Page Two
THE SALE MITE
February 10
by Norman Jarrard
Exams are safely into tlie past—“the hurly-
burly’s done, and the battle’s lost and won,”
and it is time for summing up.
First point: All of us realize that we didn’t
keep up with our lessons as well as we should
or as much as we could have.
There are plenty of gripes. We have all
had to put up with those people who went
aromid moaning about the low grades they
were expecting to get. You know how it is.
“Oh, I haven’t studied at all and I’m sure
to flunk,!’ or “That was an unfair test and
I think I’ll go see Miss Hixson about it.”
But the bad thing about it is that they are
the people who usually make the higher
grades. We can have a little sympathy for
the person who really does make a low grade
but it is really too much for so many of the
others to act the way they do. It is easy to
see the real reason why there is so much
moaning “at” the bar. The next time some
one who makes pretty good grades comes
around telling how dark everything looks
just think this—or better, say it; That per
son is bragging. If that person didn’t study
and thought the test was terribly hard but
still made a good grade, then he is saying all
the other people who studied and didn’t
make a good grade are pretty stupid.
Now if there are people who want to rave
against exams in general—as long as it doesn’t
have anything to do with any individual’s
showing on an exam—then I’ll rave along with
them. As I have said in this column before,
giving the same exam to everyone; in other
words, requiring everyone to learn the same
thing, is the ruination of true scholarship.
I hate to fling red, herrings but it has an un
pleasant communistic tinge to it. I can hear
Kremlin Joe now: “Teach everybody in
North Carolina how to grow tobacco. It’s a
good thing for them.” Exams such as we
took make a person a prisoner to grades, so
that no one can disregard grades to any great
extent if he wants to stay in school. We
have to study any particular subject in light
of the kind of exam questions we can expect.
If a history teacher asks very general ques
tions we study from that viewpoint. If
another history teacher asks dates of famoiis
battles then we have to memorize those dates.
If another history teacher asks true-false
questions or asks us to complete sentences
lifted from the textbook then that is still a
different matter. I have some ideas on what
should be done about it but there isn’t much
use in telling them. It would take a pretty
good sized earthquake to get education out
of its rut.
Anyway, it is a fact that sucli education
discourages over ninety percent of the stu
dents from following any scholarly pursuits
—and its no wonder!
Such study evermore is overshot;
While it doth study to have what it would,
It doth forget to do the thing it should;
And when it hath the thing it hunteth
most,
’Tis won as towns with fire; so won, so
lost.
—To quote a fellow named Shakespeare,
who, as Margaret Raynal once said, “really
has a way with words.” Willie is pretty con
vincing when he talks against studying. In
“Love’s Labor Lost” the court takes an oath
“not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep” so
that, as the king says.
Our court shall be a little academe.
Still and contemplative in living art.
But at the last minute some of the Lords
want to back out. Berowne says that if he
swore to such things he swore in jest, and
wants to know after all, “What is the end of
study?” the king’s answer manages unintent
ionally to deflate the importance of learning:
“Why, that to know which else we should
not know.” Later, the king cautions his Lords
against the “vain delights” that turn intellects
away from study, but Berowne has a ready
answer:
AVhy, all delights are vain; but that most
vain
AVhieh, with pain purchas’d doth inherit
pain:
As, painfully to pore upon a book.
To seek the light of truth; while truth
the while
Doth fasely blind the eyesight of his look:
Light seeking light doth light of light
beguile:
So, ere you find where light in darkness
lies,
^Continued on page three)
Lee Majors In English;
Takes Calculus And Biology
by Lee Rosenbloom
I tripped lightly up the steps of
Old Chapel singing gaily to myself
“Who’s afraid of the big bad fac
ulty.’’ It was Januarj^ 30, 1950.
With chin up and eyes sparkling
I was ready to face the challenge
of a new semester. To think what
a gay light-hearted child I was only
a few days ago.
I pushed open the door to Old
Chapel only to stumble over a desk
and Mr. Leach. “Fill out this yel
low slip,” he said, dusting himself
off and unfastening the iron chain
which was stretched across the
doorway. I patiently sat down and
wrote my parents name, my guard-
.ians name, where bills should be
sents to, my mother’s maiden name,
my father’s maiden name, where
bills should be sent to, and to
whom should my bills be sent. As
advice to under-classmen I would
like to say here that no matter
whose name you write down your
father will get the bills so don’t
bother with fictitious names, just
scatter a few ditto’s around.
