1 week! ... kind of

Here we are, a few hours after ... what would be a week. Due to some concerns voiced by the mama bear and a few professors, I ate dinner Friday night. Regretted it almost immediately; word to the wise, don't eat Chinese on an empty stomach.

"Effective immediately, 9 additional faculty and 1 staff member positions were removed from their respective lists, further reducing the total impacted positions from the original total of 44 to 21 (12 faculty and 9 staff). We also recently received and accepted a letter of resignation from a valued faculty member which is included in this retrenchment," said an email from President Hendricks last Wednesday.

With great pleasure, I would like to announce that the Political Science department has been saved. At least, as far as we know. The list of professors isn't a public file for some reason and I emailed President Hendricks trying to find out why but have yet to hear anything in response. He's a busy man, I understand.

I will be taking $40 to the presidents office tomorrow thanks to those who have purchased their shirts from the first order; Nancy Russomano, Dr. Dettwiler, Aryn Hedrick, Zach Johnson, Kalen Honeyfield, Bryan Mahosky, Kelly Raleigh, and Sarah Mirabile. Anyone who is interested in a SAVE THE PROFS t-shirt, write names and sizes on the Facebook page listed below. They are $5 and the funds will go to scholarships for students.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/532727073469451/

"What they did not want you to ever find out is that your generation, the generation born between 1980-1995, actually outnumbers the Baby Boomers. They knew that if you ever turned your eye towards political reform, you could change the world. They tried to keep you sated on vapid television shows and vapid music. They cut off your education and fed you brain candy. [...] We as a society are only as strong as our weakest link. Give 'em hell, kids."

Flashlight newspaper

Well, guys, it's day 4 of the hunger strike and going much better (healthwise) than I imagined. The story was published in this weeks Flashlight, which is Mansfield University's newspaper, written by Bryan Mahosky.

Every day my tummy grumbles a bit more and more but it's worth it and brings me happiness knowing that I'm standing up for what I believe in. It also comforts me that, as the process continues to progress, I'm reminded that I'm not alone in the fight as many students and faculty have commented positively (and a little worried) on the hunger strike.

In my previous post there is an explanation of why I'm doing this if you have yet to read it and I'm going to post below in this post the Flashlight article.

Electronic Media student protests retrenchments

By BRYAN MAHOSKY

Editor-in-Chief

Mansfield University student Chelsea Simmers, 23, started a hunger strike to protest the retrenchment issue the university is facing.

     Simmers began her hunger strike on the morning of Monday, Nov. 18. "My last meal was a sausage bagel at 11 p.m. on Sunday," she said.

     "I tried to think of the most drastic thing I could do," Simmers said. "At this point it has to be drastic. I'm looking for acknowledgment - not pity or money - just recognition that [the retrenchments] are going on."

     Simmers has been active in other events to support the professors and programs that are in jeopardy. She has made newscasts, travelled to Harrisburg to lobby legislatures with 83 other Mounties, rallied outside of Straughn when the chancellor arrived, and is selling t-shirts to raise money for scholarships via a Facebook page.

     "The shirts are being put off until next semester due to everyone having tough schedules at the end of the semester," Simmers said. The shirts cost $5 to be made, and student Matthew Dishler donated the amount for the first batch of 25 shirts. Simmers is selling them to the university community for $5 each, and has sold about 25 to 30 so far.

     "We're working out a deal to buy them in bulk for $2 a shirt, so we'd get $3 per purchase towards scholarships." To learn more, visit the open Facebook group titled "SAVE THE PROFS." There are currently 314 members in the group.

     "When I visited Harrisburg, I got this feeling that no one really cared," Simmers said. "Yes - [the legislatures] sympathized with us, but I learned we're really on our own."

     Simmers said she was disappointed and lost hope after not only the trip to Harrisburg, but after the chancellor's visit as well. During his visit, the chancellor simply tried to save face for the duration of his speech, and then gave roundabout answers, while concurrently attacking students, during the public Q&A, according to Simmers.

     "I feel abandoned," Simmers said. "It shouldn't be this way and wouldn't be this way if people knew about the issue."

     "Our legislatures and higher-ups are supposed to support us - that's why we elect them. They aren't for us at all," she said. "I'm an avid voter which is why it pisses me off."

     Simmers plans to do this "however long it takes." Her ultimate goal is to have more attention brought to the issue, and for the government officials to say "you're not alone and we're here to help," even if it's not necessarily financial help.

