September 26.1978
Continue Your Education — Talk With Sybille Colby
By SUSAN J. SHUFORD
"I would like to make a
plea for more student input,"
states Sybille Colby, Guilford's
new Associate Dean and Pro
fessor of German. Sybille is
genuinely interested in the
student population. In spite
of her busy schedule, she
enjoys talking to students
and would like to see more of
them.
Ms. Colby's title is more
than a shade misleading.
Actually, she is primarily in
charge of planning and admin
istration of Guilford's Continu
ing Education Programs. As
such, Sybille is especially
interested in dissolving the
residual tensions present
between main campus and
urban center, a task she can
more readily accomplish with
the feedback of students.
Presently Sybille's position
is mainly administrative,
but that doesn't mean she
isn't involved with both stu
dents and faculty. On the
contrary, if her plans
crystalize, the college will
soon see some innovative new
additions to the curriculum.
Sybille is especially excited
about the possibilities of ex
panding Guilford's Arts and
Humanities programs. In
order to increase student
appreciation of other peoples
and cultures she would like to
see Guilford offer more non
western courses and specific
ally a course in Jewish
studies.
Other of Sybille's plans
include the addition of non
credit mini-courses on such
diverse topics as child abuse
and arts and crafts.
Talking to Sybille Colby is
like listening to chapters of a
tantalizing novel. She is a
fascinating person with many
spell-binding tales to relate.
Sybille was born in Silesia
Germany, a region which was
annexed by Poland after
World War 11. Sybille and her
family, who are Jewish, immi
grated to America in order to
escape the Nazi halocaust.
For Sybille, immigrating
to America included a rough
nine-day ocean voyage in
the dead of winter. At the end
of this passage, Sybille and
her parents landed in New
York City, which was to
become their new home.
In Germany Sybille was
prevented from attending
school because she was
Jewish. Since the only English
in her vocabulary was the
lyrics to "All Around the
Mulberry Bush," Sybille was
forced to adapt quickly to her
new language and culture.
She and her parents soon
overcame these obstacles,
while also managing to recoup
their personal assests which
were all confiscated by the
Nazi Reich.
Those of Sybille's fami'v
who escaped Germany are
now scattered from one side
of the globe to the other.
Australia, South America and
Israel are their homes. Only
Sybille's two children, both
of whom are lawyers, remain
in the U.S.
Sybille attended Barnard
College, where she graduated,
summa cum laude, with a
B.A. in German Literature.
By STEVE KAPLAN
Then the moon blazed down
Upon the vast desolation of
American coasts. . .
Thomas Wolfe
In the '6B blood red Torine
we slashed across the Pied
mont's orange belly, singing
and telling old tales and laugh
ing at guilded memories.
We barreled down the country
boulevards, highways 98 and
64, twisting our trail between
the green necked 'bacca stalks,
all primed, stiff and skyward.
We filled the Piedmont
twilight with stories from the
family of Man. From memory
to Ireland to New York
recollections to fall Florida
ward, and thence back to
North Carolina via the local
vocal yokel, we let our tales
wander (pausing only for the
momentary gasp of a blue
strobe-lighted instrusion). We
were criminals escaped,
provincials sewn, students
ignited, launched towards
the full summer-ending moon
to catch a glimpse of her
ivory reflection in the inter
coastal mirror of North
Carolina's Outer Banks. We
cruised the dark ribbons of a
Biophile package deal and
filled the car with the cool
relaxed laughter of compres
sed childhoods escaping
through a prick in the semest
er's tough side. We were
goin to de bichl
We took tangients, of
course, quick steps in small
stores with bottle shaped
thermometers by the screen
doors, where inside are fat
men and women in tight slacks
and racks of old sunglasses,
ice cream and beer and tackles
and fishing caps, petted
meat and gallon jars of eggs
soaked in vinegar, and
Greensboro. N.C
She acquired both her M.A.
and her Ph.D. in Germanics
from Columbia University and
subsequently went on to teach
at several colleges and
universities.
In 1968, Ms. Colby accepted
a position with the newly
founded Kirkland Colleqe, a
woman's college affiliated
with Hamilton, an exclusive
men's college in Clinton,
NY.
The college opened with a
freshman class and total of 19
faculty members, all of whom
were told in effect, to "build
a college."
It seems that Ms. Colby
was one of a few experienced
faculty members, most of
Inside the Outer Banks Trip
so forth, in general. And
so, on we veered into such
realms of capitalist fantasy as
The Big T and Tasty Freeze
and Dairy Queens which
quenched the drive's hungers
in a series of quickie, into the
elegant seats of Franchize
ment, the American pimp. We
ordered while our senses were
fondled by the smell of old
ketchup, stepped on hot dogs,
oil on the pavement and grease
in the fries; by the wonderfully
musical electric blue light kept
cracklin by thousands of
freedom seeking insects each
night; by the sliding screen
window all misted by splat
tered mosquitoes and gnats;
while pale piedmont cowboys
stood bloodshot and smiling in
the flourescent warmth of the
parking lot, against the polished
sides of their four wheel drive
stallions, smiling at our
strangely accented non
sequitors.
