By Ian Evans
Education Not Debt Coalition, Fossil-Free AU
I walked down the hall, about a hundred yards in total to the three-shower-stall bathroom I shared with about 35 other 19-year-olds. I found a stall and stripped down to face the bitter chill of the bathroom (which was weird because it was in the middle of a huge 7-8 story building. I bent down and turned the shower all the way to the hot side (I knew the hot water wasn’t going to be very warm, because it usually isn’t). To my dismay, I discovered that after a few seconds, the water was still ice-cold. I stood there shaking and shivering, fiddling with the temperature knob as my other arm dangled in the falling water. As I was doing this, I began thinking about my tuition money- and most importantly: where the hell was it?
From the first semester of my first year, I was slapped in the face by an incredible administrative bureaucracy that characterizes the state of “upper tier” American universities. The university decisions are made by a group of mostly rich, old, white men who are real estate moguls, financial executives, and heads of major banks--not the sort of people you’d expect to be in touch with average American students. This group at AU is known as the Board of Trustees.
Last semester, I participated in AU’s powerful fossil fuel divestment campaign. Through that experience, I began to truly understand the economic and socio-political corruption of the University model. The Fossil Free AU (FFAU) coalition was the first student movement in the history of AU to meet with Trustee members in small groups. Nevertheless, the members of the Board failed to truly engage with us. They didn’t answer our letters about the moral arguments for fossil fuel divestment. They refused to return our phone calls. The head of the Finance and Investment Committee called in to the Board meeting at which divestment was discussed; he wouldn’t even show up in person. Members usually refrain from speaking to students, are rarely on campus, and don’t even care enough to show up to discuss an issue that 80 percent of students support. How can they be expected to vote with our best interests in mind if they make no effort to learn about our concerns and priorities? We are the source of 81 percent of the school’s revenue, so shouldn’t they have to care about our interests?
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Education Not Debt Coalition, Fossil-Free AU
I walked down the hall, about a hundred yards in total to the three-shower-stall bathroom I shared with about 35 other 19-year-olds. I found a stall and stripped down to face the bitter chill of the bathroom (which was weird because it was in the middle of a huge 7-8 story building. I bent down and turned the shower all the way to the hot side (I knew the hot water wasn’t going to be very warm, because it usually isn’t). To my dismay, I discovered that after a few seconds, the water was still ice-cold. I stood there shaking and shivering, fiddling with the temperature knob as my other arm dangled in the falling water. As I was doing this, I began thinking about my tuition money- and most importantly: where the hell was it?
From the first semester of my first year, I was slapped in the face by an incredible administrative bureaucracy that characterizes the state of “upper tier” American universities. The university decisions are made by a group of mostly rich, old, white men who are real estate moguls, financial executives, and heads of major banks--not the sort of people you’d expect to be in touch with average American students. This group at AU is known as the Board of Trustees.
Last semester, I participated in AU’s powerful fossil fuel divestment campaign. Through that experience, I began to truly understand the economic and socio-political corruption of the University model. The Fossil Free AU (FFAU) coalition was the first student movement in the history of AU to meet with Trustee members in small groups. Nevertheless, the members of the Board failed to truly engage with us. They didn’t answer our letters about the moral arguments for fossil fuel divestment. They refused to return our phone calls. The head of the Finance and Investment Committee called in to the Board meeting at which divestment was discussed; he wouldn’t even show up in person. Members usually refrain from speaking to students, are rarely on campus, and don’t even care enough to show up to discuss an issue that 80 percent of students support. How can they be expected to vote with our best interests in mind if they make no effort to learn about our concerns and priorities? We are the source of 81 percent of the school’s revenue, so shouldn’t they have to care about our interests?
Read more...