An Open Letter to the Powers That Be:
Being a student at the University of Denver usually entails fielding comments of praise about the prestige and splendor of our campus. Over the past several years the administration have done countless improvements so that the copper-clad beauty of our campus would be known far and wide.
Each day, we students get to walk down those snaking brick pathways amid lush lawns, gurgling pools, shining sculptures and splendid buildings. But for those of us who take classes in math, engineering or communications, our prideful walk turns to that of shame once we pass Olin Hall on the way to class.
While the rest of campus is designed to mirror the incredible academic progress that occurs at the University of Denver, the south end of campus, home to aforementioned departments, has been grossly overlooked in the tidal wave of campus improvements. In fact, it would seem that these lowly blue blockish buildings and the students and faculty who inhabit them are hardly part of the university at all.
Imagine my excitement when perusing the Prospective Students web site for the first time as a junior in high school. The virtual tour filled me with hope of someday strolling through a small, traditional campus full of the types of buildings and everyday activities of campus life that one thought only existed in movies.
Well, imagine my shock and dismay when as a journalism student I was told to report to the Mass Communications building for my first class only to find it at the southernmost end of campus (practically in Colorado Springs). This string of humble shacks was not in the postcards from campus, the downtime on campus, or the round-the-clock Learning portions of the virtual tour.
Evidently, the powers that be have put a slightly skewed version of the campus forward and, boy, do I feel deceived. Is it the location? The lack of rich people interested enough in these departments to build one of the blinding copper-plated monstrosities that have become the status symbols of D.U.? Or did you simply forget about us hardworking folks out in the frontier down on Gaylord Street?
Whatever the reason, a little reality check is in order. There are people who work and study in these totally inadequate buildings every day while a majority of the campus and faculty enjoy the luxuries advertised as standard fare in all of the university’s promotional material. Some of us never feel the smooth leather of overstuffed chairs in student lounges or sip on the delectable coffees offered by in-house coffee kiosks. No, some of us work in small cramped rooms with terrible lighting, fuzzy Internet, and schizophrenic heating and cooling units.
In light of this, all the new construction on campus is a slap in the face. So next time someone decides to throw a couple million dollars your way, pick up a pair of binoculars and take a look at the Southside of campus for improvement, but you might have to make the trip yourself, binoculars are a risk with all that blindness-inducing copper in your neck of the woods.
