Page 2
The Banner
December 3, 1998
Opinions
De
The Banner
^—,
Bow down to the leaf blower
Love in the afternoon
Chew on this
It’s reassuring to know that, on the average, UNC tuition
increases rank among the lowest in the nation. However, as
every UNCA student knows at this crucial point in the semes
ter, the law of averages depends on both high and low ends to
arrive at a mean.
While our basketball team bravely treks across the country to
play sacrificial lamb to yet another Division I powerhouse in the
name of financial gain, students too busy with academic work
and jobs to step foot inside Justice Gym are left to collect what
these representatives of our school cannot.
As the semester draws to a close and construction projects that
were to be finished before the f;ill semester began remain .
unfinished, it becomes clear that, once again, UNCA’s priorities
do not include its students, but its reputation.
Ninety-four percent of UNCA students allot increasingly
more of their student fees each year to maintain UNCA’s
idealistic dreams of glory, that, much like a berth in the NCAA
tournament, never come to pass.
We would like to wish every single athlete the best of luck in
the hopes that one day their achievements will validate the
expenditures of many for the hopes of few.
Until students can leave for the summer knowing that the
highest student fee rate in the UNC system Von’t increase, the
Tuition Policy Task Force is merely an untested watchdog for
bureaucracy. While the task force will hold UNCA accountable
for any fee increases it proposes, the chance that it will shoot
down any of those proposals is slim. Making the UNC system
schools file a little more paperwork in order to get fee increases
approved is not going to stop them from occuring far too often.
If the group’s suggestions and watchful eyes can prevent what
adjunct cuts and majority opinion cannot, then we applaud
their efforts. This is not an area where effort alone is rewarded,
though. We demand results.
Playground of the imagination
Semester after semester, the plaintive, yet unheeded, cry for
on-campus childcare can be heard echoing across UNCA. In an
effort to appease the people, the Student Government Associa
tion continually forms committees that are supposed to work,
on making childcare a reality. And, with each committee, the
administration rejects the bill and continues doing exactly what
it wants.
SGA continues to go in circles on the childcare issue, instead
of starting with a problem and making sure it gets fixed by
creative means that will produce realistic solutions. Proposing
the same bill repeatedly, only to see the administration shoot it
down each time, is not the most effective method of problem
solving.
While persistance is key to being successful with childcare, or
anything, the time for the administration to take action passed
by a long time ago.
SGA needs to concentrate on setting realistic goals. The
student body wants childcare, but SGA’s numerous failed
attempts at getting it only serve to make it a subject of ridicule
on campus.
In the meantime, the administration is making an effort to
temporarily satisfy those who want childcare with a new toy
that dodges the real problem. The proposed plans to renovate
Highsmith University Center include a playground. No one
will be around to watch students’ children while they are in
class, but they can watch their little ones play in between classes
Besides the obviously lame attempt at appearing to serve
students needs while, in reality, not doing anything at all, the
administration cannot build a playground until Highsmith
receives full funding. UNCA’s administration and SGA appar
ently share the same problem of not having a firm enough grasp
on reality.
Childcare is not going to happen at UNCA anytime soon, but
don’t despair, there are still enough problems floating around to
keep SGA busy, instead of wasting our time.
Liam
Bryan
columnist
Look out, readers! Stop right where
you are! If you are walking across
campus at this moment, you are in
unspeakable danger. AH around
you, where you probably never even
noticed, are insidious beings of ill
will. I speak of nothing less than...
the landscape. That’s right readers,
those daisies have designs on your
life.
1 see you out there, now, sur
rounded by sinful shrubberies, quiv
ering at the newfound enlighten
ment. What perfidious posies seek
to snuff out your life?
Walk warily, reader, you know
not where wily witherods want to
wreck wrongs upon you. Having
applied all adhibitions of allitera
tion, I must now explain what the
bejeezus it is that I speak of, these
peccant plants.
We have a vegetation problem on
this campus. Don’t you believe me?
Youshould. Ifyoudoubtmy words,
just look at what the foliage is doing
at Phillips Hall. We currently have
huge swaths of netting covering the
plants to keep them from running
amok on the quad. Thank good
ness for our landscape maintenance
crews, who help tame these savage
pollen farms. We should be prais
ing these tireless, unthanked guard
ians for protecting us from the flow
ers.
Yes, the maintenance crew works
hard to save our hides from evil
plants. Why, Carmichael would be
buried under a pile of ravenous
leaves were it not for these indefati
gable workers. But we thankfully
have these men and women of leaf
enforcement who wield mighty gas-
powered weapons of herbal destruc
tion. Yes, we must pay for this
safety with a little auditory incon
venience, but that’s a small price to
pay for our safety.
