OPINION
PUBLISHED DAILY SINCE 1912
THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
TARA TREANARY, Editor HEATHER VALLEY, Business manager LINDEW FENHY, Managing editor MARCIA CREAT, Retail sales manager PAUL EAKINS, Editorial editor JUSTIN KNUPP, Technology coordinator TOM ERLEN, General manager, news adviser
Wednesday, June 18, 1997
As a tribute to LaTina Sullivan, the editor of the summer Kansan until her untimely death last week, the editorial page is rerunning one of her more poignant columns. It originally was published in the January 16, 1997, issue of the Kansan. LaTina brought a unique and intelligent perspective to both the editorial page and to the Kansan with her insightful writing. She was an asset and a credit to the Kansan, the School of Journalism and the University of Kansas. Although her writing may not have changed all of her readers' views, she promoted and contributed to the diversity of thought at the University. Few who knew her could claim to be unaffected by her dynamic, generous and outgoing personality. She will be missed
Uproar about Ebonics misses real problem
One of the things that I don't understand is why there has been so much hoopla concerning the Oakland School Board's decision to recognize Black English, or Ebonics, as a separate language to better educate its students.
People have not been this outraged since O.J. Simpson was acquitted of murder.
From journalists and politicians to the head of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People and Maya Angelou, people are up in arms. I would include Jesse Jackson, but, once again, he can't figure out where he stands or which side is more popular.
Where were all of these concerned citizens when I was in elementary school? And why are people — including bureaucrats — who have never stepped inside an inner-city school interested in how its children are educated?
Is it because America finally has realized there is a problem and actually wants to do something about it? Please, that would be doing something right.
Some of these "concerned citizens" only care about their money. I imagine the little voice inside of their heads is screaming—"They want to use our tax dollars. Say it ain't (sorry, isn't) so. Take away welfare, and they still try to find ways to steal our hard-earned money."
Honestly, how many of these concerned citizens are truly interested in how innermy children are taught? Remember, many teachers in the Oakland school district already had been teaching these children to speak "correct" English by using Ebonics.
LaTina Sullivan (left) smiles after receiving a plaque signifying she had completed the Dean's Scholars Program. The plaque was presented by Laura Yamhure, program coordinator, at a reception on May 16 at the home of Sally Frost-Mason, dean of the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences.
The resolution was to make it official.
Think about it. When was the last time the secretary of education jumped on an issue so fast? After the story hit the wire, he almost broke his neck trying to send a letter to the Oakland School Board that said the department would not give any federal funds to teach "incorrect English." Wasn't this jumping the gun just a little? After all, the school board did not request any federal money. I guess it was a just-in-case letter, which makes me wonder whether he would make replied so quickly if the Oakland School Board needed more money to pay its teachers. Probably not.
For other concerned citizens, it's all about saving face. "Ebonics done made us look ignorant again."
How else can you explain NAACP President Kweisi Mfume and other prominent African-American leaders about to have
major coronaries on national television arguing about why Ebonics is so unacceptable? It conveniently has slipped their minds that many of them also grew up in an environment where Black English was used.
As these debates move into battles, many have forgotten that children are the true causalities of this controversy. They also have forgotten that all of this commentary isn't solving the problem.
Whether these children say "I be going" or "I am going," the reality is that 71 percent of Oakland students enrolled in special education courses are African American, although they only make up 53 percent of the district's enrollment, according to the New York Times.
Although I do believe these children should be given all the tools needed to succeed in America, I don't believe Ebonics
solves the problem that faces many inner city schools.
As a product of the Memphis, Tenn., innerky education, I must admit that many of us did come to school thinking that "be" and its conjugate "is" were the all-inclusive verbs and that double negatives were the norm. Well, that's what we heard at home, sometimes in church and on Good Times. Of course, there were some teachers who were about to retire and didn't care whether we said "Dy-no-mite" until the bell rang. And then there were those teachers who refused to accept what many people called incorrect English from students who were already at a socio-economic disadvantage. When someone said "I ain't got none," that teacher would repeat the question until the student answered correctly or gave up in frustration. And she would then repeat and have the entire class repeat the correct response. And there was one time when a rebel did blurt out what most of us wanted to know. "Why we can't say that?" And that was the day many of us learned the sobering politics of race and class. "As poor Black people," she said, "you will be first judged as ignorant until you prove them wrong."
