Walking by the president’s office at Brafferton, passersby notice a small sign affixed to the entrance. “The president’s office. Not for exhibition purposes” - a reasonable concern for the potential encroachment of tourists. Yet, it is a cruel irony for an office and a president currently on exhibition.
Regardless of which decision the Board of Visitors reaches for President Gene Nichol (and this author predicts a favorable outcome for him), the calamity of trivia that has rocked this administration oh so very, very much [sic] will haunt this campus. And the result will be the same: no one cares, except the collective association of Williamsburg’s grandmothers and alumni who want Barry Goldwater to replace Mr. Nichol.
Beyond the Wren Cross, the NCAA, and the $12 million, Mr. Nichol will need time to shake off the stigmatization. A student said that one of her geriatric swimmers at the local pool thought Mr. Nichol