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About The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current | View Entire Issue (Oct. 13, 1983)
£ Page 2/The Battalion/Thursday, October 13,1983 Computers 111 i t e rates reclaimed By Maxwell Glen and Cody Shearer WASHINGTON — Armed with an architecture degree from the University of Pennsylvania, Christina Harlander found work two years ago at a small Phi ladelphia consulting firm. For Harlan der, a four-year investment in a liberal arts education seemed to have paid off. Last year, however, the 24-year-old Riverton, N.J., resident discovered she lacked the training to make it as a modern businesswoman. Having passed up Penn’s assortment of computer sciences and related courses — “I was too busy taking other things,” she explained — Harlander had neither the experience to advance as a manager nor the academic qualifications for a top-flight business school. Harlander fits the description of what some people call a “computer illiterate.” If computer-competents are those who’ve either been formally schooled in programming or have learned it at work, computer illiterates are those who’ve fal len through the gaps and, without special training, sould be left behind. They con stitute a lost generation of Americans whose inadequate quantitative skills may be one of the nlost unfortunate legacies of the nation’s educational crisis. According to Katherine Poliak, vice dean of Penn’s College of General Stu dies, the typical computer illiterate prob ably graduated from college between 1975 and 1982, earned respectable marks as a humanities major, but now realized that he or she is woefully under- educated when it comes to computers. “It was almost without consideration that students during the late 1970s went through four undergraduate years with out taking math and computer courses and emerged without those skills,” Poliak said. “Anybody who went to college in those years thought, Tm not going to do stuff like that in my life.’” Indeed, even as late as 1980, computer science was regarded by many collegians as all but exclusive to IBM-bound en gineers or future NASA technicians. Un til recently, computer courses were gen erally the domain of math departments — a tendency which only fanned stu dents’ irrational fears of infinity, integ rals and matrices. Meanwhile, some students found “in terfacing” with a big mainframe compu ter a little queer: Even if they could fore see the array of personal computer appli cations available today, few believed then that their life’s work would involve a ter minal. A few years later, of course, that assumption seems primitive. Data pro cessing has infiltrated businesses of all kinds, and computers have grown more user-friendly. Gomputer illiterates face a scary, premature obsolescence as the de mand for technically-trained college gra duate grows in an otherwise sluggish job market. To help this strangely disadvantaged class — roughly 20 million Americans, Poliak conceived a program last spring for “retooling” liberal arts graduates in a uantitative skills. In September, 33 stu- ents, including Ghristina Harlander, registered for introductory courses in calculus, statistics, economics, accounting and the “decision sciences” (computers). Some of Poliak’s “Post-Baccalaureate Pre-Business” students are eyeing an MBA; others just want to make them selves more valuable to their current em ployers. Gonsider student Paul Rader, a 1983 graduate of Notre Dame. An English li terature major with a weakness for Shakespeare, Rader was able to bypass Notre Dame’s science requirements and, he says, received only gentleman’s grades in economics. Rader, 23, now works at his brother’s shoe store and kicks himself for ignoring the computer mania that swept South Bend in late 1981. “It was getting crazy,” he recalls. “Everyone realized that the computer was going to affect their lives and wanted to get some experience (with) it.” Perhaps not surprisingly, Poliak con tends that her program will self-destruct by 1993. As high school and undergradu ate computer courses overflow with stu dents (and, no doubt, graduates in other cities return to school to pursue compu ter skills), computer illiteracy will dimin ish. By Graduation Day 1993, computers will have become as rudimentary to liber al arts as James Joyce. It’s too early to gau^e the extent to which the “lost generation” will see the need for retaining. But if the current job market provides any indication of future demand, this group’s members may have to recognize that need soon or remember college as literally the best years of their lives. Gj the pet It takes more than publicity to make a world university The phrase “world university” is being thrown around with increasing frequen cy here at Texas A&M. Achieving world university status seems to be one of the major goals of this institution, but no body agrees on how to accomplish that goal. A lot of people aren’t even clear on what a world university actually is, but are still gung-ho about doing whatever you have to do to be one. It might help to define the term. Presi dent Frank E. Vandiver originally used the phrase in a column released by Un ited Press International in July 1982. World universities, he said, would be strategically located and “linked together through a network of cooperative prog rams, sharing their expertise and helping one another and the people they serve. The world universities would facilitate the expansion of human knowledge and contribute to maintaining world peace, he said. So much for the definition. Now how do we get there? “While research and related activities would be the backbone for a world uni versity, it would also have to be superior in its teaching function,” Vandiver said. “In the future we must turn out people far more advanced than we are now.” Read that again. What makes a world class university? Two things: research and teaching. Those are the building blocks. If a university’s teaching and re search are first-class, the university will be first-class. But organizations at Texas A&M, from the Board of Regents to the Memo rial Student Genter Gouncil, have