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.
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