     Simmers is now living off of a concoction that consists of water, maple syrup, lemon juice, and cayenne pepper. This is commonly used for fasting to give people the protein without having to eat, she said.

     "I will be keeping track of my progress on my blog with weekly updates," Simmers said. Her blog, "As Good as it Gets," can be found at shanesimmers25.blogspot.com.

     The hardest part for Simmers will be giving up food. "I love food. I'm worried about not eating," she said. "I've never fasted before so it will be a challenge, but it's something that I care enough about that I'm not backing down."

notice of my personal protest

Disclosure to start off;
To those of you who make it to the end, I have two things to say; 
1, I applaud you. 
2, Don't worry, I won't be passing out in classes. I'm researching the healthiest way to attempt this protest

When I see the education systems failing, I instantly see the world collapsing around us. But it's almost as though there's a cover over the ground so you can't see it happen until you're falling through the cracks. Education is an art; it's something that is rarely similar and largely personality.

I transferred to Mansfield University in the Fall of 2012 from the Art Institute in Nashville, Tennessee and I couldn't have been more proud, excited, or pleased with my decision to do so. Not only have the professors and other staff made this past year and a half one of the most life changing experiences, but the students that I have been graced in knowing give me hope for the future. As a communication department, we truly are a family. Even as a state school in general, we are a family and have been standing together the best we can when it comes to the better of our education, professors, and future as a whole. But our legs and minds are growing weary.

I want to introduce you to my department; Communications at Mansfield University. I haven't yet had the privilege of being taught by all of the professors in my department but the ones whom I have worked with, have helped me grow into the person I am today. Chuck Hoy is heavily involved in campus organizations and is widely recognized and well received by students of all majors. He's the professor who will come into an 6:30 night class dancing and singing in front of nearly 80 students with pure enthusiasm just to try to wake us up. Dan Mason's passion for his field in journalism gives hope to students who know it's a medium in our industry that is falling fast but is still a vital organ of an informed and aware society. Gary McIntyre has a way of making the radio and sales exciting even if someone, like me, thought they'd never want to work in that division of the industry. His dry humor and willingness to laugh at himself make him the quintessential grandfather of our department. Leroy Wright has a simplistic and connected way of teaching even the most difficult classes of our department so that each student can break it down to its simplest form and truly understand the subject. He was also on the board of directors when I was up for academic probation in the Spring of 2013 and since has restored hope in myself that I lost sight of.

Last but definitely not least; I have a certain heartstring pulled when it comes to James Lohrey, who is currently on the retrenchment list. When I first came here he wasn't a professor that stood out to me even despite the fact that he was my advisor. I hadn't had many classes with him until the spring semester and, with my lack of motivation at the time, accompanied by the fact that he isn't the type of professor to go out of his way for someone if he doesn't see effort on the receiving end as well, I didn't find my defining moment with him until the end of the semester.

Like a teenager with their parents, I convinced myself that my professors had failed me. In the midst of the emotional cycle, I had even been contemplating a change of major. Communication and media have been subjects that I've loved since high school and last semester was a moment of not remembering why I fell in love with them in the first place; to institute change.

I'm not longer a teenager so shortly after my emotions subsided over the devastation of the semester, I came to terms with the fact that I had been the one who had stopped trying. Lohrey sent me an email not long after I had started voicing my com major questioning that restored so much for me in myself. It was simple and short yet powerful in time and context. I took a screen shot of it and held it as my background for a while, reminding myself it wasn't too late to turn things around, that this was something I loved and it deserves every ounce of my respect and effort.

I was a catalyst of a piece of that same change I thought media was meant to trigger. Proving to myself this semester that communication can make a difference. I held onto that hope on October 16th when I walked up the steps onto the bus at 6am to travel with fellow students and professors to our state capitol, Harrisburg. We were notified early on in the semester of the budget deficit we're facing but the looming monster in our closets seems to continue to grow as each day passes with no sign of help anywhere.

We were going to lobby with Senators and House Representatives and later hold a press conference in which different legislatures and a student from Mansfield were to speak at on behalf of the issues that the PASSHE system is facing. Following the conference, the Mansfield choir sang five songs that expressed a different measure of importance to our pleas for help. I spoke with Senator Gordner and Representative Tim Hennessey who both pretty much told us that, yes, they sympathize but what are they supposed to do about it? "Your school wants funding? Well, people in hell want ice water," said Hennessey. He was also quoted to saying that "It doesn't matter if John Smith or Jane Doe teaches the class," when asked if he had ever had a specific teacher who influenced him. I am here to say, first off, that is your job to help support education and, second off, I beg to differ and am living proof. If that wasn't degrading enough to experience, we later came to learn that the "press conference", in all actuality, had no news coverage attendance.

