NO WHINING Students should bring real-world perspective to bear on campus life BY MANDY TERC '99
When I was younger and would whine about not getting my way, my dad would look at me sternly and say, "You better keep it in perspective." At age nine, I disliked my dad for those unsympathetic words. At age 20, I wish I could keep him here at school with me, just so he could periodically reiterate that warning from my childhood. At this university, students balance their time and interest between two vastly different realms: the world of Princeton and the world in which everyone else lives. We've also developed two different perspectives, one for each world. On the campus, we students don't always display our most admirable and socially concerned sides. While scrambling to carve out some notoriety for ourselves, we forget our responsibility to anyone but ourselves. Instead, we fight an administration ban on halogen lamps that can cause fires and gripe about an alcohol policy that actually complies with the law. Rather than discussing social issues with of real consequence, we talk about who's dating whom and who was hosed from which eating club.
Understandably, students -- like a lot of other people -- will always concern themselves with their own problems, which may not have universal importance. However, a student body that could laugh at itself and its "misfortune" is an interesting concept. As much as we worry about our Princeton-world problems, we find perspective on the big world comparatively easily. We know we're at an advantage there. We know it's up to us to lead -- to create, shape, and improve that world. So we take classes like "Urban Politics" and "Introduction to Population Problems" to help us understand what's out there. In our spare time, we take SVC cars to Trenton, where we see and try to fight those problems first-hand. Our good fortune hasn't prevented us from engaging with the big world; we successfully keep that part of our lives in perspective. The discrepancy between our petty complaints with Princeton and our larger interest in more important problems is apparent. For some students, their experiences outside of Princeton are too powerful to ignore. REAL WORLD INSPIRATION Inspired by her Project 55 summer internship at a non-profit, welfare-to-work program, Mary Jo Valentino '99 returned to Princeton this fall determined to make sure her life here reflected what she'd experienced over the summer. First, she switched her major from English to Politics. Next, she changed her extracurricular activities, so that they coincided with her interest in public service. "I became sensitive to new issues," Valentino said. "It really put the semester into perspective. I wanted to do more volunteer work. At my job, I saw how actual policy decisions and technicalities were enacted -- it came down to me. It made me want to understand contemporary urban issues." Programs exist on campus that attempt to bridge the gap between students' academic concerns and those of their daily lives. The most notable is Urban Action (UA), a freshman-week program run by the Student Volunteers Council (SVC), which combines intense community service with meditation, discussion, and reflection on the issues that participants have faced during the week. This year's co-coordinator John Collins '99 noticed a difference in the way the program's participants approached their daily lives at Princeton after their experience with UA. He thinks it's a direct result of his program, which specifically works to effect change on a day-to-day basis: "Instead of trying to learn things for their own sake, students are now realizing that they are learning it for the sake of the community and the world," said Collins. "They see the relevance of the things they learn to the community as a whole. It breathes new life into their studies." Maybe Princeton students aren't incapable of merging to the two worlds. Maybe they'd even welcome a similar intersection of the two worlds on a more regular basis. At the least, Valentino's changes and the success of UA prove perspective isn't something Princeton students don't want and can't attain. Sometimes, they even search for it. Without a reminder, college students find it hard to get perspective, and harder to keep it, as I myself can attest. That reminder might come from a concerned parent or a university program; better yet, it might come from someone's experiences out in "the real world." In the time than it takes to walk out to Prospect Street, students can drive to a neighborhood where getting a beer or keeping a halogen lamp in their room regains its proper proportion. We should all probably do that more often.

---

To: Princeton Freshmen Re: Proper Princetonian Pomposity BY WES TOOKE '98 Greetings. It has come to our attention at the deans' office that many freshmen are writing lucid papers and speaking coherently in precept. This situation is unacceptable. For your edification, we have written the following memo which you should consider an addendum to Rights, Rules and Responsibilities.
In the beginning, the goal of language was communication, and mankind spoke in short, well-balanced sentences. Fortunately, several brave men saw the folly in this and created the first university. Today, your only hope in advancing in either the academic or business world is by learning the difficult arts of unclear writing and complex speech. In this memo, with the aid of the Department of Philosophy and many members of the Woodrow Wilson School, we have compiled a few suggestions on how to make your words have that authoritative university ring.
All discussions of complexity and verbosity at Princeton start with writing. Whether it be your thesis, or a two-page paper on Freud, remember that great writing ought to be read three times before it can be understood. For inspiration seek out Congressional Reports or assembly manuals for children's toys. Furthermore, any sentence written for a paper at Princeton that has fewer than three commas or is shorter than 20 words better be a title. Also remember that a lucid argument is the product of a feeble mind. If you decide to construct an outline for your paper, make sure it looks like a blueprint for the Starship Enterprise. Learn to cultivate phrases like: "Thus, since the assertion holds in its converse" and "In sum, therefore, as the substantiation in this case flows to my thesis, the hypothesis holds." With hard work and practice, your essays can be as intelligible as a passage of Sanskrit. Here at Princeton we have provided precepts as another opportunity to flaunt your language skills. The first 30 minutes of the average precept is the game-show section during which eager students who have actually done the reading answer Jeopardy-like questions. Do not answer these questions; they are beneath you. Instead, wait for the grand moment of precept fusion when the preceptor asks The Question of the Day. This is your time. As a public service, we are providing the following sample speech: "I don't mean to contradict anyone (smile for your own amusement), but I derived something slightly different from the reading. In my opinion, the professor made an extremely illuminating point in lecture when he noted (professors never say something, they note it) that the study of (insert course name) is really about (insert the word you remember hearing in lecture when someone sneezed and woke you up). Frankly, I find this whole archetype of analysis presents a false dichotomy between two inherently facsimile conceptions." How has this little speech helped you? First, the preceptor now knows you were in lecture that week. Since most preceptors have nightmares about showing up at lecture and being the only people there, this is of immense benefit. Second, since no one has any idea what the hell your last sentence meant, no one can contradict you. In all likelihood, the precept will sit in a kind of stunned silence. Unless your preceptor is extremely clever, he might mistake the silence as awe at your spectacular intelligence--which you might confirm by a well-timed stroke of your chin. This skill, if properly mastered, should someday help you immeasurably in the business world. Finally, with proper practice, everyday conversation can be as cluttered and complex as great writing. Remember, don't say something simply and clearly lest the world think you are a fool. Learn to introduce words like vacillate and enigma into your lexicon. If you manage to use one of these words in everyday conversation and you get a blank stare, warmly congratulate yourself. You are on the track to tenure. Formal speeches are no exception to these principles. Follow the lead of administration officials and class officers and learn how to obscure any point you make in a smoke screen of meaningless words. For practice, try taking famous quotes and rewriting them to be suitable for someone of your education. Take, for example, President Kennedy's famous line, "Ask not what your country can do for you . . . " Think if the President had received the benefit of a Princeton, rather than Harvard, education, and rewrite a more suitable sentence. One interpretation might read: "One should not be so much in the habit of demanding, per se, from the nation or geopolitical entity of one's particular origin, what that conglomeration of peoples under one central government can provide in the way of sustenance or material compensation . . . " Whether it be in writing or speech, remember always that education is all about appearances. Vague writing and big words can always help conceal shoddy thinking, while clarity and simplicity bare your soul to all readers. In the academic world, that's the most frightening thought of all.