Need a more stringent Winter Term

Winter Term was conceived to enable and encourage students to discover the value of self-education. In theory this is a noble goal, imbued with the inherent ideals for which an Oberlin education is renowned - namely the "learning and labor" spirit we see emblazoned on our seal. In practice, though, Winter Term is no more than an extended holiday break for many students, or an excuse to raid the trust fund for a vacation to faraway locales.

This is not to say that nothing worthwhile has ever been achieved by Obies during the month of January. Rumor has it that Jerry learned how to make ice cream over Winter Term, thus enabling him to lay the foundation for the hippie empire we all know and love. Many students also find internships, do community service or conduct research for Honors' projects. Perhaps Winter Term should not be abolished in favor of a return to more formal academia. Instead, such projects should be more closely scrutinized, or there should be a formal way of regulating the abuse of the current system.

Every first-year on campus is frightened of what they will be doing for Winter Term. They worry and obsess about whether they are utilizing the month to fully realize their Winter Term potential. That is until they ask an upperclassman about rules and find out that there are none and are then told which professors will sign off on anything with a title less than 24 characters, spaces included. Technically, for a full Winter Term credit a person is required to work five to six hours a day; however, the number of people who actually devote that amount of time is roughly equivalent to the number of people on campus who can actually eat the big hot dogs from Stevenson without experiencing serious gastrointestinal distress.

Giving students a month to pursue independent projects is a worthwhile goal. But until some reforms in the Winter Term process are enacted, the opportunity will continue to be squandered. But who knows, maybe calculating the ratio of purple horseshoes to green clovers in Lucky Charms will allow some future Oberlin alumni to devise a better system of cereal distribution and then give the College a nice fat endowment.

The Co-Op/College crisis continues

Watching the affairs of the Co-Op Bookstore dissolve into squabbling and revenge has been disheartening proof of the ugly side of business management. Financial insolvency is scary in itself without accusations of conspiracy flying around; yet it is in this undercurrent that we tread upstream to classes, to finals study groups, to Ben Franklin for soap and erasers.

The news that the Co-Op Bookstore is suing the College for fraud and breach of contact came like a slap in the face. When the Co-Op was presented with an ultimatum by their business management company CUBPaC on Nov. 5th, it turned to the College Board of Trustees to plead for assistance. The Co-Op owed approximately $1 million to CUBPaC in payment of its inventory and unpaid management fees. Despite its history in helping out the Co-Op, (the College lent it $40,000 in 1997), the College made the difficult decision not to prolong everyone's misery by propping up the Co-Op once again. As a result, CUBPaC ordered the Co-Op board to shut its doors. The Board of Trustees did not take this decision lightly, for they knew there would be consequences on both sides - most immediately, they would either be supporting a backpeddling bookseller or they would have to become the bookseller. Their decision was a necessary dose of hard medicine. The College cannot continue to support a money vacuum, nor should the Co-Op blame them for not bailing them out. At this point, the College should cut its losses and do what it can to salvage the rest of the time before textbooks must materialize, accepting the fact that the Co-Op cannot be revived.

There are other disturbing aspects of this crisis. The filers of the suit against the College are relatively new to the scene - five out of the six Co-Op board members were recently appointed in October. Perhaps this explains the quick turn of events that have been brewing since before last April. No courtesy phone call was made to let the College know of the Co-Op's plans to sue. Former Co-Op employees, including students, have not been paid for their last weeks of work, nor do they know when they will be.

It is unfortunate that the College's reputation has suddenly changed from good neighbor into criminal, but it is safe to say this latest eptihet is wholly unjustified. The Board of Turstees tried their best to right the sinking ship that was the Co-Op Bookstore; let us hope that former Co-Op owners will remember this before following through with this irresponsible suit.

Editorials in this box are the responsibility of the editor-in-chief, managing editor and commentary editor, and do not necessarily reflect the views of the staff of the Review.

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