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Western Carolinian 1981 Fall Special Edition

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Item’s are ‘child’ level descriptions to ‘parent’ objects, (e.g. one page of a whole book).

  • Supermarket U.? by Sidney B. Simon Ed. Note: Sidney B. Simon is Professor of Education, University of Massachusetts, Amherst. An awful lot of universities are supermarkets. Some of them even look like shopping centers. Take off the weekly specials from the windows of your local A&P and it comes up Old Memorial Hall. Try to picture it for what it is. The students are the customers and the professors are the friendly clerks who put the merchandise on the shelves for student consumption. The bursar runs the check-out counter. Deans are the managers of the produce, meat, and delicatessen departments. Picture the freshman. He comes to the university or supermarket and wanders up and down the aisles. Robot arms throw 16 credits of required nourishment into his shopping cart. The frosh doesn't pick. He gets handed the package deal, the "groceries of the semester" selection. They go by different names: basic studies, general curriculum, or core requirements. Without sensing that something is wrong, the frosh goes dutifully to the check out counter and waits, and waits, and waits. Sometimes, if registration is badly handled, he may wait all day, just to get an advisor's signature. The freshman gets comfort from knowing that his selections have been judged nutritionally sound and that thousands of other students just like him have consumed them, thus assuring one and all that no one has ever had or will have it better than anyone else. This is called maintaining standards. On closer examination, the freshman notices that none of the cans, jars, bottles, or packages in his shopping cart have labels on them. There are no weights or measures given, no designations of quality. One of the strangest things about the university as a supermarket is that the goods it sells aren't graded, only the customers are. There are some other strange things the frosh soon learns about his supermarket. The unlabeled containers in his cart give no hint of the ingredients of the product, how to cook it, how to store it, and whether or not it was packed with harmful preservatives. He will be sure of some things, however. Each package will earn three credits, will meet for 15 weeks, and will inculde a final exam. Each will be taught by some struggling graduate assistant wearily working on his own degree in the hope that some day, he, too', can quit pushing a shopping cart and be elevated to the job of clerk, stacking merchandise for students to eat. The teaching assistant at the supermarket dreams of the day when his name will appear in the college catalogue, when someday he may get tenure and later, if he is ambitious be promoted to the post of Dean of Parking. Back to our freshman. He is troubled by yet another thing. His cart is filled with the same number and size of Jay Gee's Craft Supplies Cross Stitch Decoupage Art Supplies Macrame Many more crafts {jay Gee's Welcomes WCU studentsi I I I 15% off any purchase with coupon! Good through August 31st i ! and student I.D. I I 47 E Main Street, Sylva ■686-6659 containers as are the carts of all the other freshmen. But although the cans all look the same, there is a great variety among their contents. Some frosh find that the learnings inside are outdated, dried up, stale, and occasionally half-baked. It is deceptive packaging carried to an academic extreme. The upperclassmen have it a lot better at the university supermarket. The aisles they are permitted to push their shopping carts down are stacked with containers that do have labels. Sometimes these picture the smiling professor and a listing of his degrees, publications, and memberships in learned organizations. Unfortunately, the longer the list, the more apt he is to be off on a research leave or down in Washington consulting for the Pentagon. His substitute is likely to be the same struggling graduate assistant the frosh met first semester, still trying to get his degree. Upperclassmen find some other information missing from the labels on their course containers. Even in the small print it is hard to find out how serious the prof is about attendance, or how many snap quizzes he might pull, or whether or not the student really has to read the books on the syllabus-or even whether or not the prof himself has read the books. However, the customers have ways of getting and spreading this kind of information- the same kind of system-sabotaging ethics that allow you to sort through the the jars of instant coffee hoping one will still be stamped with the old sale price. One startling difference between the university and the real supermarket is that the U. does not have a complaint department. The manager of the regular supermarket will listen to you and trade you another plastic-wrapped package of meat if you get a spoiled one, but don't look for any money-back guarantees at the U. The best you can hope for is to fill out