Hamilton College Admission Journals: Geoffrey Hicks

Diversity at Hamilton College

Wed, 03 Dec 2008 22:15:32 GMT

The term “diversity,” as I have mentioned in previous entries, has recently become a buzz-word at Hamilton College. Last night there was a town hall meeting held in the Chapel about “diversity,” focusing on a controversial article, the opions of which were both contested and praised by many members of the greater Hamilton community.

Of the hundreds of people who filled the Chapel for the meeting, some strongly disagreed with the author’s claims and assumptions, finding them offensive and presumptuous, while others applauded the author, whose name I will omit, for his articulation of seemingly progressive insights and observations.

Last night’s town hall meeting demonstrated one of many recent examples of how widespread the disagreement and touchiness of the word “diversity” has been to Hamilton College. The issue of “diversity” is a sensitive one to Hamilton College because the demographics of the school have drastically changed each of the last five decades.

Meetings such as last night’s invite the Hamilton College community—a communtiy which exhibits good intentions in trying to symbolically represent differences—to challenge or redefine the meaning of diversity, especially as the word relates to the current demographic mix of Hamilton College.

Talkin' Black

Wed, 19 Nov 2008 01:14:51 GMT

As you may already know, I am an English major. Nevertheless, I have many cross-disciplined interests, and so each semester I make sure to enroll in at least one course outside of my major. This semester I am taking an African American History class which covers the beginnings of the trans-Atlantic slave trade through the beginning of the Civil War.

I have a research paper due this Friday for my history class. I am writing paper on “Negro dialect”—African American speech patterns as transcribed by the interviewers of the Works Projects Administration in the 1930s. During the New Deal 1930s, several writers were commissioned to interview former slaves about their experiences in slavery. I have learned that these aspiring writers probably saw this as an opportunity to both make money and to become inspired for their creative writing projects.

I am particularly interested in how these writers listened to their African American interviewees—how they heard them. The writers were told that they had to transcribe or record the speakers’ dialects exactly as they were spoken. But the problem I have found is that the writers really focus, if not obsess, over the pronunciation of words. I hope to uncover what the implications might have been behind this obsession of people's speech. Why have there been associations with the intelligence of black people based on the way they speak?

For example, when I began my college education I felt a lot of pressure to speak clearly and to annunciate my words. And it is almost impossible to imagine Barack Obama speaking Ebonics and winning the election. It’s practically a no-brainer. Yet, I wonder why these strong negative reactions exist in the first place to whether or not black people can be received as intelligent and legitimate based on whether or not they speak standard or non-standard English.

Top Ten from the Heart

Tue, 11 Nov 2008 02:17:01 GMT

1. Standing on Minor Field during the early evening because I love watching the sun set.

2. Walking down the hill because I can see another glorious view facing east.

3. Writing poetry. I’ve found that there is actually a difference between handwriting a poem and typing one.

4. Watching the leaves blow off the trees or the falling snow as it frosts over the branches.

5. Consciously breathing and listening to silence—in order to relax.

6. Singing and whistling while I walk. This is one of the few activities that I can multitask.

7. Reading poems written by friends or by the great poets.

8. Running into friends between classes and talking with them, almost to the point of being late.

9. Listening to 80s music in my room (and sliding across the floor in my socks).

10. Being a daydream believer.

An Enlightening Conversation

Sun, 02 Nov 2008 22:08:02 GMT

On Thursday, I ate lunch at the Little Pub with another student named Matt. He and I are both deeply interested in and committed to solving social problems and socio-political issues, but we felt we had ideological differences in terms of our approach and even assumptions about the nature of the problems which we hoped to resolve. We planned to have lunch together so that we might more carefully listen to one another and discuss these issues face to face.

We had initially met one another at a campus-wide Strategic Planning Meeting a few weeks ago, a meeting in which Hamilton students, faculty, staff, and administrators came together to discuss the outline of the "Strategic Plan." The decisions of the Strategic Plan would directly impact the college for at least the next five years, and thus, have inspired students like Matt and myself to really reflect on and offer our own suggestions.

I am very interested in these types of conversations with friends because I feel that they bring us closer together. If we were to remain silent about the implications behind certain words such as "diversity," a buzz-word at Hamilton College, we could never truly grow as educated individuals. And experiencing the full spectrum of such education is technically what going to a liberal arts college like Hamilton is all about. It's significant that a place like Hamilton, which is very small, residential, and where the learning does not only happen within the walls of the classroom but in the dining halls and dormitories, can openly involve the entire community to discuss, disagree, and suggest solutions to the issues raised in its strategic plan.

Issues relating to race, for example, are very sensitive in the United States because of the institution of slavery, as I have explored in my African American History class. Undoubtedly, a place like Hamilton is susceptible to the outstanding ramifications of this period in American history, as is the entire country. On a very interpersonal level, it is so important, as I have recently experienced, to sit down with someone and just actively listen to what they have to say about particular issues that they are passionate about. This is the purest kind of learning and the first step towards experiencing a true sense of community.

Transitions

Wed, 22 Oct 2008 00:25:37 GMT

Early this morning, as the drizzle of cold rain sprayed my face and raincoat, as the beauty of pumpkin-colored leaves shook and were strewn through the air, and as the sky darkened, brightened, and darkened again, a rare and unidentifiable feeling arose in me. It was neither exclusive bliss nor sadness, nor could the blending of these two emotions define my state. Nostalgia, perhaps, was a closer description, although I felt more aware of the present moment, or even the future, than the past. I was not underwhelmed by the joys which ritualistically accompany the changing seasons, nor could I feign immunity to the loveliness that was autumn.

I had classes first thing in the morning and then went to the library where I read and bumped into some close friends. And my Tuesday schedule for the rest of the morning was the same as usual. I spent the majority of the afternoon reading a very challenging selection from an anthology for my literary theory and criticism course, and not long into it, I found myself gazing out the windows. I was situated in one of the study classrooms that had been built along the new Kirner Johnson building (KJ) on the old Kirkland side of campus.

The Kirkland campus faces southward. Upon it, the remaining construction of the new Kirner Johnson—which houses the government and economics classes and departments, as well as other social sciences—undergoes daily maintenance and modifications with construction workers driving the project toward completion. The room in which I studied is located on the first floor at the very southeast corner of the building. Two of the room’s four walls are designed as enormous glass windows, giving the room a breathtaking rural authenticity. I felt as much inside the room as I felt outside of it, projected into the picturesque autumn setting.

From inside the room I was shielded from the cold rains, which now fell harder, and from the winds which pressed against the glass. I could see the grey sky forming more homogenously out of the merging clusters of dense, rain-heavy clouds. I witnessed the construction workers shovel up dirt and drive their trucks down the flattened gravel roads between Minor Field and the Kirner Johnson building. And for a brief moment, I noticed one of the workers looking at me with a meaningful expression on his face. From inside the glass room, I looked outside as the leaves continued to fly from the tops of trees.