| Press Power In the Sept. 9 issue of The University Daily - Texas Tech University's student-run newspaper - members of the editorial board condemned a U.S. Court of Appeals for upholding a decision that allowed administrators at Kentucky State University to confiscate 2,000 yearbooks after citing "poor quality" and a purple cover. Instead of covering campus or local news that day, the editors ran the word "censored" in tiny print over every page of the paper. The only pieces to run in that day's paper were an Associated Press story outlining the details of the case, a staff editorial explaining the motivations behind the editors' decision and advertisements. Now, the chairman of Tech's School of Mass Communications has sent a proposal to an upper-level administrator, calling for the student-editor concept to be eliminated and for the paper to be run like a laboratory experience, with the "non-student staff" editor deciding what will or will not run in the paper. Such a proposal may not seem like such a serious affront to many of you, but consider this: nursing majors not allowed to work in hospitals with "real-life" patients; education majors prohibited from stepping foot in "real-life" classrooms; or radio-TV-film majors banned from airing their own "real-life" shows. We all know that employers look for students with "real-life" experience. Book learning is important, but it can take graduates only so far. For aspiring journalists, the Skiff provides that training ground, much like hospitals, classrooms and studios provide the training grounds for aspiring nurses, teachers and on-air personalities. For that reason, we thank our administrators for allowing us to decide what news seems most relevant to you and not limiting our abilities to deliver it.
Use good fortune to help others I have won a lot of things in my life. I once won a thousand dollars in a raffle with 80,000 other entries. I won clocks, gift baskets and even season tickets to the Denver Broncos. Once I won a big-screen TV set in Las Vegas. (Try leaving Caesar's Palace with a television on your luggage cart. The manager sent the bell captain to check my room and see if the TV set was still there.) In February 1996, I won a brand new Dodge Viper. I just dropped my name in a random drawing at the Astrodome in Houston, and I came up a winner. The dealer gave me the keys, the title to the car (taxes paid) and sent me home. It was bright red with a convertible top. I picked it up in downtown Alvin, Texas, and drove it across the state. It is not a Chevy Suburban, but it attracted attention. It was an awesome car that looked great but sounded like a United Parcel Service delivery truck. The UPS truck just needs to go 160 miles per hour. Anyone could hear the roar of the Viper for a mile in any direction. The first decision I had to make was whether I was going to take delivery and drive it, hire a truck to transport it or sell the car and keep the cash. None of the options was inexpensive, especially the one about driving it home and putting a thousand miles on it. After 200 miles, it is a used car. So I chose to fly to Houston, take delivery and drive it home. The Viper did turn heads. I could get the V-12 engine revved up to 6000 revolutions per minute and do 160 mph. Each tire cost $450. I understand that many TCU undergraduate students drive cars this awesome, but a Dodge Viper is about as practical as owning a dump truck on campus. It could be parked nowhere near campus where it would not get dinged up. The Viper attracted a lot of attention, which made me very nervous. People were always crowding around the car and asking me to let them see the engine. On my way home from Houston, I stopped at a convenience store in Goldthwaite, Texas, and 30 kids under the age of 12 encircled the car. I let each one sit in the driver's seat and took Polaroid photos. It is not like you can really go 160 mph across the state of Texas in a red Viper. The Texas Department of Public Safety officers will pull a Viper over for going 71 mph in a 70-mph speed-limit zone. The car just screams, "Give me a ticket!" One DPS officer did pull me over south of Lubbock just so she could get a look at the car. I let her sit in the driver's seat and took a photo. I was stalked by a guy who followed me home and pulled into my garage. He wanted to know where I got the car and how much I paid for it. He said he knew everyone in town with a Viper, and he had never seen this one before. When I told him that I got it for free, he started yelling, cussing and chasing me around the car. It scared the - - - - out of me. When I saw high school kids gawking at the car, I would usually stop and let them drive it. One day, I spent eight hours just letting a line of people drive the Viper. It was the thrill of a lifetime to them, but it kept me on edge. One day, an 83-year-old man in my church wanted to borrow the car to "pick up chicks." The Viper cost $1,100 annually to license, and the insurance was $150 per month. I had stewardship over an expensive car, so I decided it was time to get rid of the car. My friends had advice on what I should do with the Viper. I was raising money for the American Red Cross at the time, and the local chapter executive thought I should give the Viper to the chapter to auction off. One friend suggested that I store the Viper and wait for it to go up in value. Another suggested that I sell it to Kelsey Grammer, who had recently wrecked his Viper while drunk. (I was not sure Frazier needed another Viper.) Another thought I should sell it to Denver Bronco quarterback John Elway so he could have a matched pair. (Sure, I will just look up their telephone numbers in the book and give them a jingle.) I finally sold the Viper to a Denver auto dealer who probably immediately unloaded it for a profit to a UPS truck driver. I was glad I sold it. I was a little sad as I watched it drive off, but now someone else could enjoy driving it. I considered the Viper true Christian grace, given to me unconditionally without any expectation of repayment. I gave 10 percent of the sales price to charity and used the remainder of the money to return to school at TCU. Is going to Brite Divinity School better than having people ogle over a bright red Dodge Viper convertible? You bet it is! And you ought to see that gorgeous Chevy Blazer with an automatic sunroof I now drive.
