Opinion
Kansan
Published daily since 1912
Ann Premier, Editor Jamie Holman, Business manager Gerry Doyle, Managing editor Sara Cropper, Retail sales manager Angie Kuhn, Managing editor Dan Simon, Sales and marketing adviser Tom Eblen, General manager, news advisor Justin Knupp, Technology coordinator
Tuesday, March 16, 1999.
The Chicago Tribune
Editorials
Post-performance applause not thanks enough for Rock Chalk
Members of the five Rock Chalk Revue skits have torn down sets and put away their costumes, but the efforts they and others from University of Kansas living organizations will continue to be noticed by recipients of assistance from the United Way of Douglas County.
Students at the University earned $40,000 through fund-raising and ticket sales. This $40,000 is only the beginning of the United Way's 1999-2000 campaign but it was a remarkable beginning, said Jeff Weinberg, assistant to the chancellor and chairman of the
Fund-raising efforts are an example of selfless giving by University students.
Douglas County United Way.
"This is a completely selfless effort by students," Weinberg said. "This is money they have raised that isn't even going back to the University but rather out to Douglas County."
Wienberg also points out that the monetary sum doesn't even include the hours of hands-on service by KU students.
While celebrating the 50th year of the Revue, much has been said to thank Roy Wonder, the event's founder. Although it has come to be expected that thousands of hours of community service and thousands of dollars be given to the United Way each year, an anniversary also seems a fitting time to thank the students who make the event truly charitable.
For 50, years students have been giving back to their community through Rock Chalk Revue.
Thank you.
Ryan Koerner for the editorial board
NCAA needs academic standards
Universities are institutions of higher learning. Sometimes this definition gets clouded when athletics are involved, and there are many cases in which a student athlete is not considered a student first.
The NCAA has established rules to ensure that student athletes admitted to universities possess a chance at success. The SAT has been a measuring stick of academic ability for many years, but now the use of that tool of measurement is in question.
in question. It would be improper, though, for the NCAA to abandon the practice of minimal standards.
U. S. District Judge Ronald Blackwater ruled March 8 that the NCAA could no longer use minimum scores on the SAT as the sole entrance requirement because of information that the SAT is biased against African Americans.
Use of SAT to determine eligibility a just way of judging entering student athletes.
A student athlete must have an SAT score of 820 to play a university sport. Of the 1.2 million students who took the test last year, the average score was 1,017.
If student athletes do not meet this requirement, they either must sit out one year and earn acceptable grades or attend a junior college.
The NCAA is appealing the ruling with good reason. If there is no set minimal standard, it leaves it up to universities to police themselves. In today's win-at-all-cost world, this is a frightening proposition. Some schools still would set reasonable standards, but others may set virtually no standards in recruiting
efforts.
Before there were minimal standards, there were many cases in which student athletes were only athletes, and some of them had virtually no chance at academic success. Minimal standards ensure that these students can read and do basic math problems.
College athletic teams are not a farm system to develop professional athletes. Many players with scholarships to Division I schools have little or no chance of playing professionally. For them, a degree will be necessary and a reward for four years of service.
Universities have proven through the years that they do need a watchdog to prevent corruption. If the SAT cannot be used as a standard, the NCAA needs to find another standard to help schools ensure that our student athletes are students first.
Emily Haverkamp for the editorial board
Kansan staff
News editors
Ryan Koerner . . . Editorial
Jeremy Doherty . . Associate editorial
Aaron Marvin . . News
Laura Roddy . . News
Melissa Ngo . . News
Aaron Knopf . Online
Erin Thompson . Sports
Marc Sheforgen . Associate sports
Chris Fickett . Campus
Sarah Hale . Campus
T.R. Miller . Features
Steph Brewer . Associate features
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Chris Dye . Design, graphics
Carl Kaminski . Wire
Carolyn Mollett . Special sections
Laura Veazey . Neues clerk
Advertising managers
Matt Lopez . Special sections
Jennifer Patch . Campus
Micah Kafitz . Regional
Jon Schlitt . National
Tyler Cook . Marketing
Shannon Curran . PR/ Intern manager
Christa Estep . Production
Steven Prince . Production
Chris Corley . Creative
Jason Hannah . Classified
Corinne Buffmire . Zone
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Broaden vour mind: Today's quote
"We all know we are unique individuals, but we tend to see others as representatives of groups." —Deborah Tannen
Letters: Should be double-spaced typed and fewer than 200 words. Letters must include the author's signature, name, address and telephone number plus class and home-town if a University student. Faculty or staff must identify their positions.
How to submit letters and guest columns
Guest columns: Should be double-
spaced typed with fewer than 700 words. The writer must be willing to be photographed for the column to run.
All letters and guest columns should be submitted to the Kansan newsroom, 111 Staufer-Flint Hall. The Kansan reserves the right to edit, cut to length or reject all submissions.
For any questions, call Ryan Koerner or Jeromy Doerhy at 864-4924.
If you have general questions or comments,
e-mail the page staff (opinion@kansan.com)
or call 864-4924.
Perspective
Hunt for college passion leads student to dead end
A girl I used to work with once told me her philosophy on life. She felt that a person should have a passion for whatever it is she does.
Our job consisted of little more than
pulling some boxes to the front edges of shelves in a way that would guarantee profits and benefits for our multitudes of coworkers. She soon quit in order to pursue a more life-affirming career.
Because she was an attractive girl my heart ached at her departure, and her words stuck with me as some small claim to a "moment" shared between us. I roll them
H.G.
Miller
opinion @ kansan.com
between us. A person who is over in my head from time to time, pondering their significance and evaluating how well I follow the policy.
