I Still Don't Care About Your Interview

Yesterday I posted this Yik Yak, mostly in jest:

            What I’ve come to realize is that it’s more relevant than I possibly could have imagined.  I’m applying to internships too.  We all are.  Every day one of my friends shows up to the dining hall in a suit with a story.  “They asked me this.”  “I emailed them that.”  “They’re flying me to New York on Friday.”  Who cares?  Apparently everyone.  Here’s why I don’t.

            I’m turning 21 in two months.  A few months later I’ll start what is hopefully my last year of schooling for the foreseeable future.  Every day I get emails with job postings and networking events.  I read every single one and each sounds worse than the last.  The question I keep asking myself is why should I go sit behind a computer all summer?  Don’t get me wrong; I fully comprehend the notion of paying your dues.  At some point, apparently, there comes a time when real life begins.

            But, what is this real life that I keep hearing about? I’m tired of hearing about signing bonuses, and enormous salaries, and long hours.  Everyone I know is working so hard, all to be able to afford a small apartment and a $20 drink on Saturday night.  It’s not the rigor of the work, however, that bothers me; it’s the scope.

            We don’t go to a top-20 university anymore, at least not according to the latest survey, but none of that even really matters.  No one ended up at Emory by accident.  We’ve all put in grueling hours studying, volunteering, you name it, while trying to balance a social life that theoretically makes it all worth while.  Emory is full of brilliant, motivated people—people capable of changing the world we live in for the better.

            Yet, no one I meet wants to be a teacher, or a fireman, or a public defender.  All anyone seems to want is the biggest paycheck they can get their hands on, and that’s truly depressing.  I honestly believe that we are the people who have the capabilities to shape the future.  We are the people who could reform education and healthcare.  We are the people who could rebuild America’s many broken cities.  But, we won’t.

            Instead, we’ll move to New York.  We’ll play with massive bank accounts.  We might even cause the next big economic collapse.  Who knows?  So, no, I still don’t care about your interview with Goldman Sachs.  I wish you all the best, but I know you don’t care.  The more I think about it, the less I want to be a part of this “business world” I hear so much about.  I want to do something good for this world, because I know I can, and I hope everyone reading this does too.

Enough About Greek Life

            Let me begin by saying that I think sorority rush is awful.  You know what else I think is awful?  Job interviews, astronomy lab, the New York Yankees.  In this incredible land of free speech, everyone is entitled to an opinion.  There are plenty of reasons to be against sorority rush, just as there are reasons to dislike just about anything.  The Emory Wheel has every right to publish an editorial denouncing recruitment, but that doesn’t make it good journalism.

            There are so many problems with Greek Life that are worth writing about, and the Emory Wheel never fails to cover the institution’s latest shortcomings.  It’s disappointing, however, to see such a lame and untimely editorial about an issue that has existed, largely unchanged, for years and years.  If this article was published in 2005, or even 1985, its relevance would undoubtedly be exactly the same.

            I’m tired of reading about old problems.  Emory treats Greek Life like the rest of the world treats, Israel vs. Palestine.  Instead of seeking solutions, we spend all of our time and energy articulating and rearticulating the same exact issues.  Just as no one is arguing that the situation in Israel is ideal, I don’t think anyone believes that Greek Life is perfect.

            The problem with The Wheel’s latest jab at sororities is that it’s weak.  The arguments are both unoriginal and stale.  The statements put forth were charged enough to elicit a response from the sorority women they offended, but lacked any sort of solution to improve the system.  If recruitment “disempowers women,” this editorial certainly did nothing to empower them.

            Humor me here; if the overwhelming sentiment is that Greek-Life is toxic, as The Wheel (not to mention the American media) continues to make it seem, then why haven’t we come up with something better?  I’m afraid it’s because we haven’t tried.  As much as I hate to say it, sometimes actions speak louder than words.  The fact of the matter is that The Wheel won’t change Greek Life, for better or for worse, at least not with editorials like this one.

Catan

            I’ve spent much of the last week collecting sheep, building roads, and making enemies.  Don’t worry; it’s not as crazy as it sounds.  We played in high school before basketball games, and apparently so does the Green Bay Packer’s offensive line.  The name of the game is Settlers of Catan.

            Think Monopoly meets Risk but shorter and more competitive.  Three or four players fight to collect resources, build settlements, and score victory points.  The result is about an hour of intense gameplay.  Rivalries emerge, as friendships are broken.  Negotiations and trickery are not only allowed, but encouraged.  Catan is no joke.

            Still, the mechanics of the game do not explain why I’ve forgone many a night out to sit around a coffee table and quarrel with my friends.  The allure of Catan is difficult to articulate.  It’s like a drug; exciting, entertaining, and highly addictive.  One taste of victory is usually all it takes to keep players coming back for more.

            In the past week alone, I’ve taught about half a dozen people how to play.  Throwing the old board game in my bag before my 10-hour drive to Atlanta may have been a last-minute decision, but apparently it was a good one.  Settlers has already become a staple in our household.

