the libersonian
April, 1 2016 Vol. 22 No. 8
Independent Student Newspaper of Davidson College Since Today
Administration Accidentally Releases Course Catalogue For 2027 Registrar Sophie McHugh Guest Writer
In the largest security breach Davidson has seen since Don Fogley’s accidental admittance of a female student in 1972, the Registrar mistakenly released the proposed course catalogue for 2027. Classes not meant for mortal eyes for another decade are causing quite a stir all over campus. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” assured President Carol Quillen, “Yes, the classes were based on an algorithmic projection of future events. Sure, we’ve been developing highly advanced time travel technology in a lab covered by the new science building construction site. But our endeavors weren’t meant to be exposed quite yet.”
Quillen has reportedly been tied up in negotiations with Barack Obama, Vladimir Putin, Dolly Parton, and several others vying for the rights to the time projection algorithm. As for the school, individual classes have led many students to question what type of future the technology depicted. The Fall of Europe, offered by Professor Tilburg, has raised concerns about current international events, Molinek’s course description of Infinity’s End seems to suggest that Pi is finite, and Environmental Studies seems to have been replaced entirely by a Wilderness Preparedness department. “I always wanted to be a history major, but now that I see that 2027’s history classes are
all about World War III, I think I’ll switch over to Poli-Sci,” admitted Lisa Bunkle ’19. It appears that graduation requirements have also been altered, the only distribution requirements now being just seven courses on cultural understanding and one in mathematics. World leaders aren’t the only ones vying for the visionary technology. Numerous break-ins have been reported, all perpetrated by Davidson students eager to get a look at their own projected futures. “I wanted to see if there was going to be a pop quiz in Paradise’s class,” confessed one anonymous culprit, “and then maybe check if I was gonna get lucky this weekend.” Others have shied away from even peeking at the course catalogue. Danny Blue, ’17 reports: “Nah man, knowing that kind of crap will just create a wormhole. A self-fulfilling prophecy if you will, like horoscopes. Knowing Trump will be president will just lessen anyone’s conviction to oppose him, that sort of thing. That said, Nelson’s Intro To Writing Post-Apocalyptic Fiction looks pretty dope.” Hope still remains for some sort of consistency persevering through the decade to come: It appears that despite all of the projected changes, the Classics department, professors included, will remain intact.
Gamma Delta Iota Hazing Reaching Fever Pitch Thomas Waddill Staff Writer
He cautiously looks around. “I’m so scared,” he whispers. “I feel like anything, absolutely anything, could happen to me an any moment.” This Gamma Delta Iota pledge – who requested anonymity for fear of targeted hazing from the GDI brothers – is but one of the many GDI pledges that have lived the past six weeks under constant dread and anxiety. GDI pledges are harder to spot that those paying their dues to earn a spot in the other campus fraternities. They lack the usual markers of pledges – they aren’t compelled to wear pins, collared shirts, or other articles of ridiculous clothing. No, the best way to spot a GDI inductee is by the constant expression of pure, unadulterated fear. “This,” says Rick*, “is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
Despite a nation-wide effort to purge hazing from colleges and universities, radical pledging practices have maintained a firm hold in most American campuses. Davidson’s Gamma Delta Iota chapter is, reportedly, a bastion of such cruel rituals. “If they would just tell us something, anything, about what we’re supposed to do,” continues Rick, “I’d be a little more at ease. But they’ve given us nothing. No word. No instructions. Absolutely nothing. Only a miserable existence of constant terror. We have no idea what to do. We don’t know where the brothers are. We don’t even know who they are. We just know that they could punish us for being bad pledges at any moment, anywhere.” Many pledges have undergone such psychological stress that they have sought help from campus mental health counselors. However, they usually walk away in no better a state of mind than went they went in. “They directed me to an anti-hazing
hotline,” Jack* told me in a secluded corner of the library’s basement. “But it didn’t help. The woman on the line asked me what kinds of things GDI is making us do. That’s the thing. I didn’t know. I had nothing to tell her. All I know is I’m scared.” Libersonian contacted GDI leadership for comment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” responded Zach Blount. “Pledges? I don’t understand.” Almost every major case of hazing in the last decade has involved an extensive amount of secrecy regarding the barbaric rituals. Leadership will often look the other way and even deny any knowledge of its existence. “Honestly,” Rick confides, “I’m thinking of dropping.”
*Names changed to preserve safety of individual