3 Michigan Daily LET HIM WHO IS WONt)UT' SIN, CASrlW FRW STOW 1 1 - NSIIIY E'f- WE{ yICH SV'fU~Ti-?NE11 yZVr NV~ I~o WNO ?E6 'V6 FOL~056 -rue v /'~ ( M1D '(HEY AG HIVE ~ $If (- Fg(EA*f1eS I~lFF f A ORG ". AI&W W '~IGcA1.Sf1'/E' l/ f 0~ LEY ME REPHRASE " qT STA'tEM fi~ TM 1 AMJP 16 MOR1OEY 5Hi' SN WO W 'A xv Ow', C. Reflctions on Yom Kippur: Still searching for home e At E MicIig 3U augl Eighty;Eight Years of Editorial Freedom 420 Moynard St., Ann Arbor, MI 48109 ol. LXXXVIII, No. 13 News Phone: 764-0552 Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan heft attrition rate: Wh yit-should bother us, By SUSAN ADES As I waded with the masses through the Fishbowl at noon one fall day in 1974, there emerged from the leafletting socialists, pacifists, unionizers and philoso- phizers a stout, bearded fellow, dressed in black from his hat to, his well-worn, laced shoes. Having hand-picked the dark- eyed brunettes from the crowd, he approached me with arms out- stretched, each hand clutching a bobbing plastic bag containing a simple white candle tucked into an aluminum candle holder. I CHANGED my course. He changed his, calling through his nose as he followed me, "You Jewish?" "No,' I answered over my shoulder, catching the gaze of his sad eyes. Somehow he knew I was lying. The man, if you've never en- countered him or his compatri- ots, was from Chabad House - a Chasidic group on campus. I, a worldly freshwoman, was from 'Great Neck,New York, where the tradition of lighting the Sab- bath candles on Friday night was common to upwards of 65 per cent of the town's considerable population. 4WY OWN FAMILY is not what yu 'd call religious. Though my first theatre experience was a supporting role as a potato pan- cake at two-and-a-half, my form- ative years in Hebrew school were marked by teachers bristling at my consistant failure to attend the required youth ser- vices. My father simply refused to be bothered with carpooling at the ungodly hour of 8 oclock on a Saturday morning. Orthodozy aside, I was brought up true to the Fiddler on the Roof gospel - Tradition. It meanders thick and syrupy through my past in the form of Friday night chick- en and rice, 'richly ethnic Pass-, over seders with cursory adher- ence to the ceremonial prayers), fasting on Yom Kippur and light- ing the candles at Chanukah (at least for the first of eight nights.) Most . important, tradition is overwhelmingly a family affair. So what happens when one grows up and goes to a University so large it could be a perfect an- tonym for "family"? One finds, largely, that the heartbeat of campus life is not neatly syn- chrpnized with the tradition of any religion. Friday night' chicken and rice, no more. You eat whatever the dorms serve up (or pay extra for Hillel's chicken and rice). And no longer can classes be easily missed in honor of the High Holidays,- the most sanctified in the Jewish tradition.. LIKE THE WALLS of Jericho, tradition comes tumbling down on the silent and blinking potato pancake from New York. Hillel furnished my first cam- pus-style Yom Kippur, but no family was included in the pack- age. My father wasn't there to hustle me out, of the house, late for services as usual. And when the Day of Atonement passed into dusk, my father wasn't there to call me in from my perch on the synagogue stoop to hear the blow- iig of the shofar - the ceremon- ial horn that is my favorite of all Jewish traditions. Instead,, in a meeting room crowded with folding chairs and finely frocked University stu- dents, I picked out a "family" of familiar hometown faces. Of the Great Neck folk I recognized, I had shared with one eight sum- mers of antics at an all-girls Jew- ish camp in Vermont; with another, I had reluctantly shared my answers to a physics exai not a year before; with a third, I shared a string of shallow Hi- How-are-yas. I WENT HOME and broke my day-long fast on luke-warm dorm leftovers. It was in the next week that I was discovered by the little man from Chabad House. No,'I didn't want his traditional Sabbath can- dles that would throw flickers of- religious light on the cinder-block walls of my Alice Lloyd double, No, I was no longer in the market for traditional Judaism. I had left that back home. And so, I found, had many of i:y Jewish peers;s many of them had migrated to. the Pilot Program from subur- ban, upper-middle-class, liberal upbringings like my own. Such religious uncertainty showed itself in a number of ways. Disciplines concerned with the "inner self" - transcendent- al meditation, yoga, EST - drew some of the disenchanted. Oth- ers, ,reevaluating Judaism, plunged back into it, taking satis- faction in choosing one's own course rather than being carried on a wave of tradition. Others, myself included, delighted in, dwelling more on the history than on the spirituality of Judaism. THEN, LAST APRIL, I cooked fresh string beans, onions, garlic, allspice and cinnamon, then car- ted the dish to a pot luck seder at the home of a non-Jewish friend. There, with a 70/30 radio of Jews to non-Jews, we ate, sang, and read from "The People's Seder" Haggadah, which excerpts from the works of Gandhi, Marcuse, and Marx. Last week, on the eve of the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hash- anna, I went to Hillel's evening service at Mendelssohn Theater. A senior now, I found a wealth of familiar faces smiling at me from the assembly, and I felt somewhat at home. Next to me sat a friend who had, eight mon- ths before, taken me home to a festive, fairy tale Christmas. He had been raised in an agnostic household with a penchant for tradition. But though I had been exposed to 'New York's Christ- mas for years and felt comfort: able in its midst, Mendelssohn Theater was akin to a foreign country in heeyes of my friend, that night. And I basked in my role as an emmisary. Still, today is Yom Kippur; my- stomach will churn and groan un- til sundown. I'll reflect on the year that has lapsed and about my evolving attitude toward Ju, daism, but more than that, I'll wish that lingering wish - that for just one day I could be home., Susan Ades is co-editor of the Daily's Sunday