Newspaper Page Text
Stage and Script Previews
RON “SNOOPY” SNll’KS
Editor
I’hil Kaisoii.
Asst. Editor
\llai. Kuheson Business Manager
Stiiff H riUTs: Shicia Marker, Ann Dixon, Blay Holland, Joe
Hiinniiutl, .lohn I’aca, Jackie J’arker, James Shepherd
I’lKttoKrapher Snipes
I’lililished weekly hy students attending Atlantic Christian
( ollege, Wilson, 27S»:i. The views expressed herein are
not nei essarily those of the faculty or administration of .\C C .
Campus Psychology
The program 60 Minutes recently devoted a good deal
of time to the City College of New York City where there
has been controversy over the school’s inability to
provide students with a higher education. The theme of
the report was, basically, that the college is not giving
people a higher education as it is supposed to do,
because many students lack the basic abilities to do
even high school work.
While the situation at ACC is somewhat remote from
the City College of New York City, perhaps, it too, is not
giving students the high quality education college it is
supposed to give them. The reason is not necessarily
that the students do not have the background to do
college work, nor is it that the college fails to provide a
way in which students can learn and grow. Rather, the
failure is due to the strain of anti-intellectualism that
pervades all student life, and with it, the feeling that
thinking and expressing oneself with even the slightest
degree of articulation is an area best left to professors
and to quiet bed-time conversations.
For my own part, perhaps I was disillusioned with
college in a somewhat naive way, for I believed in the
myth of the book-lined dormitory room, I truly believed
that at night the fellows would gather ’round, now and
then at least, and talk of things that, in my mind,
transcend dates and parties and downtown — perhaps
r»i mistaken. The point is that there is so little
tolerance for anyone that speaks articulately or
someone who talks of, say, politics, that at times it
seems as though the aim of college life is to limit a
person’s vocabulary to several unexpressive cliches and
a few nouns and verbs.
Admittedly, however, there are people who attempt
to make themselves smart by making others dumb, but
there certainly aren’t enough of them to cause the kind
of attitude prevailent around here. Also, the feeling is
that those people who attempt to actualize the things
they are learning in the classroom are putting on airs.
This is ridiculous, because for every person that puts
on a facade of intellectuality,ihere is at least one
counter-part to him that puts on a facade of stupidity.
Ideally, of course “men should be what they seem” and
not something else, but until that happens wouldn’t it be
better if all the assorted people of this campus had a
little more tolerance of other people unlike themselves?
If college is a learning experience, let it be a full one
where people can speak of the whole range of human
experience — be it a hot date or communism — without
equal acceptance from both sides of the fence,
John Paca
/
Above Left,
Tridget of (ireva
A bove.
Slam The Door Softly
Left, One Leg Too Few
Below,
Heal Class
Below,
.Night
Kar Below,
.\ight
One
Acts
Stage and Script's spring
production of student directed
One Acts will open tonight in
Howard Chapel at 8:00 p.m.
Performances will also be held
on Friday, April 25.
The evening of one acts consist
of several different types of
drama. The curtain opens with
Ring Lardner’s “Tridget of
Greva." Lardner comically
captures some very serious
problems concerning our lives.
The next two shows are short
scenes derived from im
provisations. “One Leg Too
Few" and “The Miner” both
hold a humor all their own.
“Slam the Door Softly” is a
realistic play viewing female
liberation and the boredom
many women face living just as
a housewife. “Real Class” is
followed by Pinter’s “Night”.
”Night” proves to be a dramatic
ending to a well-rounded evening
of entertainment.
The Spring of My Life
... And as I sit under the tree where we once were, I
think of how wonderful my life is, I have learned to love
without conviction, and to transform hate into
understanding.
The man that gave my life to me is gone — he no
longer exists. But how does one convince oneself that he
will never be alive again, I think upon his memory, and
ours together, as a cherished positiveness upon this
earth. With that positiveness I dream of finding other
worlds, with other people, and sharing love, equally
important as ours had been.
.,, And in my endeavors, I will always glance back to
the times, the tree, the love, and the immortality of he,
HLB