University of Virginia - Corks and Curls Yearbook (Charlottesville, VA)

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six years or more of undergraduate schooling. The gut courses are disappearing, the attri- tion rate is dropping, and the libraries are filled with students even on a Saturday night. The professor who once quipped that Alderman Li- brary was the most pleasant place he had ever worked because he never saw a student there would have to seek solitude in different quarters now. The bright first year-man is studying princi- ples of physics his father might not have learned until graduate school. Getting an education, in short, has become a serious matter. As a result, the intellectual atmosphere of the University is becoming more electric. There are still those who label Charlottesville a cultural desert, but the shortsightedness of their judg- ment is obvious to anyone who has taken the trouble to look into the concerts, lectures, plays, exhibits, and discussions the University commu- nity is offered. There is local talent well demon- strated by groups like the Virginia Players and by many of the contributors to student publica- tions. There is also the slate of famed visitors to Charlottesville that reads like the guest list for a Truman Capote party. The interested student this year, for example, could have heard Eileen Farrell sing, Roger Blough discuss the economy, Malcolm Cowley reminisce about Paris in the Twenties, or George Wallace address the local hill folk. The University's in residence pro- grams, furthermore, brought to the Grounds the affable Sir John Wheeler-Bennett, the ever dip- lomatic Charles Baldwin, the formidable Sir Robert Menzies, the talented Peter Taylor. The new Center for Advanced Studies, the state's willingness to spend more money on higher edu- cation, the College's liberalized course require- ments and broader curriculum-all promise an exciting academic future.

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Q! llffi fl Perhaps the most pervading change has been in the attitudes of the students themselves. The University was once uncharitably labeled as a haven for Southern snobs and Ivy League rejects. Something of this reputation lingers perhaps, but the University the Class of '68 has known is filled with students who wouldn't know a Randolph from a Carter and who have never been near a polo pony. The Virginia man, likewise, was once known chiefly for his legendary abilities at drinking Jack Daniels, rolling to Sweet Briar or Hollins, and choosing the gut courses that guaranteed his gentleman's C . Individuals still exist that fit this description, and the ABC stores and the girls' schools certainly haven't gone out of business. Yet as an archetype, this sporting fel- low has gone the way of parties in the Quad, for- mal dances in the gym and party weekends that began on Tuesday. The typical University student, assuming there is such a creature, spends much more time with his books than his counterpart a decade ago. This is partly the result of General Hershey's alternative for staying in school and of the pressures on graduate admissions. lt has more to do, however, with the higher calibre of student the University now attracts. The approv- al formerly accorded a gentleman's C now goes to Dean's List status, as the competition for grades and honors grows keen. Teachers expect more-and the students produce it. While the fraternities still aren't exactly intellectual bee- hives, even they reflect these developments in dinner table conversation that is less likely to be concerned with drinking bouts or sexual prowess and more concerned with the English depart- ment's tenure policies or the effect of devalua- tion ofthe pound or the meaning of Bonnie and Clyde. Today it is almost impossible for the so- cial butterfly to flutter his leisurely way through

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