The Giants Super Bowl win was significant for me, but this had nothing to do with the events on field. As a Manhattan native, I’m always glad to see a local team win a title, but this had little to do with my emotional response to a most unlikely championship. I didn’t even realize the implications until the very end, when I was suddenly struck by a somber but triumphant wave of nostalgic memories.
My first conversation with former Dean of Students Jimmy Williams began with a conversation about sports. We were in his office, and I noticed various items of New York sports memorabilia, including the Giants and Jets, our two football teams. I being a Jets fan, and Jimmy a Giants fan, we discussed the merits of the two franchises. I didn’t know Jimmy was a New Yorker until this point, and this friendly conversation created an instant sense of familiarity and camaraderie which was present throughout all my later encounters with Dean Williams, who I came to regarded as my closest friend within the Antioch administration. Jimmy’s recent selection as commencement speaker can be seen as a glorious return to his former community, and the Giants return to the top of professional football provides the perfect metaphor for his return to Antioch College. Continue reading From the Editors – Edward Perkins
Tag: From the Editors
From the Editors – Bryan Utley
I am writing this editorial as a gay man. Before I came to Antioch I worked in politics after my graduation in 2002 from Malcolm Shabazz City High School. At Malcolm Shabazz I had many friends. Most of them loved politics. We all ended up becoming political science majors at Oberlina, Antioch and Hampshire, and Beloit College. My best friends were Timothy Benton, Joy Spear, Sol Kelley Jones, and Mark Rasmussen. I learned tonight that one of my close friends has past away. Timothy Benton died of an overdose of oxy cotton earlier this week. Tim was a fourth year at Beloit College. I remember how wonderful my time with Tim was he was one of the smartest people I knew but he was always depressed because being a bigger gay man in this society, as we all know sucks. He had body image issues that dogged him throughout his whole life. Tim was a beautiful person, smart, funny, and charismatic. Even though he was younger than me he taught me a lot about life. I was an asshole before I met Tim. He sat me down with that voice of his and taught me humility. He taught me that there always was another side to issues. I feel guilty because I could have been there for him but I wasn’t. I imagine him now as I write that he would be laughing that so much energy is going into his death. He would have made somebody extremely happy I am just sad that I didn’t get to say goodbye. Life is tough but you take it in stride. Tim I love you god speed Buddy.
I dedicate this to you Timothy Benton
Your friend
Bryan Utley
From The Editors
By Jeanne Kay
I wish I could celebrate. I wish I could have called Bard College this week thanking them for their patience but telling them that I will never enroll, instead of simply deferring again. I wish I could have sent an email to my friends and family back home that said “The good news is that you’re invited again to my graduation ceremony in 2010. The bad news is, it’s still in Ohio.” I wish I could have let my yellow balloon escape, I wish the bell of main building had rung, I wish I could have gone back to being a normal student. I wish I could have felt relief.
From the Editors
“The dazzling vision and relentless passion of the founders.” One might have thought that the title of Jim Malarkey’s Founder’s Day presentation was slightly hyperbolic. If you attended it, however, that preconception most likely vanished somewhere between Horace’s claim that ”nothing today prevents the world from being a paradise,” and Arthur Morgan’s quest for an “informal utopian community of learning.”
I remember when I was 14 years old and, when asked “what do you want to do when you grow up?” relentlessly answering “change the world.” I also remember losing momentum for the project as I advanced into the disillusioning turpitudes of adolescence. Like many teenagers in quest of identity and purpose, I wondered how to reconcile that yearn for transformative action and the weight of reality that gradually imposed itself on me.
Many educational institutions, observed Malarkey, have the purpose of “meeting market demands” and helping students adapt to society. What about students who do not recognize themselves in the profile of “fit in, slide through, and get away?” he asked. Then there is Antioch. Antioch as a hyphen between what the world is and what the world ought to be.
Antioch, in the time of Horace Mann was indeed a bootcamp, recounted Malarkey, if not for the revolution, for winning victories for humanity; a “cross between Harvard and West Point” where students exercised for two hours every day, academics were rigorous and morals stringent. “A war of extermination [against ignorance, oppression of body and soul, intemperance and bigotry] is to be waged and you are the warriors” was Horace’s message to Antioch graduates.
“This is not just a bachelor’s degree’” exclaimed Malarkey, “This is a War Cry.”
Arthur Morgan in the 1920s perpetuated and added to Mann’s vision. To prepare for the frontlines, you have to find your purpose; Co-op was thus instituted. Gen-Ed courses were brought to the curriculum, based on the idea that learning to know how the world works is not just a preference but a responsibility. Finally the idea that the whole human being thrives only in a healthy community inspired the principles of community governance.
The three legged stool was created.
“Education in America must mean nothing else than this,” declared Malarkey, drawing comparison between the task ahead and the boulder in Glen Helen under which the Morgans are resting together. To be a radical means to get to the roots, deep down to lift the boulder. “And Antioch is the place for that to be done.”
Antioch’s spirit “keeps losing itself and then finding itself,” observed Malarkey yet the “feisty if elusive Antioch spirit of inquiry and action” that characterizes it seems to resiliently survive through generations of Antiochians, regardless of incessant administrative turnovers, gaps in vision and top-down renewal plans.
And no matter how it redefines itself perpetually, Antioch continues attracting students who, like me, once dreamed of changing the world and wondered how to do it. Not only does it draw us in, but most importantly it revives the embers under the ashes, the will to take on that boulder, and the certitude that the potential to lift it is within us—assuming, of course, we get to graduate from Antioch College.
-JK
From The Editors
Genetic Mutations
Last Sunday, I woke up at 9 a.m. to attend the first day of class at McGregor Campus West. When I walked into the building, my first impression was that of walking into a high school. Building sections are indicated by letters, classrooms have exiting names like “Classroom of the Future.” Open areas are broken up with cubicles and Ikea-style furniture, reminiscent of Birch Kitchen post-renovation.