We trudged back onto the buses at the end of the day feeling drained and defeated, wondering if we should have just gone to classes instead.

I edited the footage from the day in Harrisburg, posted it online and was even more devastated at the less than 10 views all three videos combined have received since. Dropping back into the shadows of the issue for a while to focus on classes, I festered over what might help Mansfield and other PASSHE schools. Not too long into thought, Chancellor Brogan was announced to be attending the University to talk about the issues at hand and I was back out filming a video to inform everyone of the upcoming event and chance to speak our minds and maybe make some progress. Apparently when Chancellor Brogan comes to town, though, progress means him talking about his family and the weather for 45 minutes of the hour that he was there for and transitioning to his efforts in Florida with an ending of "answering" only 3-4 questions. Defeated, once again. Why we thought it would be an open dialogue to actually express our thoughts, I'm not sure. Why we thought he would come with a message of hope, I'm not sure.

Since then, I have again fallen back into the shadows of the deficit and focused everything on classes. In doing so, I'm reminded of the pain I feel when I think about the professors who will no longer be here in semesters to come. That I will have to change my advisor when I lose the one I have. That class sizes are only going to get bigger and less interactive which is heavily relied upon in the communications department. That tuition will continue to rise and college, too, will soon be a big ballers game only. That my department will never be the same. That this University will never be the same. That we aren't the only ones starting to fall through the cracks of this educational earthquake. Education will never be the same.

Hope is given by these professors in their encouragement even in the most trying of times. When we don't believe in ourselves, our professors are there to help remind us why we love what we do, whatever it is, and that we can change the world if we try and work together. Each professor is a vital source of our, if you will, educational protein.

So through this hope and this deprivation of vital nutrients, I am announcing the beginning of my educational awareness fast that will begin Monday, November 18th. I will continue on with my days, go to classes, complete my final projects, achieve the grades I know I can attain and do so in the company of the people who inspire me every day. Do not receive this as a threat. I hold no ransom. We do, however, deserve proactive solutions and we shouldn't have to stand alone in doing so. We deserve recognition of this devastating time that we're in, as we grow thinner every day.

This hunger strike is a demonstration of each professor on this campus, other campuses, and teachers in the k-12 districts who have either already lost their jobs or are currently facing the possibility of retrenchment. This protest is to you, our elected officials, who are supposed to help create an education that will help better the future. You, who we elect in hopes of representation of the things that we think matter most. This is a giant yellow highlighter on the fact that you are failing us and leaving us to fight this alone. This is awareness.

