S(Taylor Howard/DP)

I found myself glued to my laptop late Tuesday night and well into the wee hours of Wednesday morning, clicking on link after link from the major news sources and from blogs, Facebook, MySpace, etc. Amidst images of candlelight vigils and students huddled in prayer, a single theme continued to resurface. It seemed that everyone had one question in mind: Who’s to blame?

Of course, the most passionate accusations are directed at the killer himself. I came across numerous Facebook groups cursing Cho Seung-Hui. They are justified in their anger. But many of them eerily echo the same violence and hatred that Cho himself exhibited.

Others have pointed fingers at the university, saying what it should have done differently. But the reality is, all the precautions in the world, the most strategic security measures, cannot provide a safeguard against man’s potential for evil. (Consider the breach in the Iraqi parliament building last week.)

Still others suggest that the people around Cho were remiss. Interviewers of Cho’s professors and roommates dance around the question, “Why didn’t anyone intervene?”

It is also interesting to read critiques from the rest of the world, many of which find a more nebulous scapegoat in an American society “that fosters violence at home and abroad,” as one Washington Post article puts it. In Le Monde, French social scientists debate “une culture de la violence aux Etats-Unis,” zoning in on the gun issue. In the UK, The Sun features an interview with the dealer who sold a gun to Cho. The same Washington Post article also reports responses from the Middle East which, in an interesting twist, criticize Americans for a lack of perspective and insensitivity. One particularly sobering quote comes from Ranya Riyad, a 19-year-old college student in Baghdad: “It is a little incident if we compare it with the disasters that have happened in Iraq…We are dying every day.” Husam Kareem al-Iqabi, a Baghdad teacher, says more pointedly, “…I wish we would see this international interest in the killing of 33 students in America for all the martyrs that fell at the gates of universities, on the bridges and in the markets in Iraq.”

Yes, we can analyze and point fingers to no end. But the bottom line is, we live in a corrupt world, where man is capable of unspeakable evil. Last fall, the Amish community was confronted with the same unimaginable pain that the Virginia Tech community is experiencing today. It then shocked the nation with an equally unprecedented reaction that focused not on the evil but on the process of healing. We, too, must acknowledge the reality of evil in our world and then devote our energies to combating this evil with good, dispelling violence and hatred little by little, day by day, through our own words and actions.

It’s another brisk, gray morning at the North Wales train station as I join the ranks of fellow commuters headed into the city. We await the train in silence, in observance of some unspoken law, unwilling to disrupt these precious moments of early morning calm.

I’m always struck by the unnaturalness of the scene. In virtually any other situation, people constantly chatter. Words are perpetually in motion in the classroom, in the workplace, on the street, at mealtimes, through cell phones, on the television, from the radio, etc.

And, as a result, talk is cheap. In economic terms, the explanation is simple: By nature of its availability and accessibility, talk has become seriously devalued. We take our speech far too lightly. We fail to see the tremendous impact of our words, whose value, in part, lies in their very ubiquitousness.

In this fast-paced world, where everyone is competing for the mic, we rarely take time to think before we speak, often saying the first thing that comes to mind. Now, this wouldn’t be a problem if all of our thoughts were always right and true. But, as New York Times columnist Bob Herbert points out, in response to the Don Imus fiasco, “The language, of course, is just a symptom,” an external manifestation of the disease within. As long as we remain imperfect people in an imperfect society, where, in the words of Herbert, “loathsome, soul-destroying disease[s]” such as racism and sexism still prevail, we need to examine our words and wield them with caution.

Words not only reflect reality but also have considerable power to shape reality. And misguided words in particular have a way of staying with us–as evidenced by the actions of one Penn student who believed himself to be the victim of a 34th Street shoutout. Sure, Street’s shoutouts are supposed to be “all in good fun,” but you have to admit, some of them are over the top. And when, to borrow Herbert’s words, “the coarsest, most socially destructive images and language are an integral part of the everyday discourse,” we’ve got to expect some negative consequences.

When we were kids, saying the wrong thing got us sent to bed without dessert — or a spanking, as the case may be. In high school, “offensive” language landed us in detention. In college, for the first time, we have ample opportunity to exercise our right to free speech. Let’s not abuse it.

It’s now 7:38, and the R5 Express arrives in a whirl of dead leaves and debris. In the bustle toward the doors, the verbal silence is broken by a series of “Excuse mes” and “Thank yous”. As I make my way to an open seat, I think of my day’s script that is yet to be written.

