ay, February 5, 2001
Opi NION
THE BATTALION
Nothing Special
id to qualif) A 9 IK /r 1 1 1 * j *T If . / ,
4 should treat, provide all students, even athletes, with same benefits
r t is hard to spend a year on the
imijHexas A&M campus without
:3/Ttuirsm:,B ear j n g the phrase “world-class
uxersity. While it is nice to have
m pip,,^hool pride, it is even nicer to be re-
js from cotton ?, istic: A&M is not a world-class
^'s^nhersity — not yet, anyway. A
or d-class university is a place
now Doras tiere students come first. Unfortu--
B 2 o° m ™f; ately, A&M is a place where student-athletes come
chnsti :: rs t, and to be honest, students and student-athletes are
Y™ 1 * jfPy different creatures. Only when the University de-
rtemsf ides to stop pandering to athletics and start emphasiz-
com m*!g academics will A&M become the great university it
mm8r U \1: | he emphasis on athletics starts before students
ven get to college. For many students, making it to
Q ollcge is no easy task. Students must work hard to
icKe good grades throughout high school, do well on
le SAT. and spend large amounts of time filling out
“rrrollege applications and applying for scholarships.
ga-aeis 'hln, if they are lucky, they will get into their first-
ougn aj. hrnce school and be able to scrounge up the neces-
funds.
3 , jHpowever, if a “student" is 6 foot 3, weighs 220
ts!* Dogs »ounds and can catch an oblong leather ball, no such ef-
akes. raft : or t s needed. Yes, it must be nice to be a football player.
__J||M\t A&M, high school football players are recruited
s. s25o-s: n l a y S t h at can 5 e described only as questionable. Ac-
rsaie Er» 01 Fing to Tim Cassidy, assistant athletic director for
starting; oot ball at A&M, this may include in-home visits by
l.C. and Co., all-expenses-paid visits to A&M (includ-
\TES tig hotel accommodations and free meals), and full
randoHa ch< larships (tuition, books, and room and board).
; a ii220-6R pi'A&M ever recruited academically talented stu-
iv’ sc 'eijts in this manner, it would bring the brightest stu-
f/ ^ erjts in the country to College Station. In addition,
—ifule most real students aie worried that their 1100 SAT
:oi e will not be good enough for A&M, football and
TT- tht'r athletic recruits are fretting over the whopping
Ca: •' 20 they must make to be eligible to play college sports.
, Pa,,( here are people on campus who scored almost as well
'bed-v-T - p perfect 800 — on only one section of the test.
JlBart Childs, chairman of the A&M Athletic Council
nd a computer science professor, said in a Battalion
iterview in Fall 1999, “Like every major university,
ithietes are admitted with lower academic standards
’ .ian other students. Particularly for [football and bas-
uiexw etball j, many of the athletes we recruit were not great
students in high school.”
calin^ of double standard should not exist at an
istitute of higher learning.
jrg Once athletes have been successfully recruited, they
re offered money in exchange for their athletic ser-
junf t- ' ces - The Athletic Department is fond of calling this a
5pm-8pns I s scholarship” although it often has nothing to do with
ns* bt -Molars. A number of football recruits receive full
owesl pnco n
846-611? chplarships to attend A&M, even though some of
them have not only struggled academically in high
school, but will struggle here as well.
Meanwhile, academic scholarships offered by the
Honors Program are rarely full scholarships and are
only given to people who exemplify an entire range of
qualities, including academic excellence, leadership
skills and community involvement.
In addition, an academic scholarship is taken away
if the student does not perform well academically. If
athletes lose their scholarships when they do not per
form to their fullest potential, then somebody should !
explain why A&M basketball players still have
scholarships.
All these discrepancies are strange, especially con
sidering that the students receiving academic scholar
ships are integral to Vision 2020. Unless college rank
ing systems start considering “quality of athletics” as
an indicator for top 10 public universities, A&M’s pri
orities are backwards.
The pampering does not stop with money, either.
Athletes have access to the Cain Hall complex. It in
cludes an athlete computer lab complete with full-time
staff, free tutoring services for athletes, Cain Dining
Hall, and front-door parking. The only way regular
students can get access to Cain is to live there, and
they still do not receive some of the benefits, such as -
free tutoring. f
One former A&M athlete, archer and senior bio
medical science major Amanda Magee, said athletes
do not even have to register for classes: They just
hand in their first-choice schedules to advisers, who
enter them into classes before anyone else, including
student workers and honors students, has registered.
