With last week’s student government elections taking over
Bruin Walk, there was ample time to question the administrative
happenings at this university. That’s when it occurred to me
that I really don’t know anything about the UCLA (or UC)
administration, how it operates or what it does ““ and I
don’t think many students do either.
I’m not sure about anyone else, but the only reason I went
to vote in the Undergraduate Students Association Council elections
was because I wanted to help pass the measure to expand the Wooden
Center and because an old roommate of mine was on the ballot. I
started to wonder what else might be happening at this school that
many of us are completely unaware of, and why it is that we know so
little.
The most obvious, yet solvable, problem seems to be the lack of
visibility of campus officials. I see the Kettle Corn guy more
often than I see the chancellor or dean of students pass by me, let
alone speak to me about something I think is important.
When this column was in its beginning stages, I told my editor I
wanted to write about the lack of actual interaction between
students and the people who shape their university experience. She
suggested that I speak with one of the officials I had in mind,
which seemed like a good idea, until I actually sat down and found
myself thinking (ironically), “How do you go about contacting
a prominent UC official, or the chancellor?” The fact that I
had no idea seemed to justify my point even further.
I began my investigation with the intent to attack the
officials’ attitudes and such, but that gave way to the
realization that in the post-college world, time constraints are a
harsh reality and interactions require lots of careful planning.
Students are just as responsible for seeking out the administrators
as they are obligated to seek out us.
Before the inevitable search for information on the Internet
transpired, I made a list of things I know about the administration
here at UCLA and in the UC system. I know our main guy is Albert
Carnesale because I always get e-mails from him reassuring me that
the situation with those rowdy graduate students is completely
under control and not to worry about their threats to withhold my
grades.
I know that Gloria Stypinski is a top-level official in the
College of Letters & Science because I was her son’s
counselor at camp. So, that makes two. I know the campuses are all
run by a group called the regents, because I write a fat check to
them once a quarter. And I even know that one regent is a student
because there was a question about this person’s appointment
underneath the Student Programs, Activities and Resource Complex
referendum on the ballot.
And that’s where the list ended.
It is frustrating that so many students would have comparable
lists, or worse. The business of the board of regents and the UCLA
administration (as I have learned) is incredibly important. It is
in all students’ self-interest to know who these people are,
their positions and how to take action when you support or disagree
with them.
But there are midterms, papers and finals to worry about.
We’re all here testing out the waters: learning to pay bills
and balance schedules with part time jobs, sports and student
groups. We have immediate priorities that do not always allow us to
keep ourselves up-to-date with the goings on of UC officials.
It seems like it would take a lot of work to learn who the
ambiguous “they” are, but in all actuality, a quick
15-minute jaunt online can do the trick. You can click on the
Faculty/Staff link directly from your My UCLA Web page and find out
for yourself that Richard Atkinson is the president of the UC
system. You can even read his recent speeches and commentaries, and
look up events he is hosting or will be attending in the
future.
You can find out that the elusive regents are a 26-member board
of some appointed officials (who serve a 12-year term) and
California state officials (like the governor, lieutenant governor
and assembly speaker) who are elected by voters. I even learned
that next year’s student regent attends UCLA. The link also
takes you to a page that highlights important debates in the UC
arena, with a brief rundown and articles from both sides of the
picture. Within the time it would have taken me to walk to Ackerman
for yogurt and back, I became three times as aware as I was
before.
Yes, students have a responsibility to know who is in charge. We
get mass e-mails from Big Al inviting us to the special
“office hours with the chancellor,” and there is also
the Dinner for 12 Strangers program sponsored by the Student Alumni
Association. It’s a good idea to take advantage of those.
But I still have a gripe with university officials, because I
think there is much room for improvement on their end of the
bargain. Our ability to click on a Web site and learn the basics of
the system is great, and important. But that virtual experience
will never compare with human interaction. There is so much to be
said for the person who is willing to step out into the student
community and make some noise.
Sure, we should know what is being voted on for our own personal
cultivation, but when members of our immediate community, namely
the students, do not seem to be included by the main players, it
does not appear to be very beneficial to spend a lot of time
thinking about them.
I want to see administrators out on campus once a quarter
speaking at Ackerman or in the dorms. I want to hear what
they’re doing for us and see them up on stage with the people
we elected to USAC last week, talking about the measures that
actually take effect.
I want to hear someone who is fired up about student life and
issues that affect us like parking, registration fees, affirmative
action and overcrowding. A fervent speaker who cares enough to make
the effort to reach out and really talk to people about something
tangible is far more motivating than any article we’ll ever
run. Where is the leader among this colossal campus administration
who will make the sacrifice of one day a quarter to go and see the
students they are actually working for and be visible?
The day someone cares enough about this campus to speak out and
energize it consistently and genuinely is the day that we can all
stop feeling like our nine-digit student I.D. numbers and start
believing that this place really means something. We can all go
through the motions and get little letter grades on our degree
progress reports. But shouldn’t it mean more than that?
And shouldn’t the people who recruit us to come here and
carefully select us from thousands of applicants be concerned
enough to pay close attention to us in the time they have us here?
We deserve that much.