Hopefully I picked up the yellow
slip and marched over to where
Miss Spangenburg was guarding
the envelopes containing our grades.
“May 1 see your receipt* for tuition,”
she murmered sweetly, keeping one
hand on the gun which protruded
from her holster. “Welt, you see,
Dadd}^ mailed the check and so—”,
I gasped weakly. “Sorry, dearie,
but you can’t see your grades with
out a receipt,” Miss Spagenburg
chanted, gaily chipping another
notch in her six-shooter.
T .stumbled wearily out the door
and headed for the business office.
As the line of girls who were wait
ing for receipts moved slowly for
ward, I noticed that all the fresh
men were registering in the Dean’s
office. Tears streamed down their
faces, and it was indeed a dis
heartening sight to behold. T stop
ped to comfort m}’ little sister who
hadn’t made Dean’s List and was
about to be burned at the stake
bv some twelve of her classmates.
Realizing then that my troubles
were nothing as compared ■ to hers,
I held my chin high and struggled
onward.
When we passed Dr. Todd’s of
fice, I optimistically signed my
name on the roll of parchment
tacked on his door. As I stood up
I and brushed off my knees Dr.
Todd kindl.v came to the door and
patted me on the shoulders. “Just
tackle this with a devil may care
attitude,” he said, as he put the
chains on two seniors who had had
the audacity to want to change
their schedules.
Several hours later T staggered
out of the business office. Dr.
Gramley shook my hand and the
entire class sang “Congratulations
to you.” With tears of grateful
ness in my eyes, I headed back to
Old Chapel.
I presented m}' receipt to Miss
Spangenburg, and with tears of dis
appointment in her eyes, she
handed me the long white envelope.
I walked unfalteringly back stage,
went into the dressing room, locked
the door and sat down in the cor
ner with my face to the wall. Then
I took a small bottle of ammonia,
a vial of arsenic, and my will from
my pocket and placed them on the
floor beside me. Next I pulled my
coat over my head and, with the
aid of my cigarette lighter, slit
open the envelope. Dale will not
let me print the rest in the
Salemite for fear of offending your
ears, dear reader, but needless to
say without my youth and health
I could never have stood the shock.
A few days later I unlocked the
door to the dressing-room and stag
gered toward Dr. Todd’s office. I
arrived just in time, as he was
(Continued on page three)
Jarrard Reviews “Paisan”;
Is Derogatory In Criticism
by Norman Jarrard
Don’t go to see “Paisan” unless
you have endurance, strength of
heart, and everything else that im
plies stamina. Give the producers
credit for trying something big—
but they did not succeed.
The difficulties are obvious. To
understand all of the speech one
would have to be a talented lin
guist : Italian, German, Latin, and
English were used. Of course, the
producers translated the various
languages, but that made it even
worse than some of the silent
movies. It amounted to reading
the story word for word, so that
more time was spent reading than
watching what was going on on
the screen. Severe eyestrain would
have resulted, I am sure, if I had
had to move my eyes up and down
much longer in a vain attempt to
read what the actors said and try
ing to see them say it at the
same time. That was just a tech
nical difficulty, though. One which
we can all overcome by learning
Italian, German, and Latin.
Major objection: There is no
justification for picking, up actors
from street corners, selecting the
ones who seem to have some
talent, discarding them and using
in a movie the ones who remain.
What do you gain by having an
actor stumble through his lines and
use exaggerated gestures. Not
realism! No one can say that the
Americans in the first sketch were
realistic—they were just silly. (It
is another of those movies made
up of a number of short sketches,
related only in a general sort of
way). It takes good actors to be
realistic, not non-actors. “All the
King’s Men” achieves realism but
ddes it with acknowledged actors.
They used a very simple device;
the actors had never seen a script
before they went before the
cameras. To be sure, “Paisan” had
plenty of “realism,” but it was
mostly realism of scenery and
things that had very little to do
with acting (for example, the
scenery in the sketch about the
Negro and the one about the Army
nurse).