David Becker is a graduate student from Pueblo, Colo. He can be reached at (evadgorf@aol.com). View education as a 'great adventure' What is the purpose of education? Why are we attending classes at TCU? It seems the longer I am here, the more I wilt under the weight of uncaring, apathetic attitudes toward learning. I remember my freshman year, now glazed over with the sheen of idealism, and how enthralled I was with the whole galaxy of information opened up to me. It didn't bother me to look over in my "Religions of the World" class and see drool dribbling down the neck of my snoring neighbor. I was excited to be participating in a discussion with the one other interested person in the classroom. Luckily, I've experienced several classes that redeem my impression of fellow students here being extremely apathetic toward learning. Anthropology was one course which people just couldn't help enjoying. During this course, we learned all sorts of fascinating things about other cultures, like how Tibetans practice polyandry and certain indigenous Venezuelans use hallucinogens that cause green mucus to stream from their nostrils. How cool is it to discover that some women on this planet are married to four or five men? Never mind the fact that the youngest of them might be 3 and the oldest 30. The point is that learning new stuff is great. This goes back to my original question: Why are you here? Is it to fill some quota or live up to some parental expectation? Are you here just to shuffle from classroom to classroom like some dusty gear in the machine of formal education? Whatever happened to learning just for the simple joy of learning, instead of mindlessly retaining data for two weeks until spewing it out for a test? Something is radically wrong, not only with the attitude of college students in general, but with the institution of education as well. Although I don't know all the factors that play into the state of things, I do know that when universities are run like a business instead of an educational institution, the focus is subtly shifted from creativity to commerce. I'm not referring to any school in particular, of course. The fact that way more funds are spent on the M.J. Neeley School of Business' frivolous accessories than the dilapidated social work building (if you can call it that) has nothing to do with it either. This all points to the underlying problem with priorities in American education, and consequently, American college students. We've been trained to see education as a means to an end, something we acquire so we can "get ahead," instead of something exciting and beautiful in itself. I understand, on the other hand, that not everyone will be in a major that is fascinating to them. And my answer for you is this: Either get a new major or cultivate a more interesting mind. Half the work of learning occurs in your very own brain. Perhaps for some people education is only a way to earn lots of money later in life. Too bad they are forgoing one of life's greatest adventures. While the aphorism states, "Live and learn," I would say, learning is living.
Anita Boeninger is a junior social work major from Colorado Springs, Colo. She can be reached at (atboeninger@delta.is.tcu.edu). New York needs more than tossed salads, omelets First lady Hillary Rodham Clinton formally kicked off her campaign for the U.S. Senate on Sunday, in which she will likely face Republican New York Mayor Rudolph Giuliani. The two are in a virtual dead heat in the race for the seat vacated by Democrat Sen. Daniel Patrick Moynihan, The Dallas Morning News reported Monday. The Morning News reported that Clinton, in an attempt to soften her image, showed a biographical video Sunday in Purchase, N.Y. "I make a mean tossed salad and a great omelet," she said in the video. And she wants to be senator. Uh huh. The Fort Worth Star-Telegram reported Monday that Clinton's candidacy speech included promises to improve schools, health care, environmentalism and gun control. She also verbalized support for the passage of a comprehensive nuclear test ban treaty, a balanced budget and welfare reform. She might as well wish for world peace and cute little puppies for all the small children, but I guess a New York senator can support whatever she wants. Clinton, an Illinois native, is the only first lady to run for political office. How convenient of her to run for office the year her husband will become a lame duck (not that he wasn't lame to begin with). How convenient that she's re-starting her career, after eight long years in the White House, in a state with a big, important name and reputation. "New York senator." It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? It certainly sounds more impressive than, say, an Arkansas senator, or an Illinois senator or a senator from any other state where she lived for more than one month. Why didn't she run for a senate seat from the states that reared her? If she wanted to pick and choose her possible senate title, why did she pick New York? Why not choose South Dakota, Iowa or one of those other states where nobody important really comes from? She could have made a name for herself (one outside of her husband's career choice) and made a name for her new state. She decided to go for the state that already had a big, important reputation. Come on Hillary. We see through your thinly disguised plan to, once again, lead the free world. But since I'm always one to support women in politics, I came up with some campaign slogans for Clinton.
OK, so maybe I shouldn't wait for the phone call to be Clinton's campaign manager. So with all this free time I have, maybe I should run for the Senate. Of course, I'll represent Louisiana. Now all I have to do is work out a plan for world peace. After all, I make a mean batch of chocolate chip cookies.
Opinion Editor Laura Head is a junior news-editorial journalism major from Shreveport, La. Campaign contributions can be sent to (lahead@delta.is.tcu.edu). Letter to the editor Ignorance fuels racism, forces white people to examine color, too In response to the Jan. 26 opinion piece regarding race, I have to admit, I know how the columnist feels. You see, it's not only black people that feel lost in today's world. The columnist said "it is not likely that white people are often faced with the task of examining their color." How wrong you are. There are plenty of times I have to examine my color. When I apply for graduate school, or perhaps a job in corporate America, I may be denied a position because I am white, while a less qualified minority gets accepted. If I were to write a column in the Skiff that called black people "the enemy" as was written about whites (I wouldn't), protests might break out all over campus. I would certainly be labeled a racist. And rightly so. Anybody who calls someone of another race "the enemy," deserves to be called a racist. The columnist said she was taught that, "no matter how intelligent or talented you are, all the white man sees is black." When I read the article, I wasn't seeing white or black: I was staring at ignorance. I hope that the columnist will attempt to end her racist view of whites as "the enemy." Until blacks, along with whites and everyone else, stop blaming others for their problems and start accepting individual responsibility, we will continue to be far from Dr. Martin Luther King noble dream.
Wes Warnock senior broadcast journalism major |
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