Reach a little further, Timmy! (www.eldridgepark.us)

“I’m so excited for you!” exclaims a junior friend. Well, that makes one of us. After 22 years of being told what to do and where to be, after 17+ years of identifying myself as “student,” I find that any stirrings of excitement are promptly quashed by one dominating emotion — terror — as I think of graduation. It is the product of years’ worth of accumulated anxiety about that nebulous thing called my future.

We’ve got well-stocked resumes, plus an Ivy League name to back us up. Sounds perfect — I can’t figure out why I’m so anxious. New York Times columnist Judith Warner has an answer, and it has to do with the fact that we are a group of relatively high achievers here at Penn. Warner herself, as a Harvard alum and author of a New York Times bestseller, knows a thing or two about overachievers. She writes in piece entitled “Looking beyond the Brass Ring,” “A lot of success early in life can be a real liability–if you buy into it. Brass rings keep getting suspended higher and higher as you grow older.” At this point, we can’t settle for anything short of saving the world.

The article unleashed a storm of response. Commenter #103 responded to the column by saying, “…we reach a point when there’s no life syllabus to follow anymore. Without structure to measure expectations and achievement, we super-achievers get very, very nervous.” She says of her underachieving adult friends, “They are afraid of who they could be, because it may not be as good as what they were told they were 10 years ago–in high school–when life was hectic, but the goal was simple: to get into a good college.”

The problem with “brass rings,” says Warner, is that “they have a way of turning to dust in your hands.” The solution, then, isn’t to stop reaching for rings — while we don’t need to save the world, the truth is, a lot of us have our hearts set on it. But if we’re going to reach for rings, they gotta be the real deal. And the beauty of it all is that the world needs saving in more ways than one. So take your pick–whether it’s silver, gold, or platinum, you won’t go wrong.

As an English major, I make it my business to spot split infinitives, dangling modifiers, and mixed-up homophones. Yes, I’m that obnoxious grammar maven, red pen in hand, ready to pounce on the poor fellow who can’t keep his subject pronouns and object pronouns straight. But, it looks like we English majors aren’t the only ones passionate about correct grammar. The last time I checked, the Facebook group “I judge you when you use poor grammar” was hovering around 130,240 members.

New York Times columnist Dick Cavett is also attuned — perhaps painfully so as the son of two English teachers — to the misuse of the English language in America today. In his February debut column “It’s Only Language,” Cavett catalogues some of the linguistic faux pas that drive language purists crazy (at the top of the list, the mispronunciation of the word “nuclear” as “nuke-you-lur”), concluding, “Sloppy language leads to sloppy thought.”

Ignoring the flagrant political talking points peppered throughout the piece, I was initially inclined to applaud Cavett. Not only do I admire his clever, witty writing, but I also agree that the ability to speak proper English is an invaluable skill. And there are a lot of Americans out there who feel the same way. The article generated a whopping 770 reader comments, the majority of which, to my surprise, sang Cavett’s praises and listed their own grammar gripes.

Yet, even as I champion the use of proper English, I realize that there are limits. Despite our best efforts, the linguistics of prescription (how people should speak) and the linguistics of description (how people actually speak) will always be at odds. American English as we know it is a lovely jumble of Spanglish, Franglais, Chinglish, Konglish, Ebonics, etc., featuring hundreds of dialects and registers across the country. Valuing the power of language means appreciating its richness and variety, its dynamism and flexibility. After all, the best speakers and writers break the rules all the time. Heck, the Bard himself always made up new words.

When all is said and done (no pun intended!), these word wars should be about effective communication. (Many archaic grammar rules seem to hinder communication. Not to mention, asking, “To whom are you talking?” makes you sound like you have a large stick up your derriere.) The source of our miscommunication goes much deeper than nouns and adjectives. Contrary to what Cavett suggests, knowing the difference between “nuclear” and “nuke-you-lur” isn’t going to solve our communication troubles.