Sure, there are those of you out
there who say that leaves do not
attack people. Let me enlighten you.
I have been attacked numerous
times by leaves that have already
been killed. That’s right, leaves
chopped up into really tiny pieces
tried to end my life. Even from the
throes of death, these misbegotten
bits of foliage attacked me. I was
walking through the battlegrounds
of maintenance and plants, where a
few lone workers were clearing away
the broken carcasses of leaves. And
those leaf blowers did nothing to
stop the little bits of leaves from
attacking my eyes. Oh well. I am
sure those brave warriors against
the violent veggies did every pos
sible thing they could to prevent
those peccant plants from pum-
meling my person.
Dear readers, do not believe that
those vile veggies will cease their
hostilities with the mantle of win
ter. Our brave maintenance work
ers never tire of driving around in
their little vehicles across the quad,
no doubt to weaken the chloro-
plasts of doom. Do not listen to the
heretics who say that the plants will
stop growing in winter, science has
proven that they grow year-rourid,
and thus our M.I.B. (Men In
Bushes) must be prepared to fight
them all through the colder months.
We do have problems, however.
We have no place to put the piles of
leaves! So, our protectors must do
the next best thing, and keep them
moving so that they will be too
disoriented to mount a resistance.
Ou r brave maintenance crew must
power up their mighty leaf blowers
and use them to blow the leaves. To
keep the plant bits moving, they
blow them around the garden
patches. First into the patch, then
out. First in, then out. It is the only
way to keep them moving, and
away from us.
To aid those brave warriors against
weeds, the university must finance
them with the best possible equip
ment possible. All the gas-powered
leaf blowers, big chainsaws, bigger
clipper thingies, and kooky litde
cars they can get. Let no one say we
spared any expense in the battle
against the bulbs! And if those de
fenders need to play around in their
cars a little, they deserve to, consid
ering the service they render.
Now, as for Carmichael. This
building is under siege more than
any other. Small wonder that the
majority of the leaf blowers must be
delegated to that front. And the
best time to fight against the foli
age? Why, during morning classes
of course! After the leaves have spent
long hours dancing pagan move
ments upon the mini-Quad, thei
are too tired to fight back. The loui
noise of the leaf blowers confiist
the leaves while they are buffetei
about. And besides, the noise ha
the added effect of waking up ani
groggy first-floor students. So wha
if the students cannot hear the pro
fessors? It is more important tha
the leaves are disposed of.
To those of you in Governo..
Village, I must assume that thf
maintenance crew apologizes fo
the long time it has taken to brin
the leaf blowers to you. But wasii
not worth the wait, to know thai
you will not strain your eyes look
ing at a blanket of leaves covering
the ground? I must warn you
though, not to walk outdoor until
well after the dust has settled. Thosf
leaf bits will poke your eye out
And, besides, those leaf blowcri
make excellent alarms in ca.se you
forgot to wake up. For those resi
dents who do not need such ai
alarm, and are instead woken prc
maturely for your noon class, you
nuist understand that the conve
nience of many outweighs the in
convenience of a few.
So give thanks for the leaf blow
ers. Praise the kooky litde cars. Em
brace hope at the sigh t of the m ight)'
maintenance men, made to mash
mums to mush. And give them a
break! They are trying to help you.
They are trying to improve the
visual beauty of this school. The
noise and leftovers may be difficult
to endure now, but just wait. They
cannot be rushed into doing things
that are secondary, like switching
to quiet rakes, that would be far too
dme-consuming. Or walking from
place to place on campus.
They will get rid of the leaves.
And, sooner or later, they will get
around to getting rid of that smell
in the foliage next to Ramsey Li
brary.
Bringing him up to eye level
A friend in need
In an unexpected turn of events, the racquetball courts have
once again undergone repairs in order to stop them from
swelling. A phenomenon that has never occured before in the
Health and Fitness Center, the culprit has been identified as too
much humidity from an unknown source.
Anonymous sources have made The Banner aware that all the
buildings on campus are built to fall apart within the first year
so students, faculty, and staff can build lasting relationships
with all the different people who are hired to fix them. At
UNCA, people come first, and college is the perfect time to
bond with people from all kinds of different backgrounds.
Since the majority of the housekeeping staff was moved to
third shift in order to not inconvenience students, somebody
had to take their place. The continuous construction projects
around campus provide the perfect opportunity for students to
meet new people while tripping over power tools. Diversity
such as this can only happen at a liberal arts university.
