Fall Foresight

Convocation to reveal what's to come

 

Once again, it's time for the Fall Convocation.

And once again, it's time for us, along with faculty and staff, to encourage more student attendance at the Convocation. Thursday's ceremony at Ed Landreth Hall marks Chancellor Ferrari's second State of the University Address since he began in July 1998.

Besides Ferrari's speech, two awards will be presented: the Chancellor's Award for Distinguished Research and Creative Activity and the Wassenich Award for Mentoring in the TCU Community.

At last year's convocation, Ferrari announced his 10 goals for the year. Some of these included his plans to address diversity at TCU, to increase alumni and community support and to develop a mission statement for the university.

These things have all been accomplished throughout the past year. Why not attend the convocation to see what Ferrari has in mind for the next year?

Your presence at this event would not only be a significant statement of support for our chancellor, but you'd be in the know about goings-on within the university community. And if that's not enough, free refreshments and music by the TCU Jazz Ensemble are provided after the convocation. What more could you look for?

When university administrators decided to cancel the 11 a.m. classes, their thinking was probably that attendance at the convocation would increase. This cancellation is not, however, an excuse to go back to your residence hall to catch "All My Children" or to just sleep through your 9:30 a.m. class.

With all the changes that are happening in the university's academic structure, now is the time to be informed of Ferrari's plans for the upcoming school year. Now is the time to know exactly what our chancellor is planning for us.

This is your school. Participate in the important things that happen here, and make an active attempt to understand why these things are happening.


 
 "What?! Our blood alcohol level reached the new .08 aso we're gonna stop drinking??"


 

'Closet Christian' proud of faith

I've never told anybody to trust in the Lord. Well, there was this one time, but I was frustrated, it was getting late and I just wanted to get off the phone.

I never read my Bible in public either. As a matter of fact, I don't even mention God in day-to-day conversation with friends, family or acquaintances. I used to think this was because my belief in God was very personal to me. What I've come to realize, however, is that it isn't so much that my relationship with God is personal, but that I just find it uncomfortable to admit it. Like many others, I walk around harboring a secret that threatens to ostracize me from the rest of the world.

I'm a closet Christian.

As closet Christians, we pray in secret. We read our Bible when we're alone. We stray away from conversations on premarital sex, homosexuality or evolution, in fear that we might expose ourselves.

I wasn't aware of my reluctance to reveal my faith until I made friends with a guy who is very vocal about his Christianity and God's role in his life. As he was talking about God, I found I was unwilling to contribute anything to the conversation. Although I knew he already knew I was a Christian, I couldn't bring myself to let him know any more. I didn't want to talk about scriptures, and I really didn't want to go into what God is in my life. In fact, I felt so uncomfortable that every time he asked me a question about God, I changed the subject.

This discomfort is deeply ingrained in me. I remember it started in junior high school with the big bang theory. I knew in my heart I didn't believe in the bang but there was no way I was putting God down as the answer for how the universe was created. In the end, I figured I'd just go along with my textbook while secretly acknowledging my true beliefs. I've been living secretly ever since.

But serving God isn't forbidden. We are one nation under him, right? So what's the real reason we're afraid to disclose our secret? Well, maybe it's because many people think that if you're a Christian you're boring, intolerant and judgmental. Or could it be that if someone loves the Bulls and wears a Michael Jordan T-shirt they're considered a fan, but if they love God and wear an "I love Jesus" T-shirt, they're considered a fanatic?

These distorted views of Christians, perpetuated by the media, show only one end of the spectrum: obsessed, hermit-like people condemning their neighbors and sacrificing chickens by the light of the moon. What they do not show are regular people with strong, godly convictions enjoying the normal things in life such as playing sports, listening to music and falling in love. This caricature of Christianity leads many people to shun Christians or label them as crazy.

But the fact is, shunning someone because of what or how they believe is intolerant. And blindly assigning labels to someone because they are proud of what they value is judgmental.

Others' intolerance, however, is not a good excuse for hiding one's faith. Faith is supposed to be unshakable, immovable and shameless. If not, it's simply a worthless and expendable belief.

And as for those of us who are still living in the closet, we must understand that we cannot deny his name on earth and expect that he won't deny ours in heaven.

In realizing this, I urge anyone who's hiding to take a step out of the closet. Here's my first step: "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." It's not total redemption. But it's a start.

 

Shavahn Dorris is a junior English major from Joliet, Ill.


New House committee a step in right direction
Council representing campus groups would allow 'ordinary students' to voice their concerns

The House of Student Representatives does not meet until Sept. 14, but Student Government Association President Ben Alexander says he can already feel the clock ticking toward the final hours of his administration.

Most students, especially those who don't keep up with the House, couldn't name something student government has done for them lately.

But for those who care enough to complain, we can do more than sit back and lament what our $40 annual student activity hasn't done for us. SGA is giving students who aren't already involved with student government a chance to tell the House what they want.

