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8The Daily Tar Heel Wednesday, March 23, 1988
96th year of editorial freedom
KATHY PETERS, Managing Editor
KARI N BELL, Ntus Editor
MATT BlVENS, Associate Editor
KlMBERLY EDENS, University Editor
SHARON KEBSCHULL, State and National Editor
MIKE BERARDINO, Sports Editor
Kelly Rhodes, Arts Editor
MANDY SPENCE, Design Editor
Sending the wrong message
UNC doesn't care
about its black bOUd
Thai's the message Opinion
Gillian Cell, dean of
the College of Arts and Sciences, has
sent by refusing to consider students
complaints about her proposal to
restructure the Office of Student
The future of the counseling office
has been in doubt since January, when
the office's head, Associate Dean
Hayden Renwick, announced plans to
resign. Renwick had served as a father
figure to UNC's minority students for
close to 20 years.
After Renwick's announcement, a
"committee of students" representing
several campus groups asked that their
opinions be considered in any plans
to replace Renwick or to restructure
the office. The students said no
administrators responded to their
The proposal Cell presented to the
Faculty Council last week would
restructure the counseling office by
placing Elson Floyd, associate dean
for academic services, in charge of the
office. It would eliminate Renwick's
position. Instead, an assistant dean
under Floyd would serve as the office's
Administrators often accuse stu
dents of waiting too long to get
Lack of campus
Long ago, early man knew a need
to express himself. He traced the
outline of his hand on cave walls and
drew representations of battles and
other scenes from his life. Since these
early forms of artistic expression, art
has become universally recognized as
a valuable, even necessary, cultural
experience. The appalling lack of art
work on UNC's campus does not
reflect that need.
Yes, there are a few forms of artistic
expression that have managed lo
survive here, despite vandalous
attacks. There is a sculpture in front
of Davis Library. It's sort of rusted,
and most people make derogatory
remarks when they pass by it, but at
least it is a form of artistic expression.
The Undergraduate Library also
contains a few forms of artistic
expression that often draw derisive
remarks. And Silent Sam is a statue,
but it's really more of a historic marker
than an actual work of art.
There are a couple of gargoyles and
a statue of a bishop stuck on the
outside of Person Hall. They were
given to the University by English
officials, who didn't want them and
took them off Big Ben because they
were too weathered. Despite their
worn appearance, the gargoyles and
the bishop are some of the most
interesting art works on campus.
Probably the most accessible display
The Daily Tar Heel
Editorial Writers: Kelly Clark, Stuart Hathaway and Bill Yelverton.
Editorial Assistants: Laura Pearlman and Becky Riddick.
Assistant Managing Editors: Hannah Drum, Barbara Linn, Felisa Neuringer, Laura Pearlman and Clay Thorp.
Assistant Design Editors: Cara Bonnett and Teresa Kriegsman.
Design Assistants: Ashley Campbell, Katherine Hortenstine and Laura Ross.
News: Kari Barlow, Jeanna Baiter, Katie Beck, Crystal Bell, Laura Bennett, James Benton, Tammy Blackard Patricia
Brown, Brenda Campbell, Lacy Churchill, Jenny Cloninger, Staci Cox, Robin Curtis, Jackie Douglas, Carrie Dove
Laura Francis, Eric Gribbin, Amy Grubbs, William Hildebolt, Kyle Hudson, Suzette Hughes, Sonya Jackson, Helen
Jones, Patrice Jones, Chris Landgraff, Barbara Linn, Laura Mayfield, Brian McCollum, Rebecca Nesbit, Helle Nielsen
Susan Odenkirchen, Laura Peay, Cheryl Pond, Beth Rhea, Mark Shaver, Christopher Sontchi, Laura Summer, William
Taggart, Clay Thorp and Amy Weisner. Laura DiGiano, assistant city editor. Amy Winslow, assistant state and
national editor. Mark Folk and Justin McGuire, senior writers. Peter Lineberry, Lisa Poole and Juliellen Sarver
Sports: Patton McDowell, Jim Muse and Chris Spencer, assistant sports editors. James Surowiecki senior writer
Robert D'Arruda, Chris Chapman, Steve Giles, Dave Glenn, Dave Hall, Clay Hodges, Ginger Jonas, Brendan Mathews'
Patton McDowell, Keith Parsons, Andy Podolsky and Langston Wertz.
Features: Jo Lee Credle, Myrna Miller, Jim Mock, Corin Ortlam, Leigh Pressley, Carole Southern, Ellen Thornton
Linda van den Berg, Julie Woods and Holly Young.
Arts: James Burrus, senior writer. Scott Cowen, Stephanie Dean, Kim Donehower, Elizabeth Ellen David Hester
Julie Olson, Alston Russell and Michael Spinas.
