In mid-September, I found out that my boss from one of my campus jobs had passed away.
When the person who had been tasked with disseminating the news told me, I couldn’t breathe. Ruth? I had just seen her three short months ago – had numerous emails signed ‘Thanks!’ from her in my inbox – had an imprint of her in my brain as perpetually sitting in her chair at Becker House in front of a computer screen.
The Office of Communications informed Ruth’s interns of the news in-person. They offered us condolences and support systems and, later, a link to her obituary. I, for my part, didn’t tell many others. Bringing up bad news has never been my forte. Perhaps that makes me as guilty as the administration in its own parallel act of (mis)handling information. I will, at the very least, admit to that.
A few months after my former boss’s death, I read an editorial in this newspaper on campus rumors. The content of both the article and those rumors hardly comes as a surprise to students now; the “news” about Professor Vyse’s departure has been circulated through nearly every medium, word of mouth and Yik Yak seeming to be the most common.
Most mediums, that is, except for the most direct: the college’s administration itself.
The editorial called for the administration to address these rumors because silence on the topic implies that “it is okay” – “it” assumedly standing in for both Vyse’s alleged actions and the distribution (or lack thereof) of official information concerning those actions. Students were enraged. Students were affected by what had happened and how what had happened had been handled. Students wanted – no, deserved – information.
After I read that editorial, I thought about my former boss. I thought about recent conversations and speculations and debates about secrets and stories and faculty and staff and students. I thought about what types of information members of this campus consume, discuss, violate, perpetuate.
I’m still thinking about all of that.
Let’s take a poll. Were you upset when you found out that the college had withheld information from students surrounding Professor Vyse’s departure? Why or why not?
Were you upset when you found out that the college had not notified all students that a staff member had died last semester? Why or why not?
Think about your answers to those questions.
Some may argue that these two situations are too different to be compared or to be viewed upon the same spectrum. One implicated a faculty member, one with whom many students were familiar and well-acquainted; the other involved a staff member that spent her days behind-the-scenes of this college, working directly with few students. Of course there was a greater amount of attention dedicated to the former; it makes intuitive sense that the more well-known an individual is, the more widespread news about that individual will be, as more people will be potentially affected by that news.
That is a valid point, and one with which I do not disagree. Yet it is one that raises issues of privilege, power, authority and stance. Even on our socially-conscious, occasionally “progressive” liberal arts campus, what – and who – is news? What news is worthy enough to make it to our Harris dinner conversations, to Yik Yak, to The Voice, to an email from Katherine Bergeron?
It might be worth thinking about what types of information we – on the student end – are focusing on. What information we’re demanding. What information we (believe we) are entitled to. What information we’re angry that we don’t have access to. And what information we’re okay with not knowing.
It might be worth thinking about what the answers to those questions say about our community: its values, its ideals and what we (would like to believe we) stand for.
I, for one, am still thinking.
