Tufts University - Jumbo Yearbook (Medford, MA)

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The five years have gone quickly. When I came to Tufts, I was a starry-eyed idealist ready to change the world, and thought I might just as well start here. It didn ' t take long, though, to develop myopic vision and to view the campus as an orgy of demonstrations, fire bombings, drugs, and wrenching social dis¬ locations. My perceptions — or misperceptions — inevitably led to a depressing malaise, a feeling of cynical helplessness. That ' s when I took up squash; it was a way, I thought, of unleashing my frustrations and giving vent to the flow of stored up adrenalin within me. The ball, subject to unmerciful blows, personified the person at whom I was thoroughly (expletive deleted) at the moment. While squash may have been a temporary palliative (being beaten consistently by an overweight German professor can restore one ' s sense of humility), it didn ' t really correct my distorted vision. The remedial process would be long, often rough, filled with its share of detours. And so it was; but I think I ' ve made it. Much as I ' d like to say I deserve full credit, I can ' t. That, I ' m happy and proud to say, goes to Tufts. It goes to the students who allowed me to share some of their experiences, their fun, their apprehensions, who at times went out of their way to say thanks for some small thing, and who said hi with a warm smile; it goes to the students who, in spite of personal hardships I have never had to endure, bounced back and taught me the meaning of guts; it goes to the students who spent their emotional energies in the preservation of a friend and taught me what sensitivity and love are all about; it goes to the students who handled their complicated lives with a maturity well beyond their years and taught me a new dimension of the word respect; it goes to the students on whom I had necessarily to lower the boom and taught me a more meaningful kind of humility than I had learned on the squash court. Credit also goes, of course, to so many faculty members and administrators who encouraged me when I needed it most, and often in spite of irreconciliable differences of opinions, thereby teaching me a lesson in objectivity; they counseled me well and taught me the value of wisdom. They took me, an outsider, into their worlds and taught me that friendship crosses racial, ethnic, religious, and professional lines. They never once delighted in my mistakes-except for that fat German professor, and his delight was usually confined to my double faults. So what have these four years been all about? Personally, a rare learning experience, and the only credit claimed for myself in the process is that of any student that has profited from the Tufts experience. Although it took me five years to graduate and I ' ll be leaving with a few I ' s, your impact has made a dramatic difference on me as a father, a husband, and as a human being. James Steindler Dean of Students

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