This is sad, considering the hours of stress and frus
tration normal students often face trying to register for
classes by phone. Z
It would be a different story entirely if the athletes
were performing well academically. But the lackluster,
academic performance of athletes as a group has been ‘
well documented. According to the 1993-‘94 gradua
tion figures from the Registrar’s Office, the graduatiori
rate for student-athletes was 63 percent, compared to
71 percent for all students. The graduation rates for
football and basketball players is pathetic: 38 percent
and 33 percent, respectively. According to the Athletic
Department, during Fall 1999, 63 percent of student-
athletes earned grade-point ratios of 3.0 or lower, com*
pared to only 49 percent of all students.
A&M is already considered one of the premier atfu'
letic universities in the country, and it is easy to see
why. However, if the University has serious aspirations
of becoming world-class, academics must be put first. ’
A&M has tremendous potential, but it will never
achieve greatness if it continues to leave good students^
second in line behind athletes.
Matthew Cannon is a senior
biomedical science major.
t
i
i
e
s
t
s
t
»
»
«
*
*
i
%
til
S
r
i
*
t
(
t
g
i
OSS
ws
room
n 1986, the Russian Aviation and
d the Space Agency established its domi-
3 P on N prc.I. nance in long-duration human space-
light with the Mir space station. Mir,
dtlch means peace in Russian, has con-
ucied groundbreaking research and ex-
-ovennuiiwp^fnrents in its 15 years in orbit. But that
rbit has been anything but peaceful as of
'ite, due to computer failure, fire, explo-
ions and in-orbit collisions. The Russian space program is
lanning to send Mir hurtling through the atmosphere to-
lard the Pacific, completely burning it up in the process.
■vlirCorp, an Amsterdam-based company, wanting to ex-
VOOIV! Ibit Mir and the Russian space program, has different plans
3r Ihe orbiting disappointment. MirCorp is intent on mar-
eting either Mir or Russia’s new International Space Sta-
on (ISS) as the world’s hottest vacation spot. The price for
six-day trip is $20 million.
¥ Y/V R uss ' a wants t0 h ave continued technological
1 il\i r |g ress ’ n space, it must abandon the hazardous, uneco-
omical Mir and forbid civilian passengers to buy their
ay aboard Russian space shuttles and effectively into the
Russian space program.
^California millionaire Dennis Tito, scheduled to be the
irst tourist in space, will launch from the Baikonur Cosmod-
Dnie in Kazakhstan on April 30. Though Tito admits his
hances of going to Mir are not good, he remains hopeful.
T“I believe the chance of me going to Mir is less than 1
ercent, but I think it is highly likely that I will end up fly-
ig to the International Space Station,” he recently said in
nterview with Space.com.
ending a civilian on a $20 million joyridd into space un-
m lH m ’ nes t ^ ie le g itimac y an d integrity of the Russian space
P f I'rlgram. Becoming an astronaut is more than just hard
# li'ork. It is a national honor, and that position must not be
hbapened by an eccentric millionaire who has money to
3 few around.
■Astronauts and engineers are schooled and trained for
fes for the privilege of space exploration, and now it is for
||fe? Space missions should have a scientific objective—
jiey should not be reduced to $20 million guided tours.
■Somewhere there is a qualified cosmonaut who may
Kd the experience this mission will provide, but his career
|p future will take backseat to a millionaire’s money. Un-
' Btunately, this looks like it will be more than a one time
^ ^ I vent for the cash-strapped Russian space program, which
cu , £ Struggling to find a dependable source of income.
today J Not only is this proposed mission a slap in the face of
pi^se who take space travel seriously, it also poses an ex-
jnity ne«
Friday
Mir, the dangers and risks involved in space station life are
still very real.
If Mir’s success is any indication of what to expect from
the ISS, Tito might get more than he bargained for. Do not
forget Mir’s disastrous collision with an unmanned cargo
ship, or the countless computer failures and fires the creaky
station has undergone — and these were in the presence of
trained professionals.