You see, our teachers didn't criticize Black English because they knew that it was and still is deeply embedded in our culture — from the poetry of Langston Hughes to the novels of Zora Neale Hurston to the bobp of jazz and the modern form of hip-hop.
However, they also realized we were in school to learn how to succeed in the dominant culture. They knew if we used incorrect English, no matter how cool it sounded, we would never be accepted into professional America. And like the Oakland board, they also realized the curriculum wasn't achieving its goal. There were far too many students failing and enrolled in special education. So, they supplemented our history and literature books with books and documentaries about African-American history, which was often excluded from our required reading lists. They also challenged us to become exceptions to the rule and achieve heights much higher than those in their generation.
Were they effective?
Without today's arguments about Black English, many of my friends, who in the third grade couldn't conjugate "be" correctly if it hit them in the face, have graduated from prestigious universities. Me, well, I'm an English and journalism major.
Do I still speak Black English?
You damn skippy (just a little old school). 'Cause around my peeps, it's all good, kid. Translation: Yes, around my family and friends. Culturally, it's still a big part of who I am, and it's the dialect of my heritage. Professionally, I have been taught there is a line that Black English cannot cross if you want to succeed in America.
To those people who still are upset about Ebonics: Take my great aunt's advice, which is quite simple. "Baby, if you ain't part of the solution, then you is part of the problem." Correct it if you want, but no matter how you say it, it will always ring true.
Columns
Friend's passage teaches lesson
My last words to LaTina were more of a grunt.
"See ya later," I moaned, halfway out the newsroom door.
"See ya," she answered, in that abatto-t-break-into-a-laugh voice of hers. How could I know seven hours later she would be gone?
She had just finished reading one of my columns, and I was in a foul mood, ready to call it quits and go home.
Now I wish I had been brave enough to at least let her know I thought she was doing a good job. That I would
I respected LaTina. But she never heard me say so. In fact, we never said much at all. We enjoyed one of those quiet, "it's understood" sort of friendships.
support her at all costs. And that I considered her a friend.
If only I could have vocalized my feelings, instead of grunting and going about my business as I do every day. Too often we take for granted the idea that others understand what we feel
But there's nothing healthier than expressing those feelings.
Whenever a young person passes away suddenly, someone laments the fact they never got an opportunity to
I guess I am that someone this time. I find it difficult to accept the fact that a good-hearted human being is gone forever when I'm used to having some kind of warning.Not that a warning would have helped.
I learned a lot from LaTina in the short time I knew her. And her passing has taught us all one final lesson: You've got to utter, whisper or scream your emotions to the people in your life while you still have the chance.
I'm calling up my parents tonight to tell them I love them.
Jeff Ruby is a Wichita graduate student in journalism.
Prejudiced thoughts instinctive but extremely difficult to squelch
We all have our own prejudices determined by where, how and by whom we were brought up. I'm from the South. The only friends I ever had were white. Every day I encountered racial slurs.
But I never thought of myself as racist. Even more, I thought that by leaving the South, I had left that possibility behind me. I But soon found out that I hadn't.
One night, in a familiar local bar far away from my roots, my life was forever changed. A group of three black men and two black women entered the bar and blazed a trail straight to the booth where my friend and I sat on one side. They helped themselves to the other.
I immediately grabbed my purse and thought my friend should do the same. Then I reprimanded myself for having such a thought.
But this thought quickly was reinforced by a series of choice words such as "Lesbian" and "Dyke Bitch" aimed right at our side of the table by the
female ring leader.
And with no retaliation for the number of namecalling incidences, the night ended with a stolen $200 winter jacket
wife friend.
— my friend's.