SGA is trying to launch its Communications Committee, an advisory committee to the House, which would be comprised of 14 members who represent TCU's nearly 200 campus organizations.

Alexander said the purpose of the committee is two-fold: to increase communication between campus organizations and give more students the opportunity to voice their concerns to House.

A Communications Committee is not a new idea. In 1996, House President Sharon Selby started the President's Council. The council was comprised of organizational presidents representing different categories of co-curricular activities.

The purpose of the new committee may be the same as its predecessor, but the committee's structure and advisory nature set a precedent by putting more of student government in the hands of ordinary students.

In past years, members of the council were appointed by the president, who also presided over the council.

Rick Barnes, director of special projects for Student Affairs, said there wasn't anything wrong with the old council. He said the members felt the House president was the best leader for the council because no one else carried enough "clout or credibility'' with the rest of student government or the administration.

But Alexander has decided to make someone else the chairman of the committee instead of running it himself. In addition, Alexander said the members of the committee will not be hand-picked. Instead, they will go through an application and interview process.

This process will ensure that this committee doesn't become a cliquish appendage to student government like the old council was. Members of the committee will be selected because of their ability and desire to represent several organizations, not because they are friends with the House president.

The committee will also serve as a permanent advisory board to the House. Although its members will not have voting power, they can work with other committees, such as the Permanent Improvements Committee, to write bills that make significant changes on campus.

Students need tangible proof that SGA is solving problems on campus and not simply meeting to talk about them. Alexander has taken the right steps to set up a committee that can offer more manpower to get things done. Now it's up to organizations to put their best voice forward to make things happen.

 

Aimée Courtice is a senior news-editorial journalism major from San Diego, Calif.

You can e-mail her at (aecourtice@delta.is.tcu.edu).


Sophomore frog appreciates leap from tadpole year

Finally I'm back to TCU. Not that I ever left it, considering I spent my whole summer working here. But now I am really back. Back to my classes, friends, schedules and trips to Albertson's at 3:00 a.m. It's a funny feeling to renew my life here at TCU, particularly because now I carry on my back a label different from last year: sophomore.

I don't know if I like it yet; it takes some getting used to. I am starting to feel the advantages of my new position, but also a twitch of nostalgia for my days as a Horned Frog tadpole.

And nostalgia is a powerful feeling. I remember my first wandering steps around campus, carrying a well-hidden, highlighted campus map in the flap of all my binders. I remember wondering why, if my class was supposed to be in room 101, the physical location of the classroom was the second floor of a building. I remember waking up early to eat omelets at The Main, and grabbing strictly one item (and only the ones I really wanted) from each of the tables at the merchant's fair.

I remember attending dinner after dinner, lunch after lunch, where they introduced me to faculty, staff, upperclassmen and fellow freshmen. I remember "The Big Leap" Howdy Week '98 (my Howdy Week), getting T-shirts and the feeling that "nothing I did in my freshman year was going to be a critical mistake for the rest of my life," because it was a period of adjustment.

Those days seem invariably gone, and yet as I walked through the Student Center during Howdy Week '99, the feeling of déjà vu that overcame me was almost creepy. I found myself longing to be a fourth-semester freshman so I could get a Howdy Week shirt and a game day shirt, two month's worth of lunches and dinners and the feeling that all of TCU is here to take care of me.

It's not that I feel completely abandoned now that I am a sophomore. The advantages of my new standing are apparent to me every day. I get the scoop on job openings before freshmen because I know the guy who knows the girl who is no longer going to work at the Information Desk. Internships no longer seem like an unreachable goal, because now I have a whole year of school experience to back up my desire to work without getting paid.

I can grab handfuls of freebies and come back for more, because I am a sophomore, and embarrassment and attention suddenly don't seem all that important when I can get free cups, mugs, T-shirts and TCU goodies. Moreover, I get to register early! I get to select from an unending buffet of classes. Ha, ha, ha. The world is mine.

And yet that feeling of being sheltered during my freshmen year is all but gone. I feel like my mistakes are weighted with a little less indulgence, and my professors' expectations have grown proportionally to my sophomore ego. Suddenly words like "degree plan" and "prerequisites" sound a little scarier. And I find myself reading posters that advertise help for the GRE.

It's a funny feeling, this sophomore thing. Whenever I whine because I am not getting as much attention as the freshmen, my conscience pangs at me and says, "You're a big girl now; you can handle it." It's like having a new baby in the family - except it's not one baby, it's 1,400 babies. I feel responsible for the welfare and happiness of all these baby Horned Frogs, and yet I have this irresistible desire to tell them the registrar's office is located in the basement of the Bass building.

Like everything in life, when I start getting comfortable with this sophomore thing it will be time to change again. In the meantime, I want to give a big round of applause to my fellow class of 2002 for making it through their first year. And remember, you don't have to worry anymore: Frogzilla only eats freshmen.

 

Raquel Torres is a sophomore broadcast journalism major from Cali, Colombia.


 
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