            Whether you’ve never played before in your life, you haven’t seen the board in years, or your latest conquest was just yesterday, Catan is definitely worth an hour of your time.  It doesn’t take a whole night to play.  It doesn’t take an expert to win.  It doesn’t take a nerd to enjoy.  Settlers of Catan is a game for everyone, so come by and play anytime.

There Are Stupid Questions

            Since Kindergarten I’ve heard the words, “There are no stupid questions,” repeated by authority figures time after time.  There is certainly something to be said about embracing the freedom of education that we are lucky enough to enjoy in the United States.  Still, I find there comes a time when kids need to be told the truth about questions.  Life isn’t an elementary school classroom, and the ugly truth is that there are stupid questions.

            This adage promotes the type of creativity and exploration that allows children to grow immensely.  To have the power and audacity to question authority in a learning environment is prerequisite to learning how to think as an individual.  In school, kids have the opportunity to soak up as much knowledge as they can before graduating to a life of responsibility and independence.

            The negative side effect of this principle, however, is that students become completely dependent on being given the answers rather than seeking the answers themselves.  Even in college classrooms, I constantly witness intelligent students asking professors to repeat definitions that are clearly printed in the reading, or bolded on that day’s PowerPoint presentation.  So, despite the stupid questions mantra, I struggle to believe that every lazy reach for basic information is really a valuable use of class time.

            Obviously, there are instances of simple questions that serve to clarify or elaborate on any given topic of study; this post does not intend to negate the use of questions as another tool for learning.  Instead, what I’d like to focus on is the thoughtfulness exhibited throughout classrooms.  The problem lies in the relationship between teacher and student; in order for questions to be worthwhile for the class, the exchange must be a dialogue, not a lecture.

            The idea is that if students ask interesting, derivative questions, the teacher will give specific, extensive answers.  In essence, the answer can only be as good as the question that prompts it.  So, perhaps there are no bad questions.  Yet, the deeper we delve into the subject matter, the more our teachers have to work with.  If we ask for the definition, I’m afraid that’s all we’ll get.  If we dare to go further, to reach, to leave our comfort zones, that is when we truly learn.

            Students who ask the professor for the definition of each term will usually get the answers they seek, even if they could have found those answers themselves by simply opening the textbook.  These kinds of students will take diligent notes; they’re not slackers, they’d just rather ask than read.  These individuals will probably even score well on the tests; definitions are gold on multiple-choice exams.

            Nevertheless, you’ll never hear me ask one of these questions.  When I raise my hand in class it’s because I have to something to say.  I like to ask questions that not only beg the response of the teacher, but also ones that seek the reaction of my peers.  A classroom is a community—one whose growth is directly correlated to the effort exhibited by both the students and the teacher, together—and stupid questions drag that community down.

Enough Is Enough

You can say what you will about hazing, but at this point it is clear that there are bigger issues happening on Emory’s campus.  Pledging a fraternity is a decision that individuals make, the majority of whom are fully aware of the gravity of that decision.  What goes on in fraternity basements may seem cruel and unusual, even scary to outsiders, but the recurring issue of sexual abuse on campus is more alarming than any instance of eating dog food or drinking vodka.  Sexual assault simply cannot be tolerated on a college campus.

            What is nauseating about the current situation is that there is no obvious solution.  It is easy to throw a house off campus or expel an individual when they commit a heinous act, but it shouldn’t come down to that.  The issue at hand is clearly one of culture; sexual assault cannot be addressed on a case-by-case basis.  This is a campus-wide issue.  It should be a basic right of students to feel safe on the campus they call home for four years.  Nobody wants to live in constant fear of their personal wellbeing.

            I am impressed with IFC’s swift reaction to the most recent case—we cannot continue to support a culture that breeds disrespect and neglect.  It would be naïve to dismiss this social freeze as the many taking the fall for the actions of a few.  This issue is one that continues to arise and will not cease to do so until it is addressed directly.  Finally a governing body at Emory has decided to attack a problem at its heart.

            We are the ones with the power here.  Whether or not fraternities continue to be a significant presence at Emory and across the country remains to be seen, but, the manner in which the student body acts socially must change.  This is an opportunity for the community as a whole to grow.  Instead of erasing problems when they occur, we have to take actions to prevent the problem from happening in the first place.

The entire campus would benefit from education on sexual assault; I know I’m hardly educated on the subject, at least not formally.  I’ve been lectured on drinking responsibly, and the proper use of condoms, and birth control on countless occasions, but I’ve never been exposed to healthy dialogue regarding sexual assault and its prevention.  It is our responsibility as students to respect our peers and foster a community that values the safety of its constituents.  IFC has shown that it is ready to make swift and powerful motions to change the ugly reality that current students are living in.

            In a culture where, for many, a night out means getting blackout and going to Maggie’s; in a culture where, for many, sexual conquest is glorified above all else; in a culture where, for many, the campus feels like anything but home; it is our duty to reevaluate how we interact with the people around us.  I’d like to personally thank IFC for taking such a strong stand against the abuse that plagues campuses across the country.  This is no longer about institutions or organizations; this is about community.  We need to save ours before it’s too late.