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OPINION
Friday, June 15, 1984

Page 6

The Michigan Daily

EJbe aWdtirgan BUiIQ
Vol. XCIV, No. 17-S
94 Years of Editorial Freedom
Managed and Edited by Students at
The University of Michigan
Editorials represent a majority opinion of the
Daily Editorial Board


Drunken abandon
T HE IDEA of a national drinking age has
been seducing politicans for several years
now. Who, after all, can be in favor of drunken
carnage on the highways? And isn't it true
that young drivers have a higher incidence of
drunk driving crashes than the population as a
whole? Last week, the carefully orchestrated.
seduction turned into an orgy, and the House
of Representatives (and Second District
Republican Carl Pursell with it) voted by a lop-
sided margin to cut off highway funds to any
state which dares to keep its drinking age
below 21.
Unfortunately, as with many seductions,
reason here has taken a back seat to emotion.
By attempting to create a national drinking
age, the House has acted contrary to common
sense, to Constitutional principles, and to the
very interests it seeks to protect.
There are good reasons why a majority of
states have refused to raise their drinking
ages to 21. A higher age, for example, can
easily create as many problems as it is sup-
posed to solve. It drives drinking underground
- away from parents and social environment
which can educate young drinkers. It creates
resentment toward the law and toward law
enforcement agencies. It is a significant.
deprivation of civil liberties which consciously
avoids exploring less restrictive pathways to
the same goal.
More importantly, in rejecting the con-
sidered judgment of state legislatures in a
matter of general criminal law, the House has
attempted to unduly expand the reach of
federal power. The Constitution wisely cir-
cumscribed the range of federal authority,
and it clearly reserved to the states the power
to create criminal sanctions -within certain
constitutional limits. The states are not mere
administrative units which have power only as
long as Congress wills it; different states are
supposed to have the ability to enact different
competing rules for their citizens.
It's hard to fathom an argument which could
legitimately frame drunk driving as a federal
issue. Nevertheless, if the House felt the
pressure on it from Mothers Against Drunk
Driving and other groups was so strong that
federal action was necessary, it should have
chosen other, less intrusive means. What's
wrong with federally mandated driver
awareness programs, for example, especially
when compared to a federally mandated state
liquor code?

Wasserman
20 INEVITABLE FR TZ FRIGHTENED FRIT2
33
ROCKY FR ITZ. pEAGMAKERRTZ I ROCVY FR ITZ 21
At Glen bard East, it's not all roses

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By Louis Freedberg
LOMBARD, Ill.-Diana
Slyfield is 17, a short step from
her high school graduation. She
seems to be on the fast tract to
success.
Bright, outgoing, attractive,
she is the No. 1 student at Glen-
bard East High, was editor-in-
chief of the school's award-
winning newspaper, and has been
accepted at Princeton and other
major universities. This fall
she'll go to Northwestern in
Evanston, Ill., 25 miles away, as
a journalism major.
HER FUTURE, by almost any
measure, should be assured.
But Slyfield is worried. "As a
journalist, just how much money
am I going to make?" she asks,
"Am I going to have to live in the
ghetto?" She says her father, a
lawyer, and her mother, a
librarian, are worried too. And
she recalls the time a journalism
professor told her class, "You're
going to fail at it."
"That kind of attitude puts you
in a state of depression about
your future," she says.
Other students in her jour-
nalism class in this white subur-
ban community express similar
fears. They defy the stereotype
that for those in the white subur-
bs at least, youth is an age of
hope, of opportunity. Instead, it
has become an age of anxiety.
STUDENTS ARE anxious
about almost everything-about
getting into a good college, about
whether they should get married
or have children. And they worry
about whether they'll make
enough money to guarantee a
stable future.
There are few outward signs of
this underlying malaise. At Glen-
bard, as in most suburban
schools, the majority of students
are headed for college. Most will

have little trouble finding a job.
In late spring, the school's drama
club was rehearsing Noel
Coward's "Blithe Spirit," and all
the talk was of the school prom,
complete with rented limousines.
The theme this year was "On
Wings of Love."
In the hallways, young people
clutch at each other. Some kiss
passionately at the classroom
door, breaking apart only at the
school bell.
YET CONVERSATIONS with
students and faculty soon reveal
that something is seriously
amiss.
There's a lot of depression,"
says Jerry Meyer, a school coun-
selor for 24 years. There have
been no suicides here, although
there were two at neighboring
Hinsdale Central High last
February.
"When I think back to the '60s
and '70s people assumed a college
education would lead to a job,"
says Meyer. "Now kids have got-
ten the point that a B.A. does not
lead to a job, let alone a good job."
IN THE face of these uncer-
tainties, students have become
more focused, pragmatic, and
competitive.
This shows up particularly
among some of the best and
brightest students, many of
whom sign up each year for
Howard Spanogle's journalism
class.
MANY MIDDLE America
students also express deep doubts
about marriage and family life,
though none of their parents are
divorced. Some say they want to
postpone marriage until they're
over 30 at least. Others say they
don't want to get married at all,
or if they do, they don't want kids.
In this respect, they're in step
with the generation ahead of
them. Between 1970 and 1982, the
number of men and women bet-

ween the ages of 30 and 34 who
had never married doubled. And
according to a recent Census
Bureay report, there are signs
that the number of people who
will never marry is increasing.
Glenbrook students are in
unusually good positions to com-
ment on their own generation.
With "Mr. Spann," as they affec-
tionately call their journalism
teacher, they've compiled a lan-
dmark book, called "Teenagers
themselves," which is based on
responses from 9,000 teen-agers
from all 50 states on issues like
sex, parents, drugs, death,
violence, war and religion,
marriage and money.
THE JUST-RELEASED book,
published by Adama Books in
New York, underscores just how
widespread young people's
anxieties about their futures are:
"Sometimes teen-agers feel
like all the slots are filled, and
there's no place for them," write
the young editors in their
epilogue.
Perhaps the most positive sign
of how Spanogle's students cope
with these concerns is their
eagerness to talk about them-
selves, the open way they discuss
their fears, even in front of
classmates.
For now, they have a little
breathing space before taking on
the competitiveness of college
life. Diana Slyfield, with the
pressures of senior year behind
her, says she can finally "have
fun."
But even "having fun" has its
anxieties. Until a few days before
the event, Diana didn't have a
date for the senior prom.
Freedberg, an an-
thropologist, wrote this article
for Pacific News Service.

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