Yeah, the radio blared fifties
and top forties and old gold to
cushion our ears. We passed
a field full of orange. Must be
a crayon patch; a movie set;
nuclear mutated underground
orange trees; a Vitamin C
coven. The herd of future
jack-o-lanterns awaited
their Judgement Day. (In Ire
land they use turnips, big
one . . .) The music dropped
away to the loud roaring of a
black preacher beaten to shriek
heavenly inspired wisdom
by the Bible Belt while
a background of followers
amenned him onward.
Changing the station only
changed the color. We learned
the address we can write to
(but, damnit, you never have
a pencil when you need one,
doncha know, brothers and
sisters) to mail our Especially
Spiritual Offerings and so see
whom were just out of graduate
school. There was no admin
istrative staff as such.
"I began to talk a lot, and
haven't stopped since," reports
Ms. Colby, and that*s how she
herself became an adminis
trator, first at Kirkland, and
now here at Guilford!
Ever since, Sybille has tried
to combine administration
and teaching. Next semester
she will be teaching IDS, and
she also hopes to teach some
Germanics in the future.
Interestingly Enough, Sybille
is part of a three-some of
former Kirkland faculty
members who joined the Guil
ford community this year.
When Kirkland merged with
manifested upon us, in the
Long Run, the most satisfying,
blessed trinkets of gratitude
and extended bliss, guaranteed
to remove all blemishes and
memories of earthly sin and
suffering or your hard earned
money back, so help us God.
(Jonathan Edwards is ageless
and sweats hard for his for
tune in the Carolinas.)
We went back past all of it,
that is, we followed the brown
muddy watershed down from
the Piedmont to the warm
salty mother, through the red
clay to the white sands of
new and then and before then,
before we pale pink people
had landed; we came from
inside, back-tracking the trail
of a dream to the birth site
of a dreaming nation. We
wandered confused over bridge
after backbone bowed bridge
until we lost all sight of the
present but the delicate coastal
road. We finally sniffed out
a comfortable campsite and
the Biophile Club settled in
behind rows of green Boy
Scouts on a strip of protec
tive coarse greenery between
the belly of the loud salty
mother and her warm brackish
inlet. There was a tiny grave
yard with a white picket fence
in the rough shrubbery, but
the names were erased.
We slept night after night
in our nylon fortresses and
insect repellants, sheltered
against mosquitoes and cloudy
skies, four to a two, two to
two, tooth to tee, chit chat, tit
tat. Sleep conceived in miles
of music, time, sand and
sweat. And we rolled in the
ocean and our hearts beat in
rhythm with the low roar thaf s
end'ess, prehistoric and
prophetic. (Millions of sand
crabs were washed from their
wet holes to scramble back
page five
Hamilton in 1978, Sybille,
Katherine Frasier (the new
Dean of the Faculty) and Ellen
O'Brien (Guilford's latest
addition to the English
Department) all decided to go
elsewhere.
Partly by coincidence,
and partly as a result of a close
friendship and a little
manuevering all three ended
up at Guilford.
When asked why she chose
Guilford, among several other
offers, Sybille replied, "There's
a special human quality to this
place," which coming from
Sybille Colby says a great
deal for Guilford College.
down again endlessly down
again fighting the ceaseless
necessity of the ocean's up
rooting force.) We swam in
the sunlight and water and
moonbeams, seeing ourselves
and each other in wonder.
Recharged and exhausted,
we came back to climb between
the cool sheets of Guilford,
to sooth the sunburn and bug
bites, to pull up the covers of
schedules and papers and
readings and dreams of escape
that flew back to the ocean.
NCPIRG
Brings
Expert
By BILL HALL
Tomorrow, Wednesday
night, Chip Reynolds of the
American Friends Service
Committee of High Point,
will speak on Nuclear Waste
Transportation, at 9 p.m. in
the Gallery. After that meeting
Chip will be talking to those
people interested in working
on the Nuclear Waste Trans
portation Through Greensboro
Report. Chip has been work
ing on Waste Transportation
for a number of years, and is
eager to get the wheels rollin'
on this report.
Members of Carolina Action
and Coalition for Safe Energy
will also be meeting the Guilford
P.I.R.G. people to help us
with our report.
Material and research topics
which need to be examined
in detail will be assigned to all
those meeting with Chip, and
willing to put some effort into
this community report.
For more information,
contact Bill Hall or Richard
Fulton in George White fT7.
Peace.