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Graduating from high school, I was uniquely average by Duke standards, juggling academics, varsity sports, service organizations and the school newspaper. Before I arrived at Duke as a freshman, someone wise told me that college would be different—that I couldn’t choose “all of the above” when it came to extracurricular activities and expect to succeed—that I needed to pick one thing to do, and do it well.
A few weeks ago, I found myself embattled in a heated debate with a fellow Duke student about the merits of greek life on college campuses. And by heated, I mean that I calmly countered her ad hominem and straw man arguments with logical reasoning as she shouted at me. A few minutes after she left the conversation in a huff, she returned to deliver an “apology” of sorts. “I’m sorry we ended up on that topic. I’m sure you could have been a nice person…”
“You go to Duke!? That’s awesome!! Do you go to a lot of basketball games? Have you ever met Coach K?!”
The Chronicle will be running endorsement letters for the 2014 Young Trustee election beginning Monday, Feb. 3 and ending Wednesday, Feb. 5. We will accept letters from any and all student organizations until 6 p.m. on Tuesday, Feb. 4, so long as the groups adhere to the following guidelines:
It’s not an easy thing to admit. It’s something that is a very big part of who I am, and it’s something that I’ve hidden from all of you for almost eight hours now. Members of the Duke community, I have a confession to make: I am a future consultant. This morning, I signed my offer letter and solidified my status as one of those dirty C-words.
Columnists, myself certainly included, tend to do a lot of complaining. We complain about dining, about housing, about politics and about anything that we can use to fill our 850-word columns. Sure, sometimes we compliment or commend or pontificate, but in general, it’s easier to complain because there are so many things in our school and our nation that we’d like to see change. We’ve all been guilty of complaining about an issue without offering a solution, but I tend to think that’s OK as long as we’re at least starting a novel and necessary dialogue.
Today, my roommate, who is currently working on his honors thesis in public policy studies, recounted to me a story from an interview he conducted with an unnamed state representative. While conversing with the representative about our University, the interviewee commented, “Duke University really is a gem…a truly state-of-the-art campus. Everything is amazing, except the parking. The parking situation is embarrassing.”
Last night, as I was getting ready to leave The Chronicle’s office in 301 Flowers and go home, I remembered that my car was not on campus. I had walked from my off-campus apartment to my first class earlier that morning and hadn’t left campus since. One of the editors in the office suggested calling Safe Rides to get a lift back to my apartment, but I decided waiting around for the shuttle to arrive would be more trouble than it was worth. I insisted I would be perfectly fine making the 10 to 15 minute walk back home. It was about 11:30 p.m. and my phone was dead. As I walked out of the Flowers Building, past the Duke Chapel and into the mini-forest separating the Chapel from Science Drive, I had a startling realization: For the first time in my three-plus years at Duke, I didn’t feel safe on campus.
Class of 2017, please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Scott Briggs, and your elders here at Duke mostly likely remember me as that guy who used to write columns that almost spurred protests outside Larry Moneta’s office and (hopefully) made Joe Gonzalez cry regularly. For three semesters, I was a columnist for The Chronicle before retiring to become the Editorial Page Managing Editor last year. Since then, someone has unwittingly put me in charge of this section of the paper. The fact that I’m even allowed to write to you now, as the Editor Page Editor, is just one of the many changes I’ve implemented since my leadership (read: tyranny) of this section began at the end of last year. As a wise DG at the University of Maryland once said: “Tie yourself down to whatever chair you're sitting in, because this email semester is going to be a rough f***ing ride.”
The University’s recent crack-down on hazing has been the forbidden fruit of conversations around campus this semester. It’s a topic that concerns affiliated and non-affiliated students alike, but it is rarely discussed openly. Columnists and the Editorial Board have written on the issue, but its sensitivity has prevented the type of honest and open dialogue that such an important topic deserves. This is especially true when it comes to students in greek organizations or selective living groups, who stand to lose the most by being candid about hazing and hazing policies. As someone who prides himself on tackling tough issues and saying what other students won’t, even I’ve been afraid to touch this topic for fear of putting myself and my fraternity brothers in jeopardy. But, as this may well be the last article I write for The Chronicle, I might as well go out with a bang. Duke’s hazing policy is downright absurd. Not only is it absurd, it’s so broad that it can be interpreted, and has been interpreted, to include any imaginable component of new member education. Duke University defines hazing as “any action taken or situation created, whether on or off university premises, that is harmful or potentially harmful to an individual’s physical, emotional or psychological well-being, regardless of an individual’s willingness to participate or its bearing on his/her membership status.” Without delving into the complete list of this policy’s flaws, I will highlight the two most egregious.
