that the theme line has no options. There’s only cheese pizza, the meat looks gross, the peanut butter’s chunky not creamy.
I certainly have done my fair share of complaining about the Caf. But I’ve worked at Sodexho almost the entire time I’ve been at K, around 3 years, and it’s began to make me look at the other perspective, the view from behind the counter.
What my job has taught me is how much work it really takes to produce those cafeteria meals each day. When you walk into the cafeteria, you don’t automatically realize the sprawling kitchen that lies behind. The chefs that labor to put out those theme line items. The dishwashers. The stockers. The managers. It’s a large-scale operation to produce that much food.
And these men and women are given quite the daunting mission. Providing tasty, interesting food to almost 500 hungry college students a day? Certainly not a task I’d want in my lifetime.
Think about how much work goes into producing the options that we see in front of us. Those vegetables don’t come all cut up, they’re chopped that way. All of those dessert cups are individually made. The cereal is stocked, the dishes are stacked, that endless pop supply doesn’t refill itself.
And these people are really making the most of what they’ve got. If it’s one thing I’ve encountered consistently at my job, it’s that these people really do try! They’re given bulk food to work with, but they care about offering variety, about fulfilling student needs. They want to provide healthy options for those who want them, fried options for those who don’t, vegetarian options, dessert options, etc.
I think we tend to objectify the cafeteria when we criticize, to dehumanize it. We forget that we are in turn criticizing real people who are trying their best to bring us good food every day. I’m certainly guilty of it.
I guess what I’m arguing is, give the cafeteria a break. It’s understandable if there’s not always a crazy variety of options. Satisfying the taste buds of every student every day is impossible; people want different things. Yes, we pay a lot of money for this school, but we can also be human, to appreciate how much labor goes into the food we see.
And it’s worthwhile to realize how good we really have it. As a junior living off-campus, in my occasional visits to the cafeteria, I’ve suddenly began to appreciate how luxurious it really is to just put your dirty dishes on the conveyor belt, to not have to wipe down your own table. To eat a good salad, I now have to buy, wash, cut, and assemble; while in the Caf, I waltz through a line of already-prepared vegetables for me.
I’m not saying you shouldn’t gripe about the cafeteria. Keep those comment cards flowing. An ongoing dialogue is essential: it keeps Sodexho in-tune with what students want. And they will do their best to listen. Starting next year, a ‘Health Foods’ section will be available, in response to student comments.
No, Sodexho food is not the same as your mother’s. It won’t always fit your tastes. There won’t always be good options. But I think we sometimes get so caught up in criticizing the institution that we forget the humanity involved. People work hard to produce all of that food, and it wouldn’t hurt us to be appreciative.
Or maybe, when you really like something in the cafeteria, take a minute to comment on that also. Let them know that the effort is noticed and appreciated. In a world where consideration is all-to-quickly forgotten, a kind and encouraging word can go a long way.
News Editor
Published Spring 2009
As a school, it’s a commonplace, a rite of passage in a way, to gripe about the cafeteria at K. We lament about the lack of Lucky Charms or that the theme line has no options. There’s only cheese pizza, the meat looks gross, the peanut butter’s chunky not creamy.
I certainly have done my fair share of complaining about the Caf. But I’ve worked at Sodexho almost the entire time I’ve been at K, around 3 years, and it’s began to make me look at the other perspective, the view from behind the counter.
What my job has taught me is how much work it really takes to produce those cafeteria meals each day. When you walk into the cafeteria, you don’t automatically realize the sprawling kitchen that lies behind. The chefs that labor to put out those theme line items. The dishwashers. The stockers. The managers. It’s a large-scale operation to produce that much food.
And these men and women are given quite the daunting mission. Providing tasty, interesting food to almost 500 hungry college students a day? Certainly not a task I’d want in my lifetime.
Think about how much work goes into producing the options that we see in front of us. Those vegetables don’t come all cut up, they’re chopped that way. All of those dessert cups are individually made. The cereal is stocked, the dishes are stacked, that endless pop supply doesn’t refill itself.
And these people are really making the most of what they’ve got. If it’s one thing I’ve encountered consistently at my job, it’s that these people really do try! They’re given bulk food to work with, but they care about offering variety, about fulfilling student needs. They want to provide healthy options for those who want them, fried options for those who don’t, vegetarian options, dessert options, etc.
I think we tend to objectify the cafeteria when we criticize, to dehumanize it. We forget that we are in turn criticizing real people who are trying their best to bring us good food every day. I’m certainly guilty of it.
I guess what I’m arguing is, give the cafeteria a break. It’s understandable if there’s not always a crazy variety of options. Satisfying the taste buds of every student every day is impossible; people want different things. Yes, we pay a lot of money for this school, but we can also be human, to appreciate how much labor goes into the food we see.
And it’s worthwhile to realize how good we really have it. As a junior living off-campus, in my occasional visits to the cafeteria, I’ve suddenly began to appreciate how luxurious it really is to just put your dirty dishes on the conveyor belt, to not have to wipe down your own table. To eat a good salad, I now have to buy, wash, cut, and assemble; while in the Caf, I waltz through a line of already-prepared vegetables for me.
I’m not saying you shouldn’t gripe about the cafeteria. Keep those comment cards flowing. An ongoing dialogue is essential: it keeps Sodexho in-tune with what students want. And they will do their best to listen. Starting next year, a ‘Health Foods’ section will be available, in response to student comments.
No, Sodexho food is not the same as your mother’s. It won’t always fit your tastes. There won’t always be good options. But I think we sometimes get so caught up in criticizing the institution that we forget the humanity involved. People work hard to produce all of that food, and it wouldn’t hurt us to be appreciative.
Or maybe, when you really like something in the cafeteria, take a minute to comment on that also. Let them know that the effort is noticed and appreciated. In a world where consideration is all-to-quickly forgotten, a kind and encouraging word can go a long way.
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