Teresa
Calloway
columnist
This month, 1 took my first plane
trip. Despite having crossed the
continental U.S. on a number of
occasions, I had never done so by
air, and I anticipated the event
greatly. Our lovely university sent
me as a delegate to a national diver
sity conference sponsored by the
Association of American Colleges
and Universities.
Are you asking why the adminis
tration sent me, a piddly sopho
more, to Philadelphia to learn di
versifying strategies for our campus
while simultaneously making ad
junct cuts that will severely impede
that same diversity? It’s a good ques
tion, and .one I, frankly, have no
answer to. Perhaps the money was
allocated ” by those exasperating
legislators in Raleigh who believe
we need more money for our sports
complex while our beloved
Highsmith rots above our very
heads. Whatever.
The point here is that I flew in a
big, cool plane. And I learned a lot.
I listened to educators from all over
the country talk about how they are
reflecting diversity in their biology
curricula, how promoting multi-
culturalism shouldn’t be seen as a
politically-correct manuever neces
sary when people from different
cultures meet, but a system of edu
cation from which even the most
homogeneous institution can ben
efit. I took notes while prominent
authors spoke, I choked back vomit
after hearing phrases like “reframing
the issue” and “otherness” for the
50th time. I met with students con
cerned with diversity issues on their
own campuses.
The conference was, for me, very
inspiring. I felt supported by my
administration and faculty in my
endeavors. I saw what changing the
status quo might feel like, under
stood that questioning the normal
mode of operations may be tiring,
but can often be rewarding. The
whole thing was very liberal arts.
But on the trip back to Asheville,
a few things happened. Very dis
couraging things, things that make
one cynical, bitter, selfish. And
though its impossible to prove quan
titatively, I get the eerie feeling these
embittering encounters have beeri
happening all my life.
So, I m in the Pittsburgh airport,
riding on this little tram that carts
humans from one side of the air
port to another. I’m holding the
rail, and I look around. You know,
to orient myself
The middle-aged man next to me
is staring at my bosom. I could
mince words and say “he seemed to
be” or “in the general direction of,”
but there’s really no getting around
it. He started to look up at me. For
a split second, 1 saw his eyes begin
the journey upward to mine, a
rendevous of those proverbial win
dows of the soul , and I looked away.
As I stared at die blank space per-
haps a foot to the left of his head, I
wondered why. The only think 1
could come up with, indeed, the
only thing I still come up with after
pondering before bed and for a few
minutes in the morning as I sip
coffee, is embarrassment.
Not embarrassment for me, as I
hadn’t done anything wrong, but
embarrassment for him, at the pros
pect of being caught doing some
thing he shouldn’t. Embarrassment
is so awkward a feeling, isn’t it?
What surprises me is the dismay
ing discovery that I am so condi
tioned by my world that I consider
this the most acceptable behavior
under the conditions. To look away
when a man the age of my father
examines my breasts in a non-medi
cal setting is so ingrained that its
almost instinctual.
As a child, my brother and I prac
ticed sneezing with our eyes open.
We vigorously worked to defy the
power of instinct, with all its bio
logical advantages. (Anyone who
has kept their eyes wide open dur
ing a sneeze can attest to the bio
logical disadvantage it presents.)
I was reflecting on all of this while
keeping my gaze politely averted
from the man, and I grew very
depressed. Having mentally associ
ated my desire to avoid the man’s
gaze with a basic biological funo
tion made me think that perhap:
this, too, is selected for genetically.
Perhaps all the women who looked
men squarely in the eye after being
ogled are extinct, because the men
found it so uncomfortable that re
production was simply out of the
question. This theory would make
me a confirmed genetic mutant,
which several of you on this cam
pus have likely suspected for some
time.
This means the Baptists are right.
You know, the ones who believe
women should “graciously submit”
to the will of their male relatives.
Men hold half the power in deter
mining who will reproduce and
who won’t, and if I’ve found several
to be indiscriminate in areas such as
intelligence, maybe it’s only be
cause their criterium are different
than mine: find a woman who will
relieve a potentially awkward situ
ation by averting her eyes and get
her pregnant:
Woman s positon on the lower
rung of the gender ladder is not
entirely a social construction, but a
genetic reality determined by the
strength of the status quo. That
same status quo I was trying to
change at the beginning of this
column.
Well, all this happened in my
mind, and, needless to say, I can’t
verify it scientifically. What I can
do is exhalt my status as a mutant of
the human species by challenging
my instinct be it social, genetic, or
both.
So, I turned and looked right at
the man. I stared him right in the
face, and I am here to testify that it
required at least as much chutzpah
as sneezing with my eyes open. But
it was too late. He was looking at
my breasts. Again.