Generally speaking, I’m not someone whose mood changes with the season. Unless, of course, we happen to be talking about college acceptance season, which is the one month of the year when the graduating seniors from my high school alma mater find me to be the most annoying.
By now, it should surprise no one that I’m not the biggest fan of the new house model. Since I first began writing about the new housing system last semester, I’ve generally been of the opinion that the biggest problem is not the concept itself, but its execution. What started out as a way to promote equality and provide consistency in housing for all students has devolved into a system that hurts affiliated and non-affiliated students alike. By reducing the blocking size, randomly assigning independents to their houses and relegating selective living groups to the least desirable locations, it seems as if the administrators were only trying to make their lives easier. In some strange way, accepting the house model is much less painful if you tell yourself that Joe Gonzales and his cronies must know that what they are doing doesn’t make sense. Sure, it sucks that we’re getting screwed, but at least someone’s job is less stressful, right?
I hate to admit it, but I wasn’t surprised when The Chronicle announced on Monday that the Social Justice House and Latino Cultural House were being disbanded due to lack of interest. For all of the negative consequences of the house model (I’ve previously discussed a great number of them), one positive result is the creation of sorority houses and new selective living groups that allow students a greater variety of options. Unfortunately, there is no guidebook for creating a successful SLG, which begs the question: Which affiliated houses will thrive under the house model?
It’s common knowledge that Duke Dining is not one of the most lauded aspects of this University. Whenever I’m forced to venture into a discussion with one of my friends about our dinner selection, I have to hear about how the dining options at Duke are dismal and that the food at competing universities is superior. Although I certainly think that the caliber of food here—especially at such astronomical prices—could be improved, I’m of the dissenting opinion on this one.
For the next four hours, I am stuck sitting in a room on the second floor of the Marketplace, waiting to accept bids from students deciding to pledge one of the 16 Interfraternity Council (IFC) fraternities as a recruitment assistant for IFC. Thus, it seems only appropriate to pass the time with a little post-rush analysis:
Winter break is a unique period in college; it is the only time when it is perfectly acceptable to do nothing for three weeks. In fact, the most productive thing I did over break was declaring my major, an experience that I found to be more pensive than necessary.
Last year, my final article of the semester was titled “Why I love Duke.” In many ways, it was a very fitting end to freshman year and to a semester’s worth of Chronicling with the blissful naivety that only a first-year student could possess. I went on and on about why Duke was the best place on Earth and why I loved virtually every aspect of this university, often ignoring the abounding flaws in our Gothic Wonderland. This semester, my column has taken a much harsher tone. I’ve criticized the administration at length for their lack of transparency and refusal to seriously consider student input. Not surprisingly, I was condemned for being too negative. Go figure.
University rankings can be a touchy subject for some people. I often hear students arguing about how they are either very important or deeply flawed, but these two opinions are not mutually exclusive. No rankings list is truly exact in terms of accurately “ranking” the “best” universities in the country or the world, because you cannot objectively measure academic perfection. Most rankings are based substantially on academic reputation, which is hardly a foolproof mechanism for determining how a school has improved or declined over the past year. These surveys are subject to personal bias and tend to be a dead-end in self-fulfilling prophesies in which the top schools remain at the top simply because the survey participants have become locked into that mindset. Nevertheless, prospective students and parents look at these rankings and take them into consideration, which makes them undeniably important in some sense.
As part of the Duke bubble, it is refreshing to take a step back to look at the political and market structures of the world and to challenge the beliefs that most Americans hold as fact. This greater picture was introduced to me when I took Sociology 166: Politics and Markets in the Global Economy last Spring with Professor David Brady. The class was interesting and thought provoking and I encourage everyone to take it. Although capitalism might be the American way, Professor Brady’s class made me keenly aware of its imperfections. Capitalism perpetuates inequality and wide income gaps, issues that should concern everyone in our society. I must admit, however, that after a semester of hearing arguments both for and against various market structures, I came to the conclusion that capitalism, when regulated appropriately to counteract its undesirable effects, is better than its alternatives.
Everyone who has known me for more than five minutes will undoubtedly identify at least one fact about me: I’m from California. Not only am I from California, but I’m from San Diego, and I’ll have you know that it has been scientifically proven to be the best place on Earth. My love affair with the state is a big joke with my friends. Regardless of the topic of conversation, I always have to give my take on how we do it in California. This weekend, I learned how we do greek life in California.