Unfortunately, these mental wanderings finally have led to the realization that I have no real passion in my life right now. My immediate impulse is to weep openly and start running until my legs fall off and my lungs explode and all the energy drains from my body.
I want that feeling of complete exertion — some kind of affirmation that I'm actually doing something with my life.
I can remember a time when I imagined living on my own with a grand sense of freedom, going to college classes that enlightened my mind and hanging out with friends who had funky hair and revolutionary ideas.
Although I have found a group of friends with whom I feel connected on many levels, and they have become my family in this town now that the rest of my little high-school pipe dream has faded into oblivion. Because of school and work obligations, I actually schedule appointments with my friends.
Can you believe this? Penciling in time to hang out and have fun. How can an idealistic college kid lose sight of his priorities like that?
What's more, when my friends and I do find time for each other, it's usually after work. We're dead tired and cranky, hanging out at a bar, complaining about our jobs
and drinking to forget how much we don't want to be here.
As for the glamour of apartment living; that was grounded into the carpet stains long ago. I've finally reached the point of hating my roommate for the subtle little idiosyncrasies we all exhibit in life, and I'm sure he feels the same way about me. Maybe living with somebody for two years just isn't supposed to work. Most of my friends who have done the same just chuckle when I vocalize these complaints, and I guess that's why I know so many people who have significant others living hours away.
Perhaps I've given up too easily on the passions that drove me when I first started college. I had such grand plans when I left home. I was going to write novels and fight for causes and make the world aware of my impending greatness.
Or, maybe it's just me.
Instead, I feel like all I've really done is learned how to beat the academic system. My only motivation these days is to just finish school. I'm sure there is a pamphlet somewhere that will tell me this isn't a healthy approach to life.
Senioritis is an easy claim at times like these, but to be quite honest, I've felt this way for a long while. And, I'm fairly sure that these emotions are not unique to near-graduates.
I don't know why, but I feel like there has to be more to this whole living thing than arranging department store shelves to perfection and writing five-page papers with one-inch margins and proper academic voice.
I do know of some small hope, though.
As I sit here exorcising my demons with black ink — it's not a novel, but it'll do. — I am also trying to work up the nerve to call a girl I met the other night. My face is hot and I've got that funky butterfly feeling in the pit of my stomach. At least it let's me know that I am still alive.
And maybe, just maybe, if I try to focus on some of the smaller passions in life, the rest of it will all fall into place.
Miller is a Hutchinson senior in English.
Leadership 'glow' fades fast in light of reality, apathy
W when I was in high school, I actually went to several leadership camps. This may sound odd, but back then you must have loved I would grow up to
people actually believed I be worth something. I'm not sure how glad I should feel now that I have proven myself right and them wrong.
Going to those camps, I followed a pretty predictable pattern. I would go and listen to beautiful people tell me what a worthwhile person I was without realizing they were lying.
Nick Bartkoski
opinion @ kansan.com
Then I would come back home totally energized
This chain of events left me very cynical about the entire process. I figured out that the people there were essentially the same people I shared mutual dislike with in real life, only with one exception — these people were willing to pretend they liked me for an entire week.
This realization is one of the primary reasons I've stayed out of University of Kansas politics. I had finally grown enough to realize that politics forces me to have a close working relationship with people I would ordinarily go out of my way to avoid.
and ready to take on the world. The energy generated lasted until I started interacting with non-leadership camp people. Then I, of course, spiraled right back down and remembered that I was worth nothing.
When I went to LeaderShape earlier this semester, I did so against my own better judgment. I had a good idea where it all would go, but I was wrong.
A few weeks ago I finally lost my post-LeaderShape glow. I got a month out of it. That is really not all that bad. I've heard stories of guys who were brought down at the first Student Senate meeting after their LeaderShape experience. See what I mean about politics.
Or so I thought.
When I got back from LeaderShape, I was the most confident I had ever been. I finally thought I had beaten my personal demons. I wasn't hated by all. I was accepted by my peers, and for the first time in my life, I
So why do I hate myself? This is the question that everyone asks. "Why do you hate yourself?" they ask, as though they were great philosophers that stumbled upon a question no one had bothered to consider before.
So when I lost that confidence, I immediately started informing people that I had reverted to pre-LeaderShape Nick. That is really an arrogant claim.
Of course, I might ask in reply "Why are the women in my life who are most concerned about me hating myself the same women who place 'dating Nick' right behind 'commit ritualistic suicide' on their-to-do list?" I could ask that, but then they might think I'm interested and commit hari-kari.
So that claim is totally inaccurate. I haven't really moved away from being post-LeaderShape Nick. What I mean when I say that is that LeaderShape, like everything else in my life, has failed in its attempt to make me like myself. After a month of pretending, I snapped back to form like a bungee cord.
What I'm saying there is that I've got the power to wipe an event out of my life, which isn't true. LeaderShape still is affecting my life and still has an important presence in how I act.
So why do I hate myself? I'll let you in on a little secret. When you have no faith in yourself, it's easier to accept failure.
Failure can be like a kick to the crotch if you wake up in morning expecting to succeed. When you do succeed, it's actually a pleasant surprise, almost as nice as a Christmas present.
really believed I was happy.
But what I remembered after LeaderShape was that when I believe in myself, I'm inviting disappointment. In the course of one month, I was able to hurt myself more while not hating myself than I had in 10 years of hating myself. My emotional walls might keep people out, but they succeed admirably in their job of protecting me.
So I hate myself again, so what. Do you really care?
No, no. Please put the knife down
Bartkoski is a Basehor senior in journalism and English.
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