Ms. Min’s chariot. (SEPTA)

After three years of campus life, I decided to save some cash during my senior year by commuting from my Lansdale home. When I told my friends, their initial reaction was, “Why (the heck would you want to live with your parents again)?” With only a handful of undergraduate commuter students at Penn, my experience has been a bit different from that of the average Penn student. Here’s the 411 on going to school from home:

• A Wacky Schedule: I have a fourth-grader’s bedtime, when most college students are rousing themselves from post-dinner food comas to begin a long night of “studying.” I also wake at an ungodly hour of the morning to have breakfast with my parents and catch the 7:38 R5 Express.
• The Joy of Siblings: I’ve learned to block out my kid brother’s rendition of “Ode to Joy” on his beginner violin while trying to read Paradise Lost.
• More Green Spaces: I take spontaneous trips to the park to go kite-flying with the family.
• More Cash in My Wallet: My mother supplies me with Red Bull in bulk from Costco.
• Home Cooking: I’m desperately trying to lose the 15 pounds I’ve gained since the beginning of the school year. My mom’s Korean cooking is that good.
• The Absence of Peers: I find myself working off those pounds alongside senior citizens at the Y. (Where do I get my motivation without the Pottruck eye candy, you ask? You’d be surprised. Seeing what I’ll look like in 50 years is enough to make me appreciate my youthful energy all the more! Plus, it means I don’t need to put on makeup to go to the gym!)
• More Planning: I need at least 2 hours’ advance notice to attend any kind of event on campus, whether it’s a group meeting, a show, or simply dinner with friends. In other words, that a cappella concert better be worth the trip! Staying connected to the Penn community as a commuter is not impossible, but it takes a heck of a lot of effort.

Campus life is a lot of fun — it’s a unique, once-in-a-lifetime experience. But, I don’t regret choosing to live at home during my last year at Penn. Pretty soon, I, along with many other seniors, will be making the official transition to adult life. We’ll be leaving the nest for good. I’m grateful for the time I’ve had with my family this past year.

The issue of teaching bible in schools has recently been covered by many major media outlet. This image is from Time Magazine’s piece. (Win McNamee/Getty)

Alex Golub, a contributor to Inside Higher Ed, humorously recalls that when he was in college, “people were more likely to take acid than communion.”

At first glance, it seems that college culture is resistant to all things spiritual. Looking around in class today, I’m not so sure. There are more empty chairs than usual — some classes have been cancelled altogether. Passover is once again upon us, and many Penn students have gone home to celebrate with their families. Towards the end of the week, still more students will be seen hailing cabs, rolling suitcase in hand, as they head home to celebrate Easter.

And yet, while many students have religious backgrounds, they are surprisingly ignorant when it comes to religious history and thought. Last semester, my French lit professor expressed her alarm when none of us could intelligently discuss the religious references in the medieval romance Tristan and Iseut. She begged us, at the very least, to invest in a copy of The Bible for Dummies. Apart from the fact that none of us were really equipped with the vocabulary to talk about the Pentecost in French, she definitely had a point.

And religious literacy isn’t just important for medieval lit. or religious studies classes. Those seeking to completely sever religious life from public life will do well to accept the reality that American society is absolutely saturated in Judeo-Christian influences.

That’s why the Society for Values in Higher Education has come up with “The Windspread Declaration on Religion and Public Life: Engaging Higher Education.”The document urges colleges and universities to promote “religious literacy” in their curricula, because “students need to understand the historical relationship between religion and the disciplines — sciences, humanities, arts, and social sciences — and the professions, as well as the contemporary relevance of religion to the disciplines, the professions and public life.”

In order to provide students with a well-rounded, complete liberal education, colleges and universities must include and encourage religious discourse in serious intellectual inquiries. Students should be well-versed in Western religions, if not to make better-informed personal decisions about rejecting or embracing these faiths, to better understand a society that has been historically shaped by these religions and that continues to be influenced by them today.

Bringing religion into the classroom is undoubtedly a sensitive issue. As Golub, who teaches anthropology at the University of Hawaii at Manoa, puts it, “Like a lot of worthwhile tasks, it’s a tricky one.” But, he concludes, “the issue is not necessarily what is being taught, but how it is being approached.”

With the arrival of close-to-record-high temperatures on Tuesday, Locust Walk looked more like the Atlantic City boardwalk, as girls debuted their summer wardrobes of cleavage-baring halters, butt cheek-baring shorts, and back-baring summer dresses. Two weeks after Spring Break, scarlet sunburns had finally settled into nice golden-brown tans, and girls were anxious to get rid of the leggings under their miniskirts altogether. I blushed for the sixty-plus professors who found themselves lecturing to groups of underdressed underclassmen. And I blushed for our lovely nymphettes.