The photography was excellent.
The settings were chosen with care.
The last sketch, one Concerning an
O, S. S. man and Italian partisans
was particularly interesting photo
graphically. It was fuir of the
“realism” that seems to be the
vogue nowadays.
The sketches, in a way, were
clever. They were ironic. They
were tragic. But they were theatri
cal: they aroused the so-called
“baser passions,” or, in the case
of the sketch about the chaplains
and the monks, it was extremely
distasteful in another way (which
III leave to those who see it to
feel for themselves).
It ssems to me that acting should
be the first consideration in judg
ing the worth of a movie. We
don’t praise a movie when we say
we like the background music.
Music is available in much better
ways. We don’t praise a movie
.hen we say we like the photo
graphy and setting. If we want
to see those things a travelogue
should be in order. We don’t
praise a movie when we say that
the story is good. We can stav
at home and read the book and
get the sense much better. Those
things, plus what is most import
ant, good acting, make a great
picture.
Good acting, which this picture
does not have, is the one thing
that can triumph over bad photo
graphy, bad setting, no music, and
a bad story. Bad acting, which
this picture shows, does triumph
(for the most part), over the good
photography, good setting, and
good story.
Oh, Ma I’m not coming home for sprin»
vacation! It’s awful but I don’t know wlJ
to do. Listen to what happened.
There was a basketball game between the
juniors and the sophomores two tveeks avo
as you know I’m water girl for the junior
team. It was in the middle of the last quarter
and Clinky got hurt and had to leave the
pme. And then Ma—they said “Acti you’ll
just have to go in—there’s nobody left to
play center forward for us!” Well,' Ma, you
know I can’t even play Archery properly
but I had to do it for the spirit of the class'
I ran out there, caught the ball—the next
thing I knew I opened my eyes and saw noth
ing but white walls. The nurse said I had
a broken toe and couldn’t be moved out of
the infirmary for two weeks.
I was frantic, you knoxv I just have three
cuts left for this semester since I overcut to
go to the beach in December. But there was
nothing I could do. I had to stay aw-ay from
class so the cuts had to be turned in.' Ther
wouldn’t give me any reprieve. They said a
broken toe was no excuse for not going to
class.
But Ma, they said if I didn’t take a single
cut from now nptil graduation I could still
get my diploma.
See you in June,
Love, Acti
1987
Mater,
How are things in Automatia. I really do’
miss the place more than I can say. The tour
is splendigougeous. We are now spending a
week in the ancient town of Winston-Salem,
you kno\v it’s in the state of North Carolina,
Aesterday, the guide took us on a tour of
the oldest part of town. Most fascinating,
Mater. He showed us the ruins of an ancient
college. I asked him what that meant, and
he explained that back in those days, women
went to a type of school where they supposedly
received an education. We all thought that
was very funny. Imagine not having tele-
vison schools in the home!
Anyway, he said that this “college” would
probably still be standing today, but some
thing very strange happened in the year,—
I think it was 1950. Some sort of rule was
passed and the girls had to go to class no
matter what was wrong with them. The
guide gave very vivid descriptions. He told
us how the poor girls went to their classes
mangled from playing hockey games, crippled
from taking part in an archery tournaments.
Some even went with very high fever and
talked deliriously of some strange thing called
cuts. He said that soon operations began to
be performed in the very halls so that girls
would be sure and not miss any of their school
ing. Sounds horrible, doesn’t it? Gradualh
the girls began to die out and the halls re
echoed xvith the dragging footsteps of the re
maining fexv. He s h o ^v e d us the building
u Inch began crumbling first because it was
never used—something called the “infirmary’
The remains of two skeltons lay around that
building, the guide said that the two ladies
who kept the place died from neglect.
It was rather sad but on the whole ver,y
interesting to see hoxv^ people lived back in
those days.
Next week xve are visiting the site of another
historically xvell-known “c o 11 e g e”—Chapel
Hill. Will tell you about it in my next letter.
Lox^e and kisses,
Maehinitus
Editors Note: This issue was edited by
Garter Read. Next xveek the Salemite xvill he
edited by Clara Belle Le Grand a candidate
^r editor-in-chief of next year’s staff.
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