The Michigan Daily - Monday, August 11, 2003 - 5 VIEWPOINT This never happened at recess! Kicking and screaming BY SRAVYA CHIRUMAMILLA Thursday late afternoon, as my colleagues and I were playing kick- ball at Elbel Field, the powers that be barred us from play. The Recre- ational Sports referee first moved us off the softball field. After we had started to play again on a makeshift field next to the train tracks, an organizer forced us to move from the second location, suggesting we share an unobtrusive area with the cheerleading camp that was practicing down the field or to set up our field in the parking lot next to the field hockey rink. The intramural softball teams often shouted down the thirteen- year-olds practicing their cheering and even this fan who was joyfully playing with a bottle of bubbles. Per- haps the teams were caught up in the heat of the finals, but the referees and organizers should not shuffle non-IM participants off the property. On the other hand,-when IM par- ticipants schedule time in the nata- torium, it is not uncommon to see their pool time switched so that non-University persons can take pri- ority. Simply because the University earns money from these people should not disadvantage students who are already paying for the use of the facilities. While an argument can be made that IM sports are pro- moted by earning p-iority over unorganized sports such as kickhall, this same reasoning fails to explain non-University members getting preferential treatment over students. The routine neglect of students in favor of those paying the Uni- versity is not reserved just for our athletic facilities. When the Uni- versity hailed the arrival of author Salman Rushdie for a three-day visit in March, it failed to include more than three hours of student- Rushdie interaction. In fact, even faculty members whose entire courses were dedicated to Rushdie's works were not invited to the gala dinner, which was reserved to large donors. Discontinuing vital programs has also become a trend at the University. Students interested in a journalism career can no longer ean a degree in that field from the University. Instead, they must look to student media to educate and to gain experience. Most stu- dents cannot afford attending prestigious journalism schools, as most are private such as Columbia University or the Medill School at Northwestern University, and this University needs to offer a com- petitive alternative. Similarly, the LSA and Medical School collaboration in the Inte- flex program, which produced the likes of Dr. Sanjay Gupta of CNN fame, has ended. This eight-year program that provided high school seniors a spot in medical school contingent on average MCAT scores is no longer available at the University. Instead of attending the University, my cousin, a Michigan fan for years who has been raised in all things maize and blue, has chosen to attend the Lyman Briggs School, the seven-year program at Michigan State University. Even more students leave Michigan for the numerous six-year programs in Ohio universities such as those at Case Western or Akron. While some oppose this program because students might miss out in the col- lege experience, students must be given this choice. Providing students the right to choose between more programs is just one way the administration can improve the quality of educa- tion at the University. Treating students with respect will create a cohesive university whose alumni will fondly remember it for end- less opportunities and esteem instead of limited resources. One such university is Rice University, which places an inspir- ing emphasis on the honor system. The students and their university understand that the reason for attending a university is for educa- tional purposes. Professors do not proctor the exams, and students realize the weight of the trust placed on them. In order to stress the importance of the honor code, students take an active role in pre- venting honor code violations. In fact, the student newspaper, the Rice Thresher, usually discusses the merits of the student govern- ment's vote on honor code appeals or a student's appearance in front of the Honor Council. University students besides those in the Engineering School, however, have failed to persuade the administration to take them into account. The once vibrant student body that only a couple of years ago took to the streets protesting the opening of Starbucks now sits passively without fighting for our rights. Only through student lobby- ing will an unadulterated message reach the administration: Punch' and cookies are not enough to sub- due a student populace that is tired of being treated as children. JOHN HONKALA Loi This is my last column. No more under- handed stabs at Dubya or the suburbs. No more cheap liter- ary devices or over- wrought pleas. This is the last one. Twice a month for the last year, I've had 800 words to write about anything I want, and it's even avail- able for people to read. It's free! Frankly, it's become quite addicting and I'm going to miss it like crazy. I'm not sure I can quit this cold turkey. I don't know what I'm going to do come September. God forbid, I start a Weblog or something. I didn't even do much to get this col- umn, either. I just wandered into the Daily a few years ago, joined the editorial board and sort of went from there. Sort of like finding crack in the gutter. So, I'm lucky. But a week from now, I'll be gone, apartment hunting with old friends in Chicago, likely annoying the living crap out of them with column ideas that will never be. Probably a year from now I'll be doing the same thing. (Coming up with column ideas, not annoying the liv- ing crap out of them.) I've been thinking about this column for about two weeks now, trying to figure out how to approach it. I really wanted to write something profound, something that would make people stop reading and go, Wow. And I wanted to do it without being sappy. The problem is, I've got nothing - not an ounce of profundity. Profanity, I've got by the boatload, but this isn't a party at Dubya's so I'll hold my tongue. So, I'm left with sappy, which would actually be a lot easier to pull off if I was at Junior's joint. Oh wait. He doesn't drink anymore. Right. Gotta get sappy somehow, though. Maybe George and I could lie around the ranch and read melancholic books. Wait, he doesn't read either. I guess I'd have to settle for a