a drop/add card, try to locate your advisor to sign it, pay the $5 fee, and take your chances all over again. The U. as a supermarket has another strange habit. It has these strange things called grades, marks, cumulative averages, dean's lists, probation, and flunk out. If you don't make the grades, they throw you the hell out of the store. It's one of the strangest ways of handling customers any mercantile effort has ever tried, but they get away with it. One of the side effects of this grading system is that there is tremendous mutual mistrust between the customers of the university and its employees. Increasingly, shoppers and clerks find themselves in two very suspicious armed camps. The employees become very edgy when a customer walks up and asks a seemingly innocent question like "Where do you keep the pickled herring?". There is always the suspicion of apple-polishing and getting overfamiliar, which the clerks have been told tend to reduce objectivity. So the employees fight back by resorting to the weapons of true and false questions, fill in, cross outs, matchings, and patently unobjective essay questions. The customers include among their munitions the crib sheet, the plagiarized term paper, the signals between the confederates (one finger on the side of the ear for "true" and two fingers on the side of the nose for "false"). Under these conditions, shopping at the Super U. becomes more of a chore and more of a bore. What used to be friendly relations between customer and clerk have vanished. What used to be the adventure of roaming the academic aisles looking for delicacies and giving in to the impulse purchase of a course on the Restoration Poets or Rituals of Gregorian Chanting is a thing of the past at Super U. The customers are like little stockbrokers who must balance their portfolios for optimum return of profits. There's not much fun in it. But why do the customers keep coming back to this supermarket? Why do they settle for so little control over what they buy? Why do they tolerate such shoddy merchandise? Why does the supermarket so control the lives of its customers? The customers suffer it all because the supermarket gives them green stamps. Yes, it is the green stamps. The green stamps that each student collects each semester and glues faithfully into his stamp book, which Super U. euphemistically refers to as a transcript. Because of the green stamps the students consume almost any kind of nonsense or boredom that is passed off as merchandise. The clerks may have nothing to give, but the customers accept it as long as the clerks deliver the green stamps at the end of the semester. We could ask the customer to push carts without wheels and they would do it, so long as they get their green stamps. The customers focus on the green stamps. They literally live or die for the number they get. After one long and ardous shopping tour after another, they finally get enough green stamps, eight semester's worth. Then, with sweaty stamp book in hand, they go to that most important spot on campus, the green stamp redemption center. The center is open only twice a year, in January and June. It gives out only one premium. You can't get an electric can opener or an automatic camera. The stamps are good for only one thing. If you have the right numbed and the right size, of green stamps, the supermarket will redeem those stamps for its most sought afer gift-its only gift-the credential. The credential is what explains it all, what guarantees that the system will probably never die. Changes may come from certain tinkering, but the university will continue to be a supermarket until it does away with the green stamps and the mindless pursuit of credentials. This won't happen until the students realize, deep in their guts, that they are the customers of the university and% like in normal stores, they have needs, privileges, and the right to be cared for. Students must come to see that the university cannot exist without them. Someday they will stop allowing themselves to be bribed with green stamps. Someday they will stop licking their green stamps and stand up like free men. That day will be the beginning of the end of the supermarkets that now call themselves universities. Waynesville Hendersonville Spruce Pine Walhalla, S.C. DOWNTOWN SYLVA Final Summer Close-Out Sale! Dresses, suits, pants, skirts, blazers, blouses, T-Shirts, shorts, and all remaining Summer Merchandise is reduced to give away prices with no exceptions- Reg. 3.96 to 80.00 Final Summer give away prices 1.00 to 20.00 All your favorite jeans by: Calvin Klein Reg. 44.00 Sale 28.90 Bill Blass Reg. 42.00 Sale 28.90 Chic by H.I.S. Reg. 30.00 Sale 21.90 Lee Reg. 29.00 Sale 20.90 5-pocket Corduroy pants up to 20.00 Now 10.99 to 14.90 Jackets in all styles including New 3 quarter length stadium coat 44.99 & 48.99 All the new fall styles can be found at the Closet at discount prices Welcome Back WCU Students! Fall Special Edition 3
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Object’s are ‘parent’ level descriptions to ‘children’ items, (e.g. a book with pages).