Lynch also emphasized the fact that Claiming Williams is only the beginning, only a catalyst for discussion on campus. “I think the College has made a lot of strides to institutionally change this place, but I think the culture has not yet changed,” Lynch said. “We’re not attempting to be a panacea for this community. Claiming Williams has not made allies out of everybody,” she said, adding that part of change is up to the individual.
Growing socioeconomic diversity contributes to subtle inequalities - By Yue-Yi Hwa and Matthew Piltch
When the Record spoke to a number of students about their individual experiences with class on campus, most agreed that socioeconomic status is not obtrusive in the College’s rural, self-contained campus. However, many said that it is visible in “little things”: vacation plans, work study, purchasing textbooks, possessions in dorm rooms and choices about eating out at restaurants. “You’re not always conscious of it,” said Mike Nelson ’12. “But something’ll happen and you’ll think: This person has a lot more money than I do.”
Passive activism - By Mariah Clegg '12
However, the members of these groups and other potential activists on campus are held back by two forces: the will of the apathetic who do whatever suits their shallow self-interest and the persuasion of postmodern thought, which holds that all ideas are relative and should be honored without scrutiny. These two impediments cripple the young activists’ will to make change.
While postmodern relativism and apathy are not novel to our generation, they do appear to be our zeitgeist. One could almost construe that activism has been reduced to this: refusing to take a stance for fear of ostracizing others and of being wrong, and appeasing the masses with convenient protests that do not tax the mind, the soul or the heart. We give everyone a pat on the back for having good intentions, regardless of whether or not they follow through. Look at the recent BSU sit-in. It suggested that we commemorate past activists by holding a sit-in in which every individual considers his or her own issue, silently, without trying create dialogue with anyone else. We’re supposed to feel proud of ourselves for such minimal acts.
Prying into privileged places, secret spaces - By Heath Goldman
Once Narver and Lauber found the elusive entrances, they had to perform a series of gymnastics to actually enter. “I would use some combination of keys, credit cards and butter knives to pull back the latches,” Lauber said. One of the main entrances was right under the nose of security in the basement of Hopkins Hall. “You had to tiptoe past the old retired police officer sitting on his chair asleep. No fancy glassed-in security station back then,” Lauber said. “There was a hole in the ground and you climbed down a ladder that took you right into the steam tunnels.” According to Lauber, they used their privileged knowledge for nighttime revelry: “A party would end late, and we’d be like, who wants to go skinny-dipping?”
According to Pete Haig, foreman of Facilities’ mechanical trades shop, the real-deal, licensed men who enter the tunnels nowadays to do things like turn on the steam in late September must take many safety precautions before entering. “You have to take out a permit, have someone stand in a tunnel entrance with a break in radio and wear a monitor so you can keep track of oxygen and carbon monoxide levels,” Haig said. Nonetheless, he admitted that the tunnels are pretty cool. “You can walk from the heating plant to Greylock dining in one direction, to the CDE in another direction, to Poker flats in another and to Sawyer library in still another. That’s sure a darn long way underground.”
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