Department Recognition Awards– Because Really, I Think We All Know They Could Use Some Improvment

By Whitney Pasternack ’11

Does anyone actually look forward to the Department Recognition Awards? I hate to ask, but I’m pretty sure that almost everyone can answer with a resounding (if unspoken) “no.” This has nothing to do with not liking to see our classmates succeed or jealousy. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. The idea behind the Department Recognition Awards is a really good one—it’s an opportunity for teachers to reward students for exemplary qualities that aren’t usually recognized, be it grades, kindness, interest, uniqueness, or another quality. It’s an award students can’t stress over, because it’s impossible to try to achieve. It’s just nice. So why is it that they are so insufferable?

I think the answer to the question boils down to the format. Even as a freshman, I walked into common period knowing I would not be enjoying myself. Assembly seats. Eurg. They set the tone for conformity and monotony. The third floor of Fogg is even worse—that’s all kinds of uncomfortable. Altogether, the ceremony is an hour and a half long. It’s a bit much, wouldn’t you say? Six speeches for four grades four times a year. It’s nice to watch classmates from other grades being awarded, but not an hour and ten minutes worth of nice. Honestly, we’re all watching for our friends, people from classes we take, and for ourselves. When I walk into the theatre, all I can think of is how much better spent this time would be as a universal free period. We all need those. And then the awards just get so formulaic. Through no fault of the teachers’ own, the speeches blend together. After all, as varied as they maybe, the point is always the same: the student will come to the front of the theatre to collect a slip of paper and a hug. Individually, the speeches are interesting—sometimes even brilliant—and full of personality and cheer, but taken together they become noise on the ears of many students.

I think even some of the teachers dislike Department Recognitions. Choosing a student to single out for praise is hard for some teachers. I think if given the choice, many of them would decline. Some speeches give the distinct impression that they are directed more towards a class than an individual—and that isn’t a bad thing. The spectacle of the Awards is stressful for a lot of people too. Pride and a sense of personal achievement come with winning any award, but not everyone wants to be singled out in front of the entire school. These teachers and students would probably be more comfortable if they could give the awards privately, with less fuss—possibly in the class where they are being assigned, in front of the students’ closer colleagues who can relate to the speech on a personal level.

I don’t want to get rid of the Department. Recognition Awards. I don’t think anyone does, really. As a school, what makes us unique is our flexibility. A more personal, intimate setting for the ceremony would be a great improvement. At the very least, it would give the student body six free periods which they wouldn’t otherwise have to conference with teachers and get work done coming up on important times of the year. I think that’s an idea everyone is willing to support.

An Issue of Necessity

By Whitney Pasternack

There is a problem with the girl’s bathrooms.  I don’t like to beat around the bush, so let’s get right down to it. It’s the tampon machines.  Yes, tampons.  I said it.  Tampons! Are we good?

Okay, moving on.  In case you’re unfamiliar with them, here is a general background: every girl’s bathroom in this school, including the co-ed restroom on the first floor of Fogg, comes equipped with a standard, graying wall dispenser.  In the science building, a sign plastered to the top of the machine reads, “The Power of Choice.”  Oh, the possibilities.  For a quarter, you get to make the exciting choice of whether you want your small quantity of gauze-like cotton rolled into a tube or matted into a napkin.  Pretty standard.  However, for some reason these machines seem unable to run properly.  Every machine in the school has been empty and unmarked for all of recent memory, except for the one in the upstairs Art Center bathroom.  It’s unacceptable, really.  Furthermore, the basics of the machine, even in working order, are flawed.  Quarters, contrary to common belief, can be painstakingly difficult to find.  To anyone who has ever had to use one of the tampon machines, it’s usually in a moment of borderline desperation.  Most people don’t carry quarters.  A lot of people don’t bring money to school at all.  Imagine yourself in this situation for a moment: you are searching frantically for the odd quarter in the school.  You ask friends, then acquaintances. You finally find one.  You put the quarter in the machine.  You turn the dial.  Nothing happens.  There is a moment of stunned, horrified silence.  Despair.  This has been the fate of many quarters in this school.  Even a machine that accepted dollar bills would be easier, although a dollar is a pretty exorbitant price for what is basically a glorified bounty towel. The only thing that has been protecting these machines from more public complaint is the veil of modesty.  It’s no one’s favorite topic.

Just before break, a sign was posted in the girl’s bathroom on the second floor of Fogg stating that the machine was out of order.  That’s a step in the right direction, but it’s really too little, too late.  This isn’t a working system.  I propose a total change.  I mean, think about it: why is it that we have to pay for feminine protection in the first place? All other necessities at this school are either free or included in the tuition—lunch, soap, toilet paper, paper towels, band-aids, a good deal of class equipment including objects like protractors, pencils, papers, expensive art supplies, heating, lighting, and water from the fountains.  Make no mistake, feminine protection is a necessity, maybe even more so than most other toiletries.  After all, most high school age students can refrain from using the bathroom for seven hours at a time if they so chose.  Refraining from beginning your period?  Not so easy.  To be frank, blood is coming out one way or another, and for the sake of cleanliness, it’s up to our community to hope it winds up being disposed of in the proper method.  When you think of it like that, it might just be one of the most necessary items available in the school.  It’s in all of our best interest that feminine protection is readily available, and hypocritical to charge solely for this necessity when no other academic necessities require a payment.  You could go so far as to call it a double-x chromosome tax.  It’s kind of crazy, isn’t it?

So, what needs to happen is this: free tampons for everyone.  I doubt this will be a major tax on the school budget.  Considering it mathematically, there are about 230 students in the Upper School, and of this, a little more than half are female.  So of these 120ish girls, statistically, about 1/7 of them might be on their period’s at any given time (based on an average of a 4 day period once every 28 days; thank you, American Pregnancy Association).  Bear in mind as well that the school tampons are only ever a last resort, and even if they were free, that’s not a lot of money.  Then there’s the fear of people taking advantage of them, if they’re provided.  To that I would say: it’s not the money that makes people buy the tampons as a last resort.  A quarter is hardly worth anything, once you find one.  If you borrow a quarter from someone, chances are, they won’t ever ask you to pay them back.  It’s a trivial amount.  It’s just cultural.  No one will go running into the bathroom to take a handful of free tampons just for kicks.  The risk of someone abusing these privileges is low. The last argument I’ve heard against this idea brings up the point that it’s just standard to charge for them. But then, what’s normalcy in the face of being able to do something a little more fairly?