2008 Woodie Awards
Two RAs on common ground: It's just a fence
By: Bailey Barrett and Mac Ingram
Issue date: 9/21/06 Section: Opinion/Editorial
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Being a couple of the "ever-watchful" RAs aforementioned in Mr. Bañes' article, we're concerned with the amount of concern that has been divied up for the four-foot-high, 900-feet-long infrastructure of interlocking metal bars along Edgar Road. As RAs, we are perceived as being "instructed- on pain of death- to prevent any jumping of the fence."
Because being a resource for residents, planning residential programming, enforcing the alcohol policy alone, solving lockout after lockout, being general campus leaders, and picking up cigarette butts isn't a dense enough job description, we enjoy passing our fleeting time perched atop the roof of West Hall, barrels loaded, (after the surprising omission of Facebook news feeds alerting all members of the Webster network of the jumping of said fence.)
We wish to write in defense of the fence. The fence, in case you haven't noticed, is not merely a measure to keep us in, but to keep others out. For one thing, the socially insatiable freshman class might let David Berkowitz in at the slightest ratta-tat-tat at the card swipe door. The fence serves as a blockade for the criminal masterminds and punk-ass kids of Webster Groves, not to mention the "always-worrisome white-haired and thickly-spectacled Webster Groves senior citizen."
Imagine yourself, a motorist, a commuter student perhaps, trying to rush in for your 9 a.m. class, when all of the sudden the Volvo in front of you slams on its brakes to avoid hitting the iPod-toting, Izod-sporting resident who darted into traffic whilst chugging their iced mocha frap chai tea latte with skim milk. We know that while waiting for the Garden-Edgar crowd to cross, it may be tempting to jump in front of moving vehicles, but we tend to avoid such activities because broken limbs, lawsuits and policy claims to 1-800-Safe-Auto will ultimately even further muddle our educational endeavors.
The security of knowing that our time in the traffic light will come, helps prevent us from herding across Edgar all willy-nilly, a decision that endangers both pedestrians and motorists.
Because being a resource for residents, planning residential programming, enforcing the alcohol policy alone, solving lockout after lockout, being general campus leaders, and picking up cigarette butts isn't a dense enough job description, we enjoy passing our fleeting time perched atop the roof of West Hall, barrels loaded, (after the surprising omission of Facebook news feeds alerting all members of the Webster network of the jumping of said fence.)
We wish to write in defense of the fence. The fence, in case you haven't noticed, is not merely a measure to keep us in, but to keep others out. For one thing, the socially insatiable freshman class might let David Berkowitz in at the slightest ratta-tat-tat at the card swipe door. The fence serves as a blockade for the criminal masterminds and punk-ass kids of Webster Groves, not to mention the "always-worrisome white-haired and thickly-spectacled Webster Groves senior citizen."
Imagine yourself, a motorist, a commuter student perhaps, trying to rush in for your 9 a.m. class, when all of the sudden the Volvo in front of you slams on its brakes to avoid hitting the iPod-toting, Izod-sporting resident who darted into traffic whilst chugging their iced mocha frap chai tea latte with skim milk. We know that while waiting for the Garden-Edgar crowd to cross, it may be tempting to jump in front of moving vehicles, but we tend to avoid such activities because broken limbs, lawsuits and policy claims to 1-800-Safe-Auto will ultimately even further muddle our educational endeavors.
The security of knowing that our time in the traffic light will come, helps prevent us from herding across Edgar all willy-nilly, a decision that endangers both pedestrians and motorists.
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