Newspaper Page Text
The (]()lU*giat«*
Briggs Petway
Associate Editor JohnPaca
Business Manager Farthing
Sports Staff Guy Hyatt, Russell Rawlings, Leigh Taylor
Photographers Peter Chamness and Doug Hackney
Staff Writers
Ann Dixon, LaVee Hamer,Tricia Lough, Mary Kay Merkle,
Jackie Parker, Brad Tucker.
The Collegiate is published weekly by the students of Atlantic
Christian College, Wilson, North Carolina 27893. The views
expressed herein are not necessarily those of the faculty or
administration.
Letters To The Editor
College And Jobs
God does things for reasons that appear strange to
man. He creates catastrophes and calamities to put
man’s mind back in the proper perspective. Man has a
way of launching out on his own to suit himself. And in
the words of Maude, the television victim of verbal
diarrhea, “God’ll get you for that.”
The current economic mess is a perfect example. For
years and years there has been much too much
emphasis on money and salable commodities. Sadly, a
college education has fallen into that category. People
come to school, not to learn, not even to play, but to get a
job. This, to me, is one of the most vile, mercenary acts
a person can commit.
Why pay the $700 per semester to come to ACC to learn
a body of knowledge that someone calls a salable
commity? For far less, a person can go to Wilson Tech
and take accounting, secretarial science, business
administration, or some other salable skill.
I do concede one point, someone has to teach
business. They, perhaps, and only perhaps, need the
additional background that college offers.
I get sick at the sight of every poll of employment
agencies that says business majors have the best shot at
jobs. If my only goal for education was a job. I’d go to
the Tech and learn to drive a bulldozer. (By the way, I
am well acquainted with blue-collar jobs.)
The purpose of a college education is simply an
education. The student should come to college for no
other reason. If he needs to grow up, the military would
pay him to do it.
Maybe I am too idealistic, but I think education has a
place in the American society. I suppose with the
education I want, I’ll be expected to teach. But, I may
drive a truck or be a farmer or be a professional athlete.
I will not limit my education to finding a job, I plan to go
to school until it is no longer fun. Then, I’ll try something
else. God looks after fools and blind people ... and I ain’t
blind. I will always have some source of income, my
faith will not let me down. I may not be rich or famous,
but I’ll be satisfied.
Briggs Petway
To the Editor:
I would like to take this op
portunity to express my deep
appreciation to all the students
that assisted in this year s
Homecoming activities. From
comments that I have heard I
feel that Homecoming 1975 has
to be rated as one of the best.
The activities were enjoyed by
more Alumni than in past years,
and I feel that because of the
interest and cooperation that
was displayed by many students
that this will be an incentive for
more Alumni to return to their
Alma Mater next year.
Again, “Thank you Students”
for your help.
Bill Smith
To The Editor:
On Tuesday, October 21, I was
tired and depressed. So many
negative charges, seemingly,
had been hurled my way that I
felt depleted of energy. I kept
thinking; “I hope I can make it
through the day.”
Then, I remembered the note
on the door about the worship
program to be held at eleven
o’clock in Howard Chapel. I
could not go because I had ap
pointments with two students
during that hour.
The telephone rang, “We
cannot come,” they said. “We
have papers to finish writing,”
The time was ten minutes past
the hour, but I quickly made my
way to the Chapel. The second
song was being sung, but I found
the song and sang louder than
anyone else. (I know I did
because one of my nieces always
nudges me in church and says,
“Hush, you sing so loud someone
will hear you.”)
The sermonette was about
having faith, and I remembered
— so many things!
I did feel better after that
message. In fact, I chuckled as I
came out because I had been
reminded of the ridiculous after
shave lotion ad where the guy
slaps himself on the cheek and
says:
“Thanks, I needed that!”
How about you?
Sincerely,
Tassie Ree Langley
I was really happy to see the
number of people who came out
to work on the float last week.
The participation was great, and
it helped me to realize that
Nov. 9-15: National Nurse Week
Student nurse; patients love
her, doctors tolerate her,
surgeons scream at her, in
structors hide from her, head
nurses ignore her, housemothers
pray for her, heaven helps her,
and mothers love her.
Student nurse; no one else can
give nine complete baths, five SS
enemas, one hundred and
twenty-three injections, lose
seven Bic pens, fill eighteen
croupettes, take twenty-five
a.m. TPR’s and emotionally
support seventeen women
patients in one day, still get
along with her roommate.
No one on earth loves
weekends more, has such an
enormous appetite, gets blamed
for so many things, faces so
many empty mail boxes, and
can still tolerate lettuce and
round pieces of “meat” for
dinner.
Student nurse; she is so
darling with Demoerl if her hair,
Solu-B down her uniform, hot
coffee in her shoes, bathroom
tissue in her pocket, fruit gum on
her medicine tray and betadine
nail polish. She is the picture of
love to the geriatric patient,
wisdom with a pile of
Atlantic Christian College
Presents
Fleetwood Mac
ednesday, Nov. 19
New Gym
Students 2.50
At Door 5.00
worksheets, “our baby” to mom
and dad, and the future with a
newborn in her still childish
arms.