A wise person once said, "If you're not pissed off, you're not paying attention."

~~~

I wrote this on Friday November 15th, posted it to my Facebook wall, and sent it out to countless newspapers and news stations. I also sent a short address to the President via the government webpage. If it will reach his eyes, I'm not sure and decently doubtful. I have yet to receive any form of response via email from the others I've contacted which, again, doesn't much surprise me. It's early on in the process so I should hold to my patience. I suppose it's my emotional tie to the issue that makes me prone to feeling the needles I'm sitting on. The needles we're all sitting on, even if we don't notice them right now. Time is anything but what we have. It seems as the semester is already almost at a close and we've barely scratched the surface since everything was announced to the public. 

I went out to Walmart yesterday with a couple friends to accompany. The goal was lemon juice, pure maple syrup, cayenne pepper, and socks. Granted, the socks were a last minute realization of need. Measuring, mixing, pouring, and filling the fridge with 14 water bottles of the protein drink I discovered while researching the healthiest way to approach the fast. Again, the socks are for my feet, not the mixing process. *pee yew* Ask my roommate about it, she understands. Although, thinking about it, I probably should have picked up measuring spoons while I was at it. And toilet paper. Don't judge us, we're busy, successful, free-thinking college kids.

So day one is tomorrow and I'm up far too early for my own good. So I'm off again, back to the sack. Hopefully I'll beat the sun.

this hope

If I could, I would raise you to admire the strength of lonely.

There was a person I used to be.

Someone who loved with every pore exposed.

I found the shore of despair and, in it,

the island of overcoming.

If I could, I'd teach you the simplistic treasures

and that everything comes in its own time.

I wanted to race

but I could never remember where the finish point was.

All the lines blurred

so I ran faster.

The wall that built me

turned me into a pile of rubble.

My pace slowed 

and I realized something;

even in the cause of loneliness, 

there is a silent strength

that will hopefully one day pave the road

to a better truth.

It is this hope.

don't be afraid ...

to follow the discourse.

You've really only got two options here. You're going to fail miserably or have the best time of your life. Are you willing to risk the fear of something bad for the possibility of something good? Every moment in life is based on yes and no answers. Imagine you're sitting at a stop sign, gripping the leather beneath your palms; looking left, right, left ... then right, then straight, then back to left. Sometimes you'll have 3 different ways to go, sometimes 4 or 5 even. Then sometimes you come to a dead end and have to turn around. Which way is going to take you to the other side? And maybe all of them will lead to the other side, but the view will simply be different.

Have you ever looked back on your life and thought, "I'm ok with the mistakes I've made. I can handle the cuts and bruises because each one of them is a testament as to the fact that I'm still here. And each has their own story and lesson." You didn't get on a bike and know how to ride it right away. You had training wheels and the wind in your face, then your dad's encouraging assistance and a wobbling front tire, and finally, you reach the point when you never forget how to do it on your own.

I look at the people I've encountered at different points in my life and wish it hadn't been only a learning experience; that I wish my mistakes and theirs didn't mean the end all be all but how else would we learn? Every path has a different outlook and outcome; it's better that way. It's a constant battle of wanting to move forward to further yourself and falling back to what you already learned from. 

No, you're not always going to understand the reasoning behind the madness of your own decisions but you're always going to come out with a new perspective. Life is about experience, about learning by doing both the good and the bad things. 

"A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool."

one day to empty your head

A lot has happened this past semester. I feel as though I use that phrase a lot when I write; "a lot has happened." I guess it is true that life doesn't stop moving. Constantly growing, changing, learning, and loving every minute of it. As a very smart fortune cookie once told me, "Be optimistic. There isn't much use being anything else."

She moved here and it was beautiful while tragic. Love is always an adventure and takes us down many different paths of life.

Mustache party, braiding Say-zar's hair to get that perfect 80's hair metal look, decorating cookies into astronauts, carrots in the ceiling, my acceptance letter as a Resident Assistant.

Snakes on the path, celebrations, four wheeling adventures, graffiti to change the world, star gazing during a meteor shower, ridiculous signs at the church and embroidery shop, learning the two step to country music.

Birthdays, painted faces, superhero impersonations, compliments, rejections. Adventures before, during, and after formal. "We're going to gangnam!"

Sleep, no sleep, stress of final projects, a duck by the elevator, concerts, mexican hats, pictures while you make a toilet, playgrounds, hospital, fights, kisses, eleven, cigarette breaks, helping Mike back to his bed from the back parking lot, deep and meaningful conversations (at least in the moment), narwhals, premium quality, and graduation.

I wouldn't trade it for anything. I'm on a continually changing path, sometimes back and forth a few times before the real forward thrust.

If a movie is a pleasure to the eye, it did its job for the ratings. If a movie is a pleasure to the emotions, it did its job for the heart. I lost my way a bit this past semester. Without my friends and mentors I probably wouldn't be as confident to move forward as I am right now. Sometimes you get knocked down and it's a hell of a fight to get back up every once in a while but it is more worth the effort than I think I could put into words. I will keep my head held high and expect nothing but my best, whatever that is. Because that is enough for me. If I know that I've worked hard, even if I don't get the results I wanted, the only person I truly need to succeed is me. The only person I truly need to be proud of me is the person I see in the mirror.

Elephants are beautiful, majestic. The most great of all animals. They are Gods. They have many things to thank the creator for, no? We go further and further into space; no life. And we, as the most intelligent, the fortunate, have the audacity to question. I've seen elephants cry but do they pray? Don't worry, it's not a question to answer but to think about. Sometimes the journey is more important than the destination.

in my minds eye

 

British literature accompanies you tonight. Thoughts of the victorian era, Jane Austen, and your greasy hair.

Dirty hands, stained blue for 3 days with fan art. A cracked guitar and a leaf are your weapons of mass illusion. Despite my childish pout, you're hiding some more kindergarten expressions with ivy league ideas. Ideas you call to, preach to, plea to.

Your absence is a dark cave I haven't crawled from in days. Waiting for you to throw a rope, fashion a ladder, open your barred words to the light.






Food is scarce in such a dreary place, though gardens surround my blind eye for miles.