Photography: Christie Blom, Amy Hamilton, Janet Jarman, Elizabeth Morrah, Jeff Shuler and Julie Stovall.
Copy Editors: Cara Bonnett, Carrie Burgin, Julia Coon, Whitney Cork, Bert Hackney and Sherry Miller.
Cartoonists: Bill Cokas, Jeff Christian and Greg Humphreys.
Campus Calendar: Mindelle Rosenberg and David Starnes.
Business and Advertising: Anne Fulcher, director; Patricia Glance, advertising director; Joan Worth, advertising
coordinator; Peggy Smith, advertising manager; Sheila Baker, business manager; Rita Galloway, accounts receivable
clerk; Michael Benfield, Ashley Hinton, Kellie McElhaney, Amy McGuirt, Chrissy Mennitt, Stacey Montford, Lesley
Renwnck, Julie Settle, Dave Slovensky, Dean Thompson, Amanda Tilley and Wendy Wegner, display advertising
representatives; Dtane Cheek, Stephanie Chesson. Tina Perry and Lisa Poole, classified advertising representatives;
and Jeff Carlson and Kris Carlson, secretaries.
Subscriptions: Tucker Stevens, manager; Cody McKinney, assistant.
Distribution: David Econopouly, manager; Cindy Cowan and Billy Owens, assistants.
Production: Bill Leslie and Stacy Wynn. Genevieve Halkett, Leslie Humphrey, Stephanie Locklear and Tammy Sheldon,
Printing: The Chapel Hill Newspaper.
Jean Lutes, Editor
JON RUST, Managing Editor
KAARIN TlSUE, Ntus Editor
Amy Hamilton, a ssociate Editor
Kristen Gardner, University Editor
Will Lingo, aty Editor
Leigh ann Mcdonald, Features Editor
CATHY McHUGH, Omnibus Editor
DAVID MINTON, Photography Editor
involved, or of complaining after
decisions already have been made. The
students who visited Cell were not
guilty of either of these. They gave Cell
a list of their concerns and requested
to be involved in any decisions. They
But administrators could not ignore
the more than 400 students who
gathered on the steps of South Build
ing Tuesday to protest Cell's plans.
Both Cell and Chancellor Christopher
Fordham came out of their offices to
hear the protesters. The question now
is whether they listened.
Cell said she would not reconsider
her proposal. In doing so, she told all
of UNC's black students that their
opinions about their own counseling
service do not matter.
Minority students on this campus
need the personal and academic
support offered by the counseling
office. Reorganizing an office that
exists to help those students without
consulting them is foolish at best.
Cell's refusal to listen is a slap in
the face to all students. They should
not have had to march on South
Building to force the administration
to hear their concerns.
Now, there is more at stake than
the Office of Student Counseling. All
students have a right to be a part of
decisions that affect them. Adminis
trators must learn to respect that right.
art is appalling
of art work is the Union Gallery. And
Hanes Art Center has a small gallery
that usually exhibits student work, but
the building is so far removed from
central campus that few students make
As you can tell, examples of art
work on campus are few and far
The senior class of 1988 is donating
money for a fountain that will be
placed in front of Bynum Hall. While
some graduate students are
understandably upset because the
fountain will replace their volleyball
court, this is a step in the right
This is a large campus, and the
proportion of art works to space is
very small. The campus needs more
art works that everyone can see and
enjoy not just a couple of small
galleries and a rusting sculpture. Art
promotes creativity and inspires those
who observe it to think in new ways
and to broaden their horizons.
Future graduating classes, artists
and people who wish to make dona
tions to the University should consider
giving art works or money for the
purchase of art works. Art and other
forms of creative expression should be
encouraged and readily available to
everyone in the University commu
nity. Amy Hamilton
We all need a little Mother Goose
Monday's child is fair of face
Tuesday's child is full of grace
Wednesday 's child is full of woe
Thursday 's child has far to go
Fridays child is loving and giving
Saturdays child works hard for a living
And the child that is born on the Sabbath
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.
Ve always loved this Mother Goose
rhyme; no matter where it's said or seen
Jiprinted, it always invokes the subcon
scious urge to call mom and ask her what
day of the week it was when you were
ejected from the warm comfort of her
womb. Chances are that she can't
remember either, but if she does, you are
stuck with the curse or blessing that the
rhyme bestows upon your entire existence.
It's a little like astrology, where your
personality, mood swings and sex life are
dependent on what time of year your
parents decided to procreate except that
astrology is a little more comforting. Even
moody Scorpios will build churches and
cure cancer, but if they were born on a
Thursday, they might as well be put to
sleep at birth.
