Strength from Struggle and Sweat: Reflections on a Tough Semester
There was a certain foggy profundity in reflecting upon last semester. Many things happened, and many times we as students, along with other members of our community, were disillusioned of the foundational integrity of our school. Traces of that likely still remain. But in light of all this disillusion, that certain profundity becomes more clear.
We all would like to forget the events and happenings of last fall, or rather, turn back the hand of seasons and make all things well again. We may be tempted to think this possible,
and embrace this fresh semester as a chance to start all over again. In the shelter of four years’ time in this mostly forgiving college atmosphere, we like to think that time goes on in neatly designated units we call days, with each day having its own events, and each event having consequences that remain contained, more or less, to no more than the space of two or three days. In even the bleakest of circumstances, when the trouble of days becomes the trouble of weeks and months, we are often able to seek gentle refuge in the constant cycle of our largest units of time, what we call semesters. This seems perfectly logical, and in the broadest sense there could be a level of truth in its wholesomeness. The progression of time in neatly packaged units presents a regular schedule of new opportunities
to reassess past situations and look at old problems under new lights. But I believe that there’s a deeper insight that exists as well.
However, in the greater reality that is life outside the safety of a four-year college, the history of one unit is rarely limited to that one unit alone. An apt example can be pulled from the recent change in our nation’s presidency. Many Americans are excited to finally be through with the Bush era, and are eager to begin a new time of economic and political paradise under President Barack Obama. But as the President stated in his Inaugural Address, “That we are in the midst of crisis is now well understood. Our nation is at war…Our economy is badly weakened… Homes have been lost, jobs shed, businesses shuttered…”
Although debate always lingers as to the true factors behind events, it remains
clear that, for better or for worse, the events of each Presidency affect every later Presidency as well. Time does not stop and restart with each revolution of the earth, or term of office, or term of class, and the consequences of actions are never purely transient.
The events of last semester may no longer be an immediate plague to the general well-being of our college, but we will surely deal with their effects for yet a long time. Throughout this issue my Phoenix colleagues have, I believe, eloquently enumerated the extent of our school’s tragically lost legacies, and it seems clear that there still remain unsettled issues.
The notion has often been presented that nothing good could ever come from last semester. Well, I certainly agree. Attempting to cast a cherry light on such raw loss might appeal to the phantasmal, Disney Land hope that sometimes twitches within the fading buckets of our romantic childhood memories, but would be so daft as to be laughable, and so abrasive as to be enraging. There is no realistic solace that can so quickly soothe such tragedy as the loss of a brother and friend, or mentor and colleague, or seemingly irreparably broken bridge of trust between students and administration.
But even still, the tragedies of life do not magically erase themselves, not over the span of one generation or even many, and certainly not over the span of a mere Christmas break. The benefit of new generations, days, weeks, presidencies, or semesters, is not the erasing of old problems, but the providing of new angles and improved perspectives by which those old problems might be newly dissected and freshly repaired. With this fresh semester we have the opportunity to look with a new light onto the College we left in the rubble of last fall and pull and piece it soundly back together to a state of renewed vigor.
I think we’re off to a good start. Already students and groups across campus are taking bold initiatives to probe into the roots of the Wabash infrastructure and start restoring the color and genuine candor of her famous name.
The poem featured on the back cover of this issue seeks to give voice to that steady restoration I’ve so far seen in the wake of last fall. It speaks upon the tangid belief that in the heart of our deepest struggles, the beauty of our college comes out in its purest form: in Work. Labor. Sweat. Grit. And Nerve.
This is the new perspective brought round by this spring semester. Under its provision, the bleakness of last fall might steadily and effectively, finally dissipate.
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