Meeting College Students Dispels Stereotypes
by Jim Bemis
(Summer 1999 Newsletter)
Last weekend, I spoke at Thomas
Aquinas College's Career Day, addressing students on becoming
a writer. This encounter proved so inspiring, so motivating,
and so illuminating that some deeply held viewpoints were
changed forever.
Like mine, for instance.
As I drove onto campus, I
was still thinking about my presentation. I planned to stress
that there's only one reason to become a writer: to tell the
truth. We're so accustomed now to dishonesty - from our leaders
on down - that it seems odd to even talk this way. But any
other motivation eventually corrupts the writer's soul - the
only thing he or she has worth preserving.
Using Alexander Solzhenitsyn
as an example, I had hoped to show that the writer's work
of serving as the conscience of his people has a long and
honorable lineage. Writers must say the things that need to
be said, no matter what the consequences. Sometimes this means
being a lone voice - like Jeremiah - crying in the wilderness.
Suddenly, I had reservations
about calling for old-fashioned idealism in our cynical age.
Everybody knows today's youth are depressingly vulgar and
jaded, interested only in hedonism and worldly things. Who
would respond to appeals for honor when dishonor pays so well?
A simple incident changed
my mind. Sitting in the cafeteria with TAC professor Andrew
Seeley, I noticed a large textbook, "The Works of Aristotle,"
near his elbow. "Doing a little light reading?" I asked.
"No," he said, "It probably
belongs to a student who'll come back and get it later."
I glanced around. Books lay
unattended on several tables. Against the wall was a large
wooden frame with dozens of square, open cubbyholes. Most
were filled with books, jackets, calculators, and other school
items.
It suddenly dawned on me -
these kids weren't worried about other students stealing their
things. Talk about honor!
I decided to give my presentation
as planned. Megan, a student from Kansas City, Mo., escorted
me to a classroom. I asked how she came to TAC.
"I'm the sixth in my family
to attend," she said. "My oldest brother came here first.
Whenever he'd come home, he was so smart and full of knowledge
that he'd win all our arguments. The rest of us decided we
wanted what he had and so we've all come here too."
There is something extraordinary
going on at TAC, where students study the Great Books. The
campus seems permeated by a special light: It's as if you're
raised up onto a sunlit peak in those hills above Santa Paula,
and one breathes air so pure that you can't imagine ever again
descending down into the polluted atmosphere below. In an
ideal world, we wouldn't have to.
Following my speech, I answered
questions and talked with students. One had written two novels
and wanted to get them published. Another composed poetry
and wrote for an Internet magazine. Yet another was writing
a novel and needed a cure for writer's block. They couldn't
have been more delightful to talk to.
Of Hollywood's multitude of
sins, none is greater than the degrading, warped stereotypes
of youngsters in countless silly movies: Mindless drudges
with small intellects and large libidos. Most movie teen characters
nowadays show little ambition beyond seeking their next coupling,
drunken binge, or drug-induced high.
Sadly, people's impressions
are formed by these images. You find out how wrong these notions
are, though, by being around young people. Every student I
met at TAC was bright and energetic, full of optimism and
virtue. Each had a clear sense of identity and purpose: They
knew who they were, and why they were there.
After I wrapped up my presentation,
the students gave me a small ovation. Whatever little encouragement
I offered them, though, pales in comparison to what they gave
me: hope for the future.
As they left, each one stopped
and politely thanked me for spending time with them. It should
have been the other way around.
_________________________________________________________________
James Bemis writes a weekly
column for the Los Angeles Daily News. This column
appeared in the March 7, 1999 edition and is reproduced by
permission of the Los Angeles Daily News.
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