Does that seem pretty stupid? I'd hope
so, but nonetheless the fact that we feel
a twitch of foreboding about that kind of
stuff at all leads to the dumpster of the
human mind: subconscious superstition.
And I'm not talking about lucky bowling
shirts and dead grandmothers on Friday
the thirteenth: I mean the basic underlying
feeling that our entire lives are controlled
by the most piddly things imaginable.
We're pretty gullible, as individuals
no matter how intelligent we think we are,
deep down we always have this horrible
feeling that someone else may have more
of a clue than we do. I'm sure even Einstein
felt the urge a time or two to ask his
hairdresser for some nuclear advice. And
so we put our mental stock into little
sayings and weird actions, thinking that
some brilliant soul long ago had walked
around a ladder and thus saved his species
To the editor:
I can no longer hold down
my disgust. In fact, I would like
nothing more than to vomit all
of it over your desk. My
extreme repugnance accrues
from the inept coverage of a
recent magnificent accomplish
ment by none other than Rob
Rob Koll, the winningest
wrestler in ACC history, four
time All-American, and
National Champion at 158
pounds, deserves much more
than a page 10, short, incon
spicuous article in the DTH,
downplaying his phenomenal
accomplishments. It totally
baffles me how someone can
achieve such an incredible
accomplishment not only
winning nationals, but pinning
his opponent in 1:14 and go
virtually unrecognized in DTH
Because you have already
shown your indifference
toward Rob Koll's fantastic
achievement, then I believe that
a good measure of contrition
and redemption is required for
your careless coverage. Rob
Koll is certainly someone we
can all admire, respect and
thank for representing our
Learning process should
As near as I can calculate, I'm in
the 43rd grade and still not close
to graduating. In other words, IVe
been in school for all but five years of my
life the first five years. Whereas other
people talk in terms of calendar years or
fiscal years, I talk in terms of academic
years that begin on August 20th or so.
Most people move through four natural
seasons, but I move through two semester
seasons and a long summer.
My non-academic friends react in
diverse ways to this collegiate life of mine.
Some of them envy or resent that four
month summer vacation. "Four months to
read, to write, or to sit around and swat
mosquitoes that's a helluva job you
have!" Some barely conceal their pity or
scorn that I never made it out into the
real world of grownups, profit and loss,
and no tenure. "Doesn't it get boring to
teach the same old Presidents and world
wars to a new crop of kids?" Indeed, after
20 years at Carolina, it's come to the point
where I meet former students, now a bit
portly and gray and pushing baby strollers,
who say: "Still teaching History 115? I
remember that course." While they squint
nostalgically, I ask myself: "Why am I still
doing this? Isn't it time to graduate?"
Once I tried to graduate. In 1970, at
the height of the so-called Sixties, I decided
that teaching inside a classroom inside a
hierarchical university was suffocating me.
I wanted freedom from curricular require
ments, grading systems, publish-or-perish
rules, and all the other impersonal,
unspontaneous, unexperiential aspects of
academe. I decided to work in a youth
crisis center in New Haven, counseling kids
and helping Hispanics get federal funds for
a medical clinic. That was in June.
By August I was homesick for my
from sure extinction. Mother Goose?
Obviously this lady had some divine
intervention when she made up her clever
little ditties. Can you imagine if, in every
situation, we struck while the iron was hot
and looked before we leaped? How about
the "out of sight, out of mind" type girl
whose absence made your heart grow
fonder? If you ask me, Mother Goose was
a paranoid schizophrenic born on a
Now, before I have Library Science grad
students attacking me in the Pit with their
bookbags, screaming about mixed meta
phors and misquoted Shakespeare, under
stand that I mean Mother Goose in the
grand sense, that great mystical lady who
is a hit at anyone's bedtime. But the weight
we give senseless ideas in our lives runs
much deeper than that, almost verging on
the neurotic. When I was a wee lad in Iowa,
I had this consuming notion that there was
something innately evil about odd
numbers. I would go out of my way to
make sure I never had three or five of
anything, even if it meant throwing one
of them away. I slept with two pillows,
ate an even number of Ho-Hos at every
picnic, and always flushed the toilet twice.
My parents must have thought I had a
bladder the size of Pittsburgh. The strange
thing was that I continued to do these
things unconsciously even as I got older.
It was so deeply ingrained in my instincts
that even as a freshman in Hinton James,
I could feel the shaky urge to yank the
Quiet-Flush handle just one more time.
God forbid that I should imply that
everyone has these neurotic tendencies, but
I think everyone expresses their silly beliefs
in some way. Who would dare throw away
their fortune inside a cookie at a Chinese
restaurant without reading it? And who
is not delighted at good news or slightly
institution in such a grand
Class of 1987
that's the ticket
To the editor:
It is time to change the way
we choose our president.