Magazine. Today is Yom Kippur, the' Jewish Day of Atonement. [A RECENT REPORT to the LSA faculty, Associate Dean Charles rr s -noted that nearly 30 per-centrof, fi-shpersons who er-oll irrthe-c61 e ail to graduate. Morris said'that -third of those leaving -10 per cent il LSA students - are dismissed for demic reasons. The remaining two- rds leave "voluntarily."' Apparently, the attrition rate of nsfer students is significantly high- Furthermore, two-thirds of Oppor- ity Program students who drop out ilmost all of whom are minority stu- its - have not succeeded academi- ly. Morris told the LSA faculty he was npressed" with the school's attrition- e, that it was relatively low. Cer- nly all academic institutions host a nber of students who, regrettably, to graduate. But what of those who ye on their own? It has never been disputed that inseling at the University is made ficult by the sheer number of stu- its who need assistance. Neverthe- less, each college, when it enrolls a stu- dent, has an obligation to steer that , tu ent. toward graduation as ,estit- Some will fire,ir: purely peispnal. reasons, that life at the University is not what they expected. The Univer- sity has no special obligation to please these few. But the attrition rates for transfer and Opportunity Program students are discouragingly high. Surely many of these students would like to stay, but have found themselves in over their heads. To them, the, University, and each college, owes a special obligation. We echo calls for improved counseling and orientation programs. It should be un- necessary to say that the purpose of any university is to educate and im- prove its students, not to preside over their academic failure-. Academic standards should by no means be lowered. But the University should do all it can to help students meet those standards. From Ann Arbor to wW/ joHNNY' cak -Ir INK 7 By CHRIS GOODALL Visit any major university campus around the world and two things will remain very much the same. The first passes without comment: A large percentage of the undergraduates will be wear- ing American denim. Second, and this is a little more surprising, in 'the best academic institutions across Europe, Asia and America there will often be more Japanese than any other foreign nationality. As only the short- sighted will have missed, the Uni- versity of Michigan is no excep- tion to the general rule. Those who are well-travelled enough to have seen universities in other continents will have no- ticed a similar pattern. The thoughtful will have put forward two hypotheses. Perhaps the Japanese are highly academic people or, on the other hand, per- reasonable explanations would be wrong. Most Japanese are no more scholarly than thesaverage University of Michigan fresh- man. Furthermore, Japanese universities are modeled on American campuses, even down to the size of classes and the dear- th of decent accommodations, and have perfectly reputable graduate schools. More unlikely explanations are tried: is it some part of a gigantic plan to subvert Western culture, whatever that may + be? If this were true, why do these gentle- men, for few Japanese women students go abroad, exhibit such passivity and so rarely prosely- tize for their country? The answer to our original question is rather mundane. For centuries the Japanese have been acutely conscious of their own isolation in the world and'their vulnerability to external pres- l 0 ph -1) 1 G0 e 0 about the size of a small eastern seaboard state. Rather contrary to their. nature, the Japanese have been obliged to become international- ists in outlook. Heavily reliant on good relations with other coun- tries, they make :every effort to penetrate the inscrutable paradoxes of Western societies. EVERY YEAR, the govern- ment and large business firms send thousands of successful Jap- anese away to absorb the eccen- trities of host nations. The event- ual aims of this expensive exer- cise are rather simple, though some of them must remain mat- ters of speculation. Most ob- viously, Japanese firms will see in their young executives sub- stantial investment in their coun- try's continued export growth. As every firm trying to sell to Japan knows, it is very difficult to ex- port to a country whose economy you don't understand, whose lan- guage you don't speak and whose customers you don't know. So, like most things in Japan, it all comes down to trade. The rather earnest Japanese next to you in the library has come to learn how to forestall any future U.S. President restricting im- ports from Japan, and to under- stand America for his firm. Large trading firms like Mitsui and Mitsubishi do nothing except Japan Cambridge to study the danger- ous maze of European business, or to Brussels to understand the bureaucracy of the 'Europearn Common Market. In more techni- cal subjects; they'll learn how America bilds nuclear reactors and how Canada generates hy- dro-electricity. Being the best im- itator in the world is a charger rightly laid at Japan's door! FURTHERMORE, the Japa- nese are here to make contacts. Back home, all business is done face-to-face with people you know, preferably, for several years. Remember thiĀ§ when you're sitting in your sprawling office in Detroit. The Japanese in your dorm now are the people you're going to hear from in Japan. And then, of course, the Japa- nese are here to learn English. Perhaps surprisingly for such a pragmatic nation, the English they learned in school is often that of Shakespeare rather than the college slang of the 1970s. Conversation practice is a useful adjunct to their education. Japa- nese itself is such a ferociously difficult language to learn that the people themselves don't ex- pect foreigners to memorize even a few words. So, some useful rules in dealing with Japanese friends are worth having Talk slnwlv. give him 9 , ,.__ / I 'The Japanese have been obliged to be- come internationalists in outlook . . . The rather earnest Japanese next to you in the L//V i ILII library has come to learn how to forestall any future U.S. President restricting imports from Japan, and to understand America for his firm' '4 UN i I