Again — now accompanied with anger and remorse — racist thoughts appeared in my head. And again, despite what han-
maybe the answer's in the question.
I don't know why the ring leader stole the jacket. But I know deep down that she did. And I don't know why, before a word came out of her mouth, I grabbed my purse. But I had grabbed — and she had stolen.
stand why, I had never uttered a racist word to anyone. Whenever I heard such comments, I was angered and said so. I didn't really even know any black people, how could I be racist against them?
opened, I hated myself for having these thoughts.
But I did have them, and I didn't under.
So I had surprised myself. But she hadn't surprised me. I assumed she would steal, and she stole. Who was wrong, me or her? I'm pretty sure we both were.
Tara Trenary is a Birmingham, Ala.,senior in journalism.
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McVeigh: American ideal with an evil, tragic twist
I've been thinking about America a lot lately, thanks to Timothy McVeigh. His trial has made me wonder about America, the American way and how we want to see ourselves
There's an America that I've become acquainted with through the Internet and late-night radio, and that America is big, bad and out for blood.
That America does wicked things that Joe and Jane Citizen can't fathom. American government is viewed by the voices in the wilderness of AM radio and back-alley web
pages as both pathetically inept and eerily able, something that has an equal chance of making people cease to ever have existed as it does to get lost on the way to an assassination.
To the Quixotes hoping to tilt the windmill of Big Government, Timothy McVeigh is an two-sided symbol. On the one hand they conjure him with names like Waco and Ruby Ridge, making him a steel-jawed proletarian avenger of the wrongs of the power cabal in Washington.
The claim is never a pure one, though. McVeigh is rarely seen as wholly responsible. He's a dupe, a patsy, a fall guy of some
sort. The government, or the web of covert organizations and secret agendas that really run things, are blamed. Foreign nationals are blamed. Some group, these people say, must be to blame.
It seems that people are unwilling to believe that an unknown person, toiling in obscurity, could bring forth such a singular work of horror.
If we do take the government's view, though, McVeigh is a prime example of the singular human spirit that has created wonders and made the world a better place, taken to a tragically wrong, poisonous extreme.
When we see forces that we'd rather see used for good taken to evil extremes, the only reasonable answer is to look away, to blame something that we can't understand.
We'd rather not look into the abyss, only to find that it's neither deep nor mysterious.
Maybe that's why some of the jurors said that McVeigh's testimony wouldn't have made much difference. They wanted to keep that singular spirit at a distance and keep the motive as apocalyptic as the action. Time will very possibly prove, though, that the motive was nothing more than the rage of a disturbed man who needed a target, tried to hit the Other America and hit us instead.
Editorial
Sean Demory is an Olathe senior In Journalism.
Landlords should provide liveable housing for tenants
Having a home, it seems, is more of a privilege or an extravagance in this area, rather than a basic right.
If that weren't the case, the shameful disparity in Lawrence between the price of a place to live and what one gets for one's money would not be an issue.
It is reasonable for a person to charge money for the right to live in his or her property.
Charging for upkeep seems reasonable; the choice between paying a little more for a place to stay that is dry, warm and free of vermin doesn't seem like too much to pay.
It is even reasonable for a landlord to want to make a profit. The job is a largely thankless one, and few would seek out the headaches involved in owning, renting and maintaining property without expecting some form of return on the initial investment.
What is not reasonable is a forty percent rise in the cost of an apartment without adequate insulation. This was the case in one
It seems unreasonable to be willing to get gouged in exchange for a slightly shorter walk to school.
It seems reasonable for tenants to consider themselves part of a partnership with their landlords. In exchange for a fair amount of money and decent stewardship of the landlord's property, one expects to live in a place that is more than liveable. That's the sort of relationship both sides of the rental equation should strive for.
Tennessee street apartment in Lawrence. It is not reasonable to see the money one invests in rent go almost exclusively to the purchase of new property.
In some Lawrence residences, landlords raise rent but do not make needed improvements.
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SEAN DEMORY FOR THE EDITORIAL BOARD
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