Temple University - Templar Yearbook (Philadelphia, PA)

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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

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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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Sitting in a tree, sharing the same branch, were Poetry and Science—a very odd couple according to all scholars. Aware of this discrepancy, and the need for change, I ventured forth and started to converse with them in my very best manner. After discussing their strange relationship, I settled back and waited for their replies. I was sure that their minds were changed because they had quizzically gazed at each other while I had talked. Science, a small young woman, pondered a while before replying. Smilingly she said, “Master Poet and I sat together long before Adam walked by. Why do you wish to separate us now? Didn’t you know it was I who taught Poet his rhyme, and he who explained to me about bleeding rocks and broken hearts? Can’t you see we exist together?” Knowing that there was an answer, but not having it at the time, I begged their pardon and continued on my way. The ruins I passed were marvelous to explore, but my time was limited, and I only glanced at them from afar. It was getting darker—so dark that I fell into a hole many times my height. Before my first screams died away, a face appeared at the top of the hole. Startled, but relieved, I asked for help. Without saying a word, the stranger lowered a lantern. In the lantern s light, I saw all around me, from the bottom of the hole to its top. The stranger shouted down: “Use what’s around you.” Pleased with my find. I started the climb. Placing hands and feet on hard stacked papers which were the steps, I found my way to the top. Before I could say “thank you to the stranger, he moaned, You’ll never learn; you’ll fall again.” While walking away, I heard him say, “It by David Goodman does jio good to be close at hand; no one ever listens to History.’ The final leg of my journey was started after a short rest. Before long, the road branched into three oaths. While studying the various ways, I spotted an old man whittling. “Good evening. I said. “Can you tell me the correct way?” Looking up at me, the man said: “I can guide vour hands at whittling, or your eves and mind along the various paths, but only you can choose the correct way. We sat and talked awhile about the roads and their ends. After we had finished, we parted. After travelling a few steps down the road that I had chosen, I tunica and called. Thanks for the Education. I’m finally on my way. This may be a C + paper in any English 1 class, but it is also a passing comment about my education in Liberal Arts. Learning can be a terrible journey if you must surmount the extra obstacles fostered by “teachers ”. Many of the teachers at Temple are still in that forest, searching for the correct road. And yet, thev are telling us the “correct road . Fear, unfortunately, dominates a teacher’s curriculum here because the classroom education has become simply a buffer for their job retention. Teacher, teacher, build up those walls. Never allow your face to fall, Upon that branch shared for all. For if you see a glimpse of light. Threading through all lx oks of might. The road home may be. As easily as sharing your tree. ji