missed Is weather cold or hot? It’s a matter of perspective There seems to be a slight discrepancy in the type of weather we are having. On an average walk from the Com mons to Reed McDonald in 50 degree weather, a person can see everything from people in shorts and t-shirts to peo ple in sweaters and ski jackets. Well folks, where I come from 50 de grees is not that cold. In fact it is mildly cool. In the Panhandle, 50 degrees is the temperature of a middle May night or a middle September morning. It’s normal. It’s average. In fact it’s downright nice. Down here, people get a chill in 70 degree weather. I guess all can be put in perspective when you compare a Texan to someone from Minnesota. When I graduated from high school, my aunt, uncle and cousin from Minne sota came down to Amarillo. While we Humidity is another thing people tend to deal with differently here than at home. When I first moved to College Station, I couldn’t walk outside without becoming ringing wet. Now I have adjusted to ev erything except the way of thinking ab out humidity. One day I heard someone saying, “60 percent humidity, it’s going to be nice today.” I walked outside and before I could turn around to go back inside, I felt as if I had just walked through a sprinkler. §Ie)N 03 ROCKV MTN. NEW§-MEA were going to school and working, they were relaxing in the backyard in their swimming suits and working on their tans. My aunt was in a bikini, while I couldn’t stand putting shorts on yet with out having a quilt to under crawl. In Amarillo, we start complaining at 30 percent humidity. I think that person is the same one that was complaining about how flat it was in College Station. Honey, you ain’t seen nothing yet. In the Panhandle, few people get speeding tickets because they can spot a cop from five miles down the road. It is possible to see the lights of Amarillo from 30 miles away. It’s easy; there are no trees. Besides 60 percent humidity and trees, rain is another thing virtually un known in the Panhandle. I didn’t know how to work an umbrella until I moved down here. Whenever the need for an umbrella arose, it would quit raining before we could dig it out from behind the snow boots in the closet. Snow? Yup that’s what I said. Last winter we had 27 inches of snow, not counting the snow we had received in 1982, and missed five days of school. STaRT HeRe I showed some pictures of a 10-inch blizzard in March to my suite-mate from Corpus Christi. She couldn’t believe that all that snow was in Texas. To tell the truth, at the time neither could we. The blizzard followed a warm front which had gotten the temperatures up to an unsea- sonal 60 degrees. Unseasonal and drastically changing weather is common place in Amarillo. In fact, we have a saying that goes, “If you don’t like the weather in Afnarillo, stick around for 15 minutes and it will change. Kathy Wiesepape mited number of speaking engagemtE tab’ his coming here presumably wouldfe world attention on Texas A&M- world-class program for a world ww sity. The fact remains that publicity4 not make a world university. IfRicfc Nixon came to College Station tosei permanent residence, we still would be one step closer to reaching ourj Texas A&M will not become aw# university by recruiting "big nai' speakers. the Me the par deg deg tor; dot Mb tor Yo p.r that point. Instead of building programs that set high standards of learning for students and give the faculty greater in centives for research, we’ve concentrated on externals, statistics and “big names” to attract publicity. At a recent meeting of the MSG Coun cil, the topic of discussion was the prog ram for the 1984 Endowed Lecture Series. The Endowed Lecture Series committee proposed two programs in volving former president Richard Nixon. “If ne were to come to A&M to speak, it would be quite a coup for the MSC and our committee,” Jason Wischmeyer, chairman of the committee, said during the discussion. Fine. I personally think a program by Nixon would be extremely interesting. What bothered me was the attitude of the committee and some of the council mem bers. Their primary goal for the program was not its educational value, but rather, the national publicity that would follow' Nixon here. Since he only accepts a li- Fexas A&M will not become a wo; university by adding Nobel Prizewinm to its faculty, or recruiting more Nate Merit Scholars than any other univers in Texas. And Texas A&M will not beam: world university because it hasacaril just like all the other big, prestip: schools. tak hii Pa Nc scl As Tc of Texas A&M will become a worldu - . versity by following one of the basicpr - A (iples of public relations: first buildiny programs, then building its inn through publicity. But the publicity cannot come^ Before that. Aggies — that means ■ dents, faculty and administrators—n® to have a clear understanding of whaiap Ne goal is and a definite sense of howwel|ents reach that goal. Bianr med Only then will Texas A&M be close: becoming a world university. T Stud vork Prof shouldn’t accept; invitation from Russia Janu; xpai TOgl appn Stud( enn; Editor: A few weeks ago I was irritated by a person who copied several letters of in vitation for a “special” trip to Russia for a selected chosen prof. I consoled myself thinking that it wouldn’t matter how many copies they got, there would be only a cold no for reply. Then to my grief I read that Uterbeger not only accepted cha ped. As if it’s not enough that our doesn’t take action for 007, Uterbegci going to bless them with her preset and discuss history. Ref: People Dept. 19-83 Why doesn’t Uterbeger discusshisioi with Olga Hjalmarsson and help her her fatherless children to bed etc, etc. but “looks forward to the trip.” I’m chap- Forrestjon appn “J subm ofth( ]haii M tyiire Tarry >per )rofi Jf in 8 from T. no ej Camp televi that The Battalion USPS 045 360 Member of Texas Press Association Southwest Journalism Conference Editor Hope E. Paasch Managing Editor Beverly Hamilton City Editor Kelley Smith Assistant City Editor Karen Schrimsher Sports Editor Melissa Adair Entertainment Editor .... 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