Letting an untrained civilian tag along on a space mis
sion jeopardizes the lives of all those on board. No amount
of money can substitute for training and preparation in
space, where even the smallest mistakes can prove fatal.
When did Russia’s space program lose sight of its pur
pose? Technological advancement and long-term human
presence in space are not achieved by selling mission seats
to the highest bidder. The disaster-prone Mir, and any plans
of sending tourists into space, must be abandoned if Russia
is to maintain its dominance in space exploration and its re
spect among space-travel enthusiasts.
George Deutsch is a sophomore journalism major.
CARTOON OF THE DAY
V/
feme risk for the Russian space program and its cosmo-
‘auts. Though Tito will likely visit ISS and not the aging
Life or Death
Wife should choose in right-to-die case
R obert Wendland has been on life support
for seven years. His
wife and children
would like to remove the
feeding tubes and let him die
peacefully, so they might
have some closure with the
accident they believe took
their father’s life.
But Wendland’s mother
insists her son should contin
ue to live a life stuck in a hospital bed, surviv
ing only by the tube in his throat. It is a difficult
decision, but Wendland’s past opinions and
more recent actions give reason to believe he
does not want to live the way he is now and
should be allowed to die.
For years, the question of inducing death for
ill or comatose patients has been debated. An
ongoing case in California is not debating
whether cutting off life support is right or
wrong, but rather who gets to decide when it is
time to let go.
No one knows what the inner world of
Wendland’s life is like. Maybe no one would
want to know. For 16 months after his accident
in 1993 he lay flat, only occasionally twitching.
In 1995, Wendland began to show signs of
awareness. He can move his arms or legs when
asked. He can answer some questions and
seems to interpret what doctors and visitors say
to him, but the doctors and family need to do
some interpreting of their own. Maybe Wend
land doesn’t want to live like this — if this is
living at all.
When he began to show signs of awareness,
doctors defined Wendland’s condition as a state
of semiconsciousness. At that point, Rose, his
wife and the mother of their three children, had
the right to ask doctors to remove his feeding
tube (under California law), but she chose to
give him the chance to pull through. As time
passed, the circumstances of the situation
changed in his wife’s eyes, and it should be her
right to change her mind.
In his semiconsciousness, Robert Wend
land’s feeding tube repeatedly came dislodged.
After the fourth incident, his wife decided he
was trying to tell her that he would rather be al
lowed to die.
When she made plans in 1995 to remove the
feeding tube, Wendland’s mother, Florence,
went to court to save her son. Judge Bob Me- » ;
Natt ruled in favor of Florence Wendland, say- :
ing that Rose Wendland had not presented
“clear and convincing evidence” to prove her
husband’s desire to die. At that point, the judge
admitted he did not know whether he was “pre-.‘
serving Robert’s life or sentencing him to life.”
This case is diving into unexplored territory,
and people on both sides of the argument are
fighting out of fear of the precedent they think
this case might set. Like many cases that go to ;
the Supreme Court for action, it is imperative *
that a decision be made only for Wendland’s
specific situation.
Two years before her husband’s accident.
Rose Wendland had to make the decision to
take her own father off life support, and her ; »
husband told her she “had done the right
thing.” She believes her husband would want
her to do the right thing again and let this sev-
en-year ordeal come to an end. She does not 3‘
believe that he would want to be kept alive in
this condition. She told “Good Morning,
America” that, “What he said was, ‘If I could
not be a father, a husband or a provider, then
why even exist?’ ”
Because his life is being artificially pre-
served, Wendland’s wife and children have not **,
been able to deal with his death. They do not
believe he is alive, and they want to move on
with their lives the way that they believe their ^
father would have wanted them to.
Seven years has gone by. While miracles
should never be discounted, it is important to
think about what Robert Wendland would
want.
There are a lot of “maybes” and “what ifs”
in these kinds of situations. If “maybe” is fuel
ing the arguments of this case, then Wendland’s
life (as well as the lives of his children and
wife) will continue to be in limbo.
Nothing about life is easy, and deciding to
end a life may be one of the hardest choices any
person could face. Rose Wendland loves her
husband, and if she believes that letting him die
would honor his wishes, any court should hon
or those wishes as well.
Melissa Bedsole is a
junior psychology major.