Temple University - Templar Yearbook (Philadelphia, PA)

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LOHELLOHELLOHELLOHEL) )HELLO adviiors all require hours of waiting. At least, now. I am usually fairly certain that I'm m the right line. The disorganization I tried to disclaim as a facade, however, is very real. I have been sent from one building to another over and over again, in fruitless Search of some assistance. As far as I can predict, organization will never he a part of Temple, and this endearing confusion will remain. I have not seen my orientation roommate since classes started, and in a sense. I am sorry. I met so many people very briefly at orientation with hopes of seeing them again I would love a chance to enhance and improve upon my first impressions of many people, but I am not given the opportunity. The interesting people I am meeting are often lost after one conversation, a glaring flass of a large university, especially one with a minimum of evening campus life for commuting students. I had expected a commuter school to lie awful, blit I have been proven wrong. The blur of organizations presented at orientation have emerged from their all-encompassing haze. I found that by observing a few meetings of a wide variety of groups, the sweeping slogans liecomc real humans, working together for a common cause. All fear is destroyed as one realizes the unified goal every special group has. This goal draws one closer to the group and adds relevance and a sense of purpose to one's education. Temple has taught me that less time must he spent in the classroom than anywhere else; the truth is that less real learning is done in class, (hi campus speakers and programs and groups that so brilliantly reflect the life shown by the programming at orientation arc the real teachers. One can only learn if he is a part of this activity. Temple is a racist institution, hut this racism can be fought on a personal or group level. So many on-campus groups are trying very bard to combat this racism by supporting and helping black organizations. Individuals can help just by learning to listen to each other. The false impression of separatism that orientation gave is not perpetuated by Temple m any visible way. The road is clear and it is the job of every student to follow that road. Now that school is down to a set routine and our classes of the future have materialized, my view of Temple is a much more realistic one. There are good and had classes; there are In nulls and unfriendly people Now that these classes have become concrete. Temple c-jii not be viewed as just a mass of people. It is. indeed, a seething school, full of life, creativity, and hope. Thus far, my freshman year has brought me much closer to the actuality of life and has enabled me to meet new people and greet new ideas and to see into them a little better.”

