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6 • The Red and Black / Finals • Monday. June 11, 1990
The Red & Black
Established 1893—Incorporated 1980
An independent student newspaper not affiliated with the University of Georgia
Charlene Smith/Editor-irvChief
Amy Bellew/Managing Editor
Hogai Nassery/Opinions Editor
■ EDITORIALS
Graduation
For some it means big money. For some it means
pride. For some it means fear of what is to come.
But for the thousands of University graduates,
Saturday is a day of relief. As the mortarboards fly, a
collective sigh will shake Athens and surrounding
towns.
It will be the end of sleepless nights, overloaded
bookbags, dining halls, Maclab lines, cranky lab
instructors, drop-add, registration, term papers and
several other stressors, at least for a while.
Some lucky graduates will go straight into well
paying jobs in glamorous places or marry people who
are. Some even luckier graduates will go to Europe or
other exotic lands for a fun-filled, and well-deserved,
vacation. Others will spend a few months with the mom
and dad, go insane and begin desperately looking for a
job or applying to graduate school.
After the commencement ceremony, the graduates
are invited to a picnic on North Campus. This is one of
many invitations graduates will begin receiving from
various alumni associations, congratulating them on
their new status.
But next time, they’ll be asking for money. And the
new alums better fork it over if they ever want to see
another football game: $2 tickets no more.
But they’ll find a way to fuel that Georgia passion.
In a few years, the Class of 1990 will be sitting outside
red and black RVs, drinking beer and wishing they
were young coeds again.
They’ll remember the time they made love on top of
the Coliseum or the night they saw R.E.M. at the 40
Watt Club. They’ll exaggerate the stories about parties
thrown, roommates hated and nights on the town.
Ah, those were the days.
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OPINIONS
A FfeelSss
not" ftEpfessed,,,
The joy of elementary school
When my father informed us that my little sister’s
name was going to be Durkhanai, my siblings and I
cringed in horror. A scary future awaited her in rural
Georgia’s public schools, as we, also blessed with
‘‘exotic" names, could attest to. But my parents, im
pressed with the ethnic beauty of these three sylla
bles, were not deterred.
Needless to say, over the past thirteen years her
name has been mutilated beyond recognition by her
teachers and peers. We’re all used to it now, of course,
and I still blame my parents. But it would be ridicu
lous to blame my parents for her other difficulty in
life; Durkhy was bom hearing-impaired
With her hearing aids and speech therapy, she is
able to hear well enough to keep up with children her
own age in school. And so it was with great pride and
anticipation that our family gathered last week in the
Henderson Mill cafeteria to watch her graduate from
elementary school.
What ensued was disturbing. My family and I
watched as one award after another was given to stu
dents for excelling in language arts, math, sports, etc.
There is no doubt that this ritual was taking place in
hundreds of cafeterias across the country that week
This was not the first time I had witnessed it, of
course. My siblings and I had participated and re
ceived awards in the past, and it had never occurred
to me to examine the underlying philosophy of the
event.
A most striking consistency became apparent. All
the same students were getting the awards. One girl
received at least four. There is no doubt in my mind
that she deserved every one of them.
Towards the end, a most striking discrepancy be
came apparent. My older sister and I sat in the cafe
teria, crossing our fingers, hoping that Durkhy would
get at least one award. We knew that if a commenda
tion was given for beauty of spirit or effort or positive
attitude, or a general goodwill towards others, then
she would be guaranteed a certificate. An A plus stu
dent she may not be, but she is the brightest, most
sensitive human being I know.
But, alas! Such characteristics do not make one an
“over-achiever,” and so are not rewarded by the
school’s administration. A very clear line was drawn
that day between the students of the 1990 class of
Henderson Mill Elementary School, a line that sepa-
Hogai
Nassery
rated the “athletic" from the “smart" from the “av
erage," and in effect, the college-bound from the
vocational-trainees from the direction-less.
Children in our school systems today are labelled.
Not just on their report cards, where parents can
monitor their progress and feel pride or disappoint
ment, whatever the case may be. Not just in their tea
cher's minds, which may be unavoidable. They are
labelled publicly before their parents and their
friends’ parents, before their classmates and the
world, before these painful graduation ceremonies
that pigeonhole children, ana with them their cre
ativity and their potential.
How many of those kids, who received no awards,
not even for conduct or attitude, will go on to college?
Durkhy will. And many of the other hearing-impaired
children at her school may, as well. They have to work
harder for their B’s than most kids work for their A's,
and with their work comes a strength that stems from
struggling against a disability.
But, many of those other kids, who are labelled as
“under-achievers," and who receive little to no encour
agement at home, and who are ignored at honors day
or graduation ceremonies, may not make it to post
secondary education. They are victims of a separatist,
elitist attitude adopted by our educational system
way back before I came through school, that not only
discourages but demoralizes these children.
And of course, when presenting her with her di
ploma, they mispronounced her name.
Hogai Nassery is a senior biochemistry major, who
truly enjoyed being the opinions editor this quarter.