But most of all, I pitied our poor undergraduate men. For the sheltered ones, their modest Orthodox Jew or Protestant Christian eyes simply didn’t know where to look. And the remaining majority of virile college boys simply ogled.

There are a lot of smart women at Penn who pride themselves in their strength and independence. I ask you, ladies, is this empowerment?

In his latest piece, Philadelphia Inquirer columnist Alfred Lubrano laments what he calls “rampant slut culture,” citing not only degrading women’s fashions but also women’s dating habits, claiming that college women are “aping” men when they engage in “soul-free sex” in lieu of “real relationships.”

Self-proclaimed “old-fashioned feminist” Roberta L. Hacker, in her Letter to the Editor responded in support of Lubrano, saying, “I wonder why others are not more vocal about the phenomenon, as it is not just a concern for ‘American Christians’.”

Lubrano and Hacker both conclude by saying that women must “regain the controls.” They insist on a battle of the sexes. But, here’s the problem: as long as they highlight the power struggle between men and women, they can only hope to prolong these gender wars. Lubrano and Hacker’s statements are counterproductive.

Rather, the focus should be on what womanhood means. Today, American women have more freedom than ever before to embrace their feminine beauty and sexuality. And they should. But it must be done in such a way as to complement, not eclipse, the feminine assets that go beyond biology.

During the interview portion of the Miss USA 2007 competition last Friday, Miss California was asked the loaded question, “Should a woman ever use her beauty to get ahead?”

My answer? Sure! (Realistically speaking, it’s almost inevitable.) But, “getting ahead” should never come at the cost of a woman’s dignity and integrity. After all, beauty comes in many different skirt lengths.

Kind of spooky looking…no?

For a lot of commuters like me, the hour-long train ride to campus is prime time to catch up on some reading. And it’s always interesting to see what books the rest of America (or at least Philly) is stuffing into their overfilled briefcases. I find that the lists don’t lie. My seatmates are usually absorbed in the latest James Patterson thriller or Jodi Picoult tear-jerker, right off the Barnes & Noble bestseller displays.

Some quick research on Facebook shows that Penn students are no exception. They finding time between assigned readings by Plato and Nietzsche to read all of the hottest contemporary authors. Our “Favorite Books” lists look suspiciously like the New York Times Best Sellers list, with maybe a couple titles from 11th grade AP English thrown in for good measure.

For the most part, these books are relatively harmless, and I’ll admit, they make for good beach reads, if nothing else. But then there are always some questionable titles that manage to achieve cult-like appeal through a bit of clever marketing and celebrity endorsement.

Rhonda Byrne’s The Secret is one such bestseller, claiming to hold the key to success and happiness in every aspect of life.
“You are God in a physical body,” says writes Byrne, “You are the master of the Universe.” With lines like these (plus a little help from Oprah), this self-help sensation has sold soldmade millions of copies and made made quite a few headlines. In fact, the last time I checked, it was second only to Harry Potter #7 on B&N.com’s Hourly Top 100 list.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I have to question America’s judgment when I start reading things statements like, “The earth turns on its orbit for You. The oceans ebb and flow for You. The birds sing for You. The sun rises and it sets for You. The stars come out for You. Every beautiful thing you see, every wondrous thing you experience, is all there for You. Take a look around. None of it can exist, without You.” Yes, this is exactly what this country needs–every American saying, “Ah-ha! So the world really does revolve around me after all.”

Maybe The Secret is an extreme example. But the numbers can’t be ignored. Millions of Americans, educated and uneducated alike, buy into these best-selling book crazes are buying into these the self-help genreliterary trends. Book culture is such that we have no choice but to rely on recommendations and reading lists.

But even as we look to these resources, let’s make sure that we ourselves we should be are being discerning readers. Let’s be our own book critics and ask our own questions. What are we reading? Who’s telling us to read it? Or better yet, what would should the DP bestseller list look like?

The plastics sit together at lunch. (Movie Gazette)

They say friends are everything during the rollercoaster adolescent years. That’s why teenage relationships are one of sociologists’ favorite phenomena to study. Penn associate professor of sociology Grace Kao, who was featured in the March 15 issue of Penn Current, chose to study this age group in her latest work on friendship, entitled “Do You Like Me as Much as I Like You? Friendship Reciprocity and Its Effects on School Outcomes among Adolescents.”