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ELLOHELLOHELLOHELLOHELLOHEL by Linda Holtzman August 1970 Irony of all ironies lurks before a Temple student as he first sees the campus. The trudge from the inimitable Broad Street subway reveals dark ulley-ways, broken-down stores, irreparable houses, and, gleaming in their midst, the modern, spotless walls of Temple University. My mind is not a totally illogical one. but somehow. even at first, it could not comprehend this strange juxtaposition. The overwhelming feeling I had upon entering the campus was one of inadequacy; how could I. a mere number on an eternal list of numbers, ever hope to do anything aliout changing these glaring incongruities? The shrieking voices coming from Hardwick Hall brought me back to reality. As I forced myself to stop melting into the sidewalk. a rather lost-looking student approached, banging a slightly bulging, well-stickered suitcase along with her Wranglered knee. 'Are you a freshman? she asked shyly. I wondered what gave me away; was il the tears in my eyes, or my blue quivering lips? Whatever it was. a friendship had been founded. Suddenly. Temple seemed a little less foreboding. Before, 1 hadn't stopped to realize that in the multitude of students, there might be one who could be reached on a personal level. From that moment on. I felt almost positive about Temple. As we waited in line after line. I imagined my next four years | ent in waiting: in lines for room keys, group leader numbers, linens and towels, booklets, and innumerable tags. I began wondering about the lack of organization that seemed to exist, but decided that it might only In- an exaggeration of my too vivid imagination. My small-town, sugar-sweet roommate and I seemed to have nothing hi common, but the first girl I’d met spared me. I preceded to spend a grand total of three hours in my room the entire three days. Most of the time was spent on elevators that stopped on cver ' floor. Most of the people I met were also riding elevators. The next best method for meeting people was merely sitting at a table of total strangers for meals. To my great disappointment. however. I found myself staying with a limited cross’d of people, most of whom I already knew. In a huge cross'd like that of orientation, it is much easier to confine oneself to one's own friends Getting to know well more than one or tsvo people is close to impossible. This situation predicted a difficult four years. Surprisingly, much of the material presented, was not typical college propaganda, overflowing with whipped cream and cherries. Even the dynamic, bubbling group leaders were honest and straightforward. No one attempted to hide Temple's failures, instead they tried to show its successes, and to allow us to weigh the scales. Creativity. the theme of a film we w ere shown, seemed to be a general goal sought by Temple as a school. I could sense the school groping for personal creativity to override the stilted, automated impression a large college so easily acquires. By the orientation's close, the unpronounceable names of countless organizations that one must be active in to make the most of your college education swam in my l «-luddled head. Gay Liberation Front especially impressed me. Resistance and Student Mobilization Committee blended with countless anti-war groups, all preaching similar doctrines with differences in methodology. However, beneficial the ideal of an organizational seminal was. the presentation left much to be desired. As an unknow ing. very confused new student, the maze of groups seemed to lie an almost witchlike beckoning to all young innocents. Temple is a racist institution, depriving lioth blacks and whites of the chance to communicate with each other. I arrived at this conclusion almost immediately. A black group sounded like a grand idea for blacks to discuss mutual problems, but can these problems be solved by isolation? How can blacks adjust to a predominantly white institution if. at their orientation, they are never exposed to whites? On Wednesday night, sve participated hi the great white farce, a panel discussion on racism to which no black students were invited We had three blacks talking to hundreds of white students who nearly pleaded with the leaders to invite the black group. Our pleas were ignored, and Temple's administration once again appeared to be an insurmountable block, thwarting all hops- of progress. Swimming tests, course selections, campus tours all passed with stings of excitement, disappointment, and fun. Ghoosmg a roster was as close to impossible as anything I've ever done. Mobs beating against tables shouting Poli Sci 12!. English 31! , But 1 can't he in school at four AM! penetrated the air. Lying on one of the few expanses of grass on campus proved to be an effective means of rest from this form of mind massacre. Sitting quietly at night, soothed by the gentle voice of a charming folk-singer also helped reverse the hectic mood. The prcvelant. calm post-midi light conversations helped close any further lingering gap. so that by morning, all fear and disappointment, all paranoia and desperation had vanished. Temple, like any other school is composer! of people, tadical and reactionary, boisterous and demure, friendly and cold, but all only | cople. Orientation's most important function. then, was to give each freshman a glimpse at his fellow-students and to help him see into them a little better December 1970 Irony of all ironies lurks before a Temple student every time he sees the campus. After a full semester, at Temple, I still can not accustom myself to Temple's eerie glow against a background of squalor. Now. however, I do not feel as useless as at first. There are means. I have found, to work through Temple's enormities in tutoring projects and special sociology and political science classes that deal with urban problems in a very realistic way. I am not a mere number unless I let myself be one; every student can contribute as an individual. Not only can each student give to school projects, but each student can give of himself to others in the school. The massive shriek of orientation has. In my expectant ears, been diffused into individual voices, each one saying something. At orientation. I clung to the closest, safest voice; now, Temple has. in some unexplainable way. forced me to look beyond my previous limits. I have met some of the world's most fascinating people, each one delivering a unique message to the world, a far cry from my previous feelings of mass identity or of stilted individualism. Line upon line upon line was an accurate first impression of Temple’s daily life. Food. Iiooks, lull payments and meetings with

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Dear Jason, Sept. 26,1970 Do I pity you! There you are at a major university, and it does not have a Basic Studies program. Why, simply everybody is in it here at Temple, except for a few weirdos who are either music majors or in the Honors Program. You see. Temple realizes that there are a lot of students who don’t know what to do with themselves. The Basic Studies course provides them with a sampling of the professional careers available. Not wanting anyone to miss out on such a well-rounded curriculum. Temple thoughtfully made the program a requirement for all students. This way, students who already know their majors are able to spend all their time on totally irrelevant courses. Remember all the fun we had in high school when we had to take all those requirements in order to graduate? Well, it is like that here, too! We go by the Chinese-Menu” system—one course from Requirement A and one course from Requirement B. 1 hate to rub it in, but you really are missing out on a lot. For example, you do not know the joy involved in taking a course you have no ability in. especially when it lias kept you from a course you especially wanted to take. It’s an experience to sit in a Requirement A” class tnat no one has any interest in—it's like nap time in kindergarten. Perhaps the reason Basic Studies is so interesting is because everyone cares in their own way about what they’re doing—the students are taking courses just to fulfill the requirements, the graduate assistants are hanging around in order to get their degrees, and the professors have to teach their pet subjects to a sea of blank faces. And you should see the exciting way in which the courses are presented! Everything is taught and memorized straight from the !x ok; creative thinking is frowned upon. The classes make lasting impressions—right up to the day after exam. After that. . .well. . . even if you have forgotten everything, it does not matter because you have gotten rid of another requirement, that, after au, is the main goal. Lately, though, there has been a rumor going around that Basic Studies might be dropped altogether. I can’t imagine why. But even if that is the case, the decision probably will not be retroactive, so it won’t affect me anyway. What I have to look forward to is a year and a half of taking subjects strictly to get them out of the way. Don’t you envy me?— Much love. Robin Cohn