No one can sleep through
class, pretend to enjoy a guest
lecture, fail so many pop tests,
write so many bibliographies on
unread articles, avoid so many
library fines nor receive so
many handouts. She does all this
and them ends up at Broughton
where she talks carefully, lives
on Hardee’s hamburgers, yells
at cows, is the “Queen” at
patient dances, walks the estate
daily and during all this checks
for her keys a hundred times.
She comes in dead tired,
aching feet, weak hands, yet
satys up late as possible, then
tells everyone goodnight, gives
her soles a swab, crawls into a
half made bed full of stuffed
animals, paper clips, and
popcorn kernels, sets her clock
for 5:30 a.m. and says, “don’t
forget to check on me in the
morning,”
She came a girl, leaves a
woman; she came a teen, leaves
a young adult; she came un
trained, leaves a professional;
she came for herself, she leaves
for others; she came with love
and she leaves ... a Nurse
Marsha Cunningham
apathy can be turned into en
thusiasm if everyone works at it.
I thought our float was a
success in bringing so many of
us together, and in increasing
our relationships with others.
The cooperation and fellowship
within our own class and with
the other organizations were
great.
A million thanks to everyone
who helped! We couldn’t have
done it without you!
Melba Etheridge
Dear Friends,
I want to take this opportunity
to express my appreciation to all
of you for the honor you
bestowed upon me last Friday
Night. Being chosen as first
runner up to the Homecoming
Queen is something I will always
remember. Thank you for
making this Homecoming a very
special one for me. You and your
friendship made it all possible.
Thank you,
Delores Williams
Dear Editor:
As members of the Student
Body, we would like to confront
you with the issue of the “Pine
Knot” for 1974-1975.
In the past two or three years
there has been an increase in the
number of black students at
tending Atlantic Christian
College and participating in
campus life. To look at “The
Pine Knot,” the viewer ,
feeUhat the Black are not acS
There are clubs such as the
Afro-American Awarene!
Society, Sigma Gamma I,
&cial Club, and a few othen
that we Blacks have worked 2
not receive any recognition fo
any of these organizations
During Black History week
held m February of 1975, Afro'
American Awareness had an
exhibit on Black Heritage ar,
creativity. The same weS
there were several speakers that
visited the campus. To end the
week, there was a talent show
and a concert with bands from A
and T State University
Greensboro, and Fayetteville'
There were pictures in “The
Pine Knot” of dogs, emtny
boxes, and breeze ways. We feel
our organizations are of more
value than boxes and
breezeways.
This is not 1492, when the first
Black man came to America
with Columbus, We are another
generation with great potential
We are somebody. We may be
Black, but we are still
somebody. We have a voice and
we deserve a chance to be heard
Yolanda Whiyney
Anita Lott
Delores Williams
Romana White
Nancy Pinkney
Mary Baker
Vickie Simmons
r r
ishful Autumn
You know it’s autumn when the undertaker wraps the
body in scarlet, orange and vermilion and the first frosl
makes its sugar-coated, glistening. When flies move so
slow you can almost catch them, when all breath is fine
fog, you know it’s autumn then too.
Autumn never fails to affect us. We always imagine
things, crazy sort of wistful things mostly, but we
cherish them in aninward way. Take for instance Jack
Frost, bonny boy dressed in a right smart fur hat,
painting his name on street posts and sewer wells. Hon
many times have you hoped to wake soon enough to see
him at his games. He always comes but he’s quick as3
blink so look quick.
What about the rest of the gallery of images
associated with autumn — dapple apples, all things
primely plump and leaf smells. And what about football
Surely we can’t forget that, for it’s autumn too. But don’t
forget to count county fairs and the hootchy cootchy and
the farm boys gathered round. That’s autumn too.
Enough images. After all, we only move so fast in wet
leaves.
Imagination is the thing. Imagination, purge
sophistication. Someday the three Muses will descend
upon us and wreak havoc for ignoring them.
In all seriousness, we should pay more attention to
old Jack Forst and Mr. Imagination. We’ve let te
romance in us dwindle to the far corners of our mind
where it doesn’t do any good — it just lays there like a
dead cat. Where are our poets and novelists? Where
have all the flowers gone?
We’ve fooled around in the wrong places, and we’ve
been too serious in the wrong places. We’ve beet
laughing at the wrong things, and we’ve been crying aj
soap operas when the real tragedies are not the image-'
on the screen but ourselves watching the stupid things^
They’re barely even shades of human character and ye
they mean more to most people than all the plays 0
Shakespeare and poetry of Milton.
We need to get back to imagination and nope
Somehow it all fuses together.
John Paca
MOVIE
AIRPORT
Hardy Alumni Nov. 12- 7:30 P. M-
No Admission Charge
Sponsored By; The Student Center ^