Hoping for some profound insights into the nature of friendship, I was disappointed to find that the study primarily focused on friendship trends along race lines and how these trends reflected on the kids’ grades. Just like every other work on the sociology of friendship, Kao’s study played the race card. Not that race is irrelevant — everyone knows that race has everything to do with our relationships. But that’s the point. We already know that all the black kids sit together at the lunch table, all the Asian kids sit together, etc.

What’s more interesting about Kao’s study is how she defines friendship. She specifically uses the term “reciprocal friendship,” defined as a mutual agreement between two children that they are indeed friends. In other words, friendship can only be determined by a personal evaluation on the part of the subject. Now, I don’t know about you, but as a kid, I had a new best friend every week. My friendships were about as stable as Webmail.

And in college, it seems that the title of “friend” becomes even more tenuous and arbitrary. There are the mere acquaintances, with whom you cross paths occasionally, be it one wild night, one semester, or even a couple of years. Fellow classmates, floormates, co-workers, and organization members usually fall into this category.

Then there are the old high school friendships, separated by distance and maintained by regular Facebook messages that go something like, “I miss you!!! <3 <3 <3.” You’re reluctant to let go of these friends, but honestly, you’ve grown apart. And you can continue on down the spectrum until you get to the lifelong friends, the “bosom friends,” if you will — those precious few who will make up your wedding party, become the godparents of your children, and perhaps attend your funeral.

Friendships, sometimes unlike friends themselves, come in all shapes, sizes, and colors. As such, the term “friendship” is utterly subjective.

I guess there are some things that the sociology professors just can’t teach us. But you know what they say — most of the lessons learned in college are taught outside of the classroom.

Huh…interesting. (State of Alabama)

I’m proud to announce that over spring break, I became a licensed driver. Yes, at twenty-one going on twenty-two, I finally tasted the freedom that most of you gained at the tender age of sixteen.

In Pennsylvania, as in many other states, when you get an ID card (including a driver’s license), you’re asked whether you’d like to become an organ donor. (If you were a teenage driver, your parents probably made the decision for you.) To be honest, I had been too preoccupied with my parallel parking to give it much thought. Of course, it’s the Good Samaritan thing to do, but then there are always those who say, “Don’t check the organ donor box, because if you’re in an accident, they won’t try as hard to save you.”

Maybe they’ve heard just one too many horror stories about the trafficking of human organs on the black market. But according to one Washington Post article, these fears aren’t completely unjustified.

When a donor is on his deathbed, organ removal can’t begin until doctors have officially announced his death. Thank you, Captain Obvious, right? Unfortunately, it’s not as straightforward as it sounds. The controversy, of course, revolves around the technical definition of death. Since the 1968 report by the Ad Hoc Committee of the Harvard Medical School, the general consensus has been to define death as “irreversible coma” or “irreversible cessation of all functions of the entire brain,” as opposed to the traditional definition, which only calls for cessation of heart and lung activity.

In recent years, however, a procedure called “donation after cardiac death” (DCD), in which organs are removed just minutes after a donor’s heart stops beating, has become a growing medical trend. Over the past three years, the number of DCD donors has doubled to 600, and many medical centers are developing policies to allow the procedure.

Surgeons like Francis L. Delmonica of the United Network for Organ Sharing, advocate DCD by citing the over 95,000 people in the U.S. waiting for organs.

But many other experts say that they are hesitant to “blur the definition of death,” adding that DCD has a “ghoulish,” “macabre” feel to it. After all, admits Jerry A. Menikoff, a University of Kansas professor of law, ethics, and medicine, they are “starting to remove the organs a few minutes before [the donors] meet the legal definition of death.” In addition, DCD usually involves patients on life support, which suggests that families of donors, when presented with the option, feel pressured to prematurely terminate treatment.

The thought of DCD is unsettling, to say the least. Organ donation itself is a wonderfully generous and compassionate act, but I simply can’t support a procedure that tweaks the definitions of life and death. As Gail A. Van Norman, a bioethicist at the University of Washington, so aptly puts it, “It’s worrisome when you stop thinking of the person who is dying as a patient but rather as a set of organs, and start thinking more about what’s best for the patient in the next room waiting for the organs.”

So although becoming an organ donor doesn’t necessarily mean that I’ll be a DCD donor, I decided not to check the box just yet–and I can only hope that potential DCD donors out there will stay out of my way on the road.