dis- cussion about the sad state of America's great cities. Wait, not that either. Oh, fuck it. I'll just stick with the profanity and let the sappiness come out on its own. Before I get too sugary, I should admit that this hasn't always been sweet potato pie. For example, I was absolute- ly mortified every time I found a mis- placed comma or a poorly used word in the print edition. And I use the word mortified for a very specific reason - because it conjures up images of prim and proper old ladies accidentally fart- ing at the bridge table. I'm sure no one noticed my flubs, but it made me want to crawl under the nearest table. But really, it's laughable to think of complaining about this column. It's far and away the best thing I've done since I've been here. In my mind, every person on this campus wants this job and I just hap- pened to get lucky. (This, my friends, is what I consider getting lucky. Perhaps that sheds some light on a few things.) It really is addicting. If you're not careful it can go straight to your head. I'd be lying if I said I never got a huge rush from seeing someone in class read- ing my column or once thought that I was going to become some sort of minor University celebrity. As if when Ann Arboritts sit down for coffee they pull out the Daily and ask, Have you read Honkala yet? You just hafta. ButI know some people have actually read it because I've gotten e-mails, which is just about the coolest thing in the world. Seriously, thank you for that. Even that guy who wrote to tell me that I'm aracist. More than anything else, though, I'm going to miss sitting down at the comput- er and poring over stacks of The New York Times, Detroit Free Presses and the- sauri searching for column ideas. And then turning them over in my feeble mind until I find something relevant and origi- nal to write. And then just making fun of George W. Bush instead, because it's just so easy. Absolutely no doubt about it, that was my favorite of this job. Some people have yoga. I have Dubya. In all seriousness, I have enjoyed this more than I ever thought was possible. I really, really hope I get the opportunity to do it again. But even if that never hap- pens, at least I'll have a folder full of hate mail and stacks of yellowed newspa- pers to show my kids and their kids. I'll be an old man then, so I'll sit them on my knee and tell them about my year as a crusading journalist. The year I spent fighting the system. Embellish a little, lie. Just like our president. Man, I'm goingto miss this. Honkala cas be reached at jhonkala@umich.edu. The cream filling DANIEL ADAMS ADVANTAGExt? PUsH. Chirumamilla is an LSA junior and the Daily's editor in chief was always warned by friends, rela- tives and teachers that I should enjoy my high school years, for they were destined to be remembered as the "best years of my life." I spent my four years in high school waiting for the fun to start, yet the only thing I remember feeling was pressure, anxiety and stress. I can remember a time when the car ride back from my family's annual vaca- tion in mid-August brought with it the awful realization that school was mere weeks away. Confirming what had usually become obvious, office supply stores began to advertise "Back to School" sales - the death knell for a summer vacation that was already well on its way to being over. In short, I knew that another year of high school was en route, and I dreaded its approach. I don't feel that way anymore. In fact, you could say that I've been looking forward to going back to school now for the past three months. When I'm back at the "U," and not on break, I enjoy a work week that usual- ly consists of sitting in lecture halls and classrooms 16 hours a week. Afterwards, I go and get a two-pound burrito, the aptly named El Gordo, at Panchero's on South U. I go to the football games, and pay far less than the common man for tickets. I have a part-time job on the weekends that has significantly less responsibility than I can handle. I stay out late, wake up late and do what I want most of the time. I take a look at my life now, "on vacation," and realize that being on summer break is no break at all. There is nothing fun about a four month peri- od where most college students are faced with these tasty choices: a) You could head home, back with your parents to show them all the nasty habits you've picked up since you've been away. Show them first- hand why they shipped you off to school in the first place. Or, b) Toss yourself into the real world. Discover that Ann Arbor crap jobs won't pay for both Ann Arbor rent and a 60-dollar-a-week drinking habit. Or, c) Take an internship: slavery in the name of job experience that is vaguely connected to yotpr najor of choice, which, chances are, won't be your major of choice come next semester. Not exactly stellar options. When I go home for summer break, the work week gets longer and the job gets tougher. Mom is decidedly against opening a Panchero's franchise in our kitchen. Most everyone I care to spend time with is busy or out of the state and every person I never wanted to see again usually decides to drop by for a chat on my day off. These vis- its from high school classmates are obligatory, and only confirm the "glory days" of high school really weren't so glorious and that I won't be attending my high school reunion. So here I sit, tan, fit and royally discontent, counting the days until I go back to school, and I can't help but think how truly perverse this situation is. I spent most of my youth wishing away the school year, and now I wish away the summer months so I can go back to school. I know full well that when my four years here are over, and I get handed a degree, life will get a lot more serious really quickly, whether I like it or not. Responsibili- ties, taxes and my thirties await. Mea while, I'm fortunate enough to get these college years, which are turning out to be four amazing years of first time experiences. It's your first taste of freedom. Your first responsibility. Your first step towards something you enjoy. Your first meaningful education, by teachers, most of whom really know what they are talking about. Your first taste of late night Blimpy Burger, and your first "Walk of Shame." Here, you get to stand in the Diag screaming at the top of your lungs, or walk through it saying nothing at all. I'm loving every minute of it. Adams can be reached at dnadams@umich.edu.