I propose that we implement
a lottery system. Anyone who
wants to be president can
purchase a ticket and then in
early November, on prime-time
TV, the winner will be drawn.
A lottery system would bring
with it a number of significant
benefits. All presidential aspi
rants would have an equal
chance. The proceeds from the
sale of the lottery tickets could
go to reduce the national
deficit. The contributions usu
courses, my colleagues and my books.
Freedom was just another word for
nothing else to do, especially not enough
to do with learning and teaching. So back
I went to Hamilton Hall and haven't
regretted it since.
But let me clear up some possible
misunderstandings. Although I have been
teaching American history for almost a
quarter-century and in fact have
majored in history since my freshman year
I have not at all been doing the same
old thing. This is the point of this essay.
(At this juncture, I'm embarrassed to
realize that I'm about to disobey the topic
sentence rule that I ask my students to
obey, so I had better start a new paragraph
Learning by definition reaches toward
the new, the yet-to-be-known. And being
the kind of teacher who enjoys helping
others and myself learn, teaching has been
for me constantly renewing or dare I
say it? rejuvenating. Twenty years ago,
for example, I was teaching seminars titled
"The History of Extremism in America"
and "The History of Protest Movements."
Fifteen years ago, along with three women
graduate students, I launched a course on
the history of American women. Ten years
ago, feeling the itch to study materials more
tangible than ideas floating invisibly in
midair or typed on a page, I created a
course on the history of photography.
Lately, I taught a seminar on biography
worried at bad?
It doesn't stop there; people pay money
for these things. There are those Rate Your
Romantic Passion machines in arcades,
where you insert a quarter, hold the handle
and the machine randomly assigns you a
romantic light bulb rating. Eternal deso
lation and impotence befalls the hapless
soul who is rated "harmless" or even worse,
It's amazing what a role absolute luck
plays in our feelings. I was recently at a
party that had a reverse raffle going to
pick the winner of a trip to the Bahamas.
After the drawing, the winner had a certain
magical quality about him the other
guests congratulated him with a subtle
respect reserved for those who possess
something that can't be taught or con
trolled, even though he did no more than
everyone else who entered the contest.
But is there some truth to their feelings
of envy? Don't good things keep happening
to the same people? Aren't there just a
whole hell of a lot of beautiful Tauruses
who always win the raffles, get rated
"Uncontrollable" at all the arcades and find
fortunes that promise Porsches and
Swedish masseuses? Before we go dream
ing about master races of Sunday babies,
remember how history deals with those
who think that some people are innately
better humans than others. Seems to me
that more than a few people have died for
stupider reasons than anything my sweet
Mother Goose could have told me at
And so we go, inexorably joined at the
hip with our ignorant Siamese twin,
reverent disciples to a religion of luck and
circumstance. Whoever created us must be
laughing hysterically. So if youH excuse
me, IVe got some mirrors to shatter and
some black cats to squash with my
Ian Williams is a junior music and
psychology major from Los Angeles who
was actually born on a Friday.
ally made to political candi
dates by individuals and PACs
could instead be donated to
charities and other worthwhile
causes. Finally, and most
importantly, we would be
spared all the mind-numbing
clap-trap associated with the
usual political campaign.
In other words, so long as I put "the
history of in front of the title, I can get
away with teaching it, studying it, enjoying
it. For half my life IVe majored in history,
but it hasn't been the same history. It has
changed as I have changed. With each new
phase I had to learn new information and
new skills, which meant being a student
of other people (in UNC summer school,
at Duke, at the Carrboro Arts Center, at
Rhode Island School of Design) and of
books in strange fields.
What does my story have to do with
yours? Well, if you're an undergraduate
about to get out from under and graduate,
I hope you don't tuck those 120 hours
beneath your arm and stop learning. If you
do, then I and my fellow teachers will have
failed. After Commencement, there will be
50 or 60 years of life for you to fill with
something, and I hope that something is
not simply the same young you.
If you want inspiration, consider what
my friends have been doing in their thirties,
forties or even older. There's John, who
earned a pilot's license. And Erica, who's
taking her first drawing class. And Pete,
a carpenter who's writing a novel about
Vietnam. And Bob, who found that he
hated being a lawyer and is working on
a Ph.D. in Renaissance Literature. And
Sue, mother of two boys in junior high
school, who decided at age 35 to go to
school herself medical school.
Keep on truckin', they used to say in
the Sixties. Keep on learnin', is how I say
Peter Filene is a Bowman and Gordon
Gray professor of history from Chapel Hill,