6 ■ September 2002
cssm I the stentorian
Applying Ishmael
Daniel Silverman
L ast year's summer
reading program was a
disaster. Our survey
showed that many students
didn't even read their sum
mer reading.
However, there were no
consequences for not reading
due to the fact that there were
no organized attempts to fol
low up on the summer read
ing. One meeting of juniors
and seniors took place just
before school started to dis
cuss studying and ethics, and
it left no impression on the
collective student mind.
This year, Ishmael was
assigned to all students and
staff In addition, juniors
were required to read sections
of Study is Hard Work to aid
in study skills. The question
should be asked again this
year: Has there been an
organized attempt to use the
summer reading assignment?
Tuesday, August 27, dur
ing Supervised Study, the
Humanities department went
to the participants and dis
cussed how to improve study
skills. Drawing on Study is
Hard Work and their own per
sonal experience, the teachers
gave students their perspec
tive on how to study for
Humanities classes. On fol
lowing Tuesdays, teachers
from the other departments of
the school will have a chance
to discuss how to study for
their particular subject. Dr.
Warshaw said that "Each
department has organized it
so that each teacher is going
to one of the Supervised
Study sessions, saying pretty
much the same things."
This concept seems to
cover the usage of Study is
Hard Work, but what hap
pened to Ishmael?
Dr. Warshaw informed
me that a sheet was distrib
uted to the teachers dis
cussing possible applications
of Ishmael to their class dis
cussions. Did teachers use
this sheet? Obviously teach
ers of the science and math
departments would have a
hard time using it, with a few
exceptions in Biology; what
about the English and History
teachers?
After speaking to many
Humanities teachers from
both junior and senior classes,
my conclusion is that a good
number of teachers are using
Ishmael. Although there are
some courses, such as AP US
History, where teachers had
trouble integrating the lessons
of Ishmael with the material
they cover, many teachers
used the suggested concepts
in their class discussion.
Others, such as Dr. Manring
in his Science of the Mind
class, used ideas developed
independently. Overall, there
is a great deal of usage of
Ishmael in the classroom.
This year has shown a
marked improvement in the
usage of the summer reading
program. The effective
organization behind this
year's program was obvious.
Could more be done to
improve?
The one suggestion that I
received was giving teachers
slightly more time to prepare
lesson plans using the sum
mer reading. Beyond that,
kudos to the decision-makers
behind the summer reading
for selecting a book that
everyone seems to be enjoy
ing!
Confessions of a
public restroom
George Kachergis
A fter helping our new
juniors move, as a
member of the
Orientation Committee, I
quickly escaped public scruti
ny and the endless introduc
tions and
awkward
conversa
tions by
lurking in
the multi
tudinous
safe havens found throughout
campus.
I admit it was somewhat
antisocial of me - some may
even say grotesque before
reading this article - to nimbly
dodge into the nearest rest
room whenever I heard the
stirrings of a pack of ravenous
juniors, eager to devour my
identity, to place me in their
ever-expanding hierarchy of
Science & Math-ers.
The two days following
This article was conceived
on a toilet. I simultane
ously realized that much
wonderful thinking is
done on the toilet.
August 10, before the seniors
arrived, found me fleeing
from bathroom to bathroom,
like a hunted rabbit running
from thicket to thicket in the
wake of baying hounds. I sub
sided on water and damp
paper towels for 48 hours,
huddled on
1
the toilet,
legs drawn
up.
Often in
the past I
have found
peace dllU iOlace in the
anonymity, quietude, and
Catholicism of a public rest
room. In public restrooms I
have found an escape from
uncomfortable situations into
a universal situation; all peo
ple must use toilets, and the
language of the toilet knows
no bounds.
Public restrooms provide
us with something familiar
and constant in a largely
ephemeral world. They are
Vera Dadok
dependable and ever-present:
eateries are required to pro
vide restrooms, just as towns
have churches where one may
find sancmary from the antag
onistic activities of everyday
life.
Indeed, public restrooms
are similar to Catholic confes
sionals. Where else can one
receive anonymous secular
advice from perfect strangers?
Once safely ensconced in your
stall, you are free to liberate
your conscience, to ask
advice, or even to merely ask
for a roll of toilet paper. There
is a certain type of cama
raderie that flourishes only in
the utilitarian, tiled recesses of
a communal commode.
This article was con
ceived on a toilet. I simultane
ously realized that much won
derful thinking is done on the
toilet. I'm sure I'm not the only
person to have scrambled out
after having an epiphany
about some problem or anoth
er. Perhaps kings, under
duress, would escape to the
bathroom, where thoughts
may be quickly turned over.
This may be why tqjle^^.jj^y^.
earned the respecthir'nick-
name of "throne."
I find myself comforted,
wherever I may be, when I
spot the universal pictorial
sign for a restroom. I know I
have a place to escape, to
think, to rule the world!
Sometimes I simply slip into
a restroom for a quick
breather; a check in the mirror,
cool water on my face and
hands, and the sometimes
painful reminder (auditory
and olfactory) reminder that
everybody else is human, too.
Intramurals: a senior's perspective
Chris Haagen
T he sun shone down on
the fresh Bermuda
grass, which was hold
ing on to the last bits of life
Dhruli Patel
Chris Haagen supports Second
Hill’s IM team from the side
lines.
until the chill of winter
flushed out its brilliant green.
Thoughts of looming tests and
worries of unwritten papers
faded away into a silent hush.
No longer was I a lonely,
confused individual lost in a
world of academic competi
tion. For twenty minutes,
unwritten college applications
and ignored math homework
did not exist. This was the
sacred time for IM games.
Upon arriving last year, I
was met with many assign
ments and lots of stress. Time
was not a luxury that I could
throw around by watching TV
and hanging out with friends.
To think that I would use this
scarce resource to play in a
pointless twenty-minute game
seemed irresponsible and
childish.
Yet I was a lonely junior
and craved the high of sen
iors' approval. I put down my
American history book and
picked up some tennis shoes
that had been neglected since
my arrival.
When I arrived on the.
small soccer field, I was sur
rounded with almost all of my
hall mates. Though some
seemed to have an idea of the
game, most of them had just
wandered onto the field,
laughing at the idea of com
peting in an sporting event.
But for twenty minutes,
no complaints of fly labs and
DBQs rang out from this
crowd; no cries of the injus
tice of super study could be
heard. For those twenty min
utes we were united as one
hall. We were given a break
from the stress that "accepting
the greater challenge" carries.
All we were worried about
was how we could show that
our hall was synpnymous
with perfection.
"Show me something," a
senior yelled at me as I
walked onto the field. "Be
beautiful out there." For that
moment, I could be. For that
moment, physical inadequa
cies would fall into the shad
ows, and the void of forgotten
childhood hopes for athletic
success could be filled. I
could blow the dust off
ignored dreams of stardom
which had been beleaguered
by years of being picked last.
For those twenty min
utes, hope breathed its sweet
thoughts into me: thoughts
that told me I could be a hero.
if only for the moment. That
moment when the ball of
manhood rolled between the
goal posts could be perfection
- the moment of ecstasy that
blinded all thoughts of the dif
ficulties in my life.
No physics lab reports.
No chemistry quiz. No math
problem set. Only myself,
there in the moment surround
ed by forty-one of my new
closest friends.
The IM game ended, and
I walked back to my room
filled with the effects of pro
crastination. But wrinkles of
stress were absent from my
forehead - no John Smith pas
sage could hinder that happi
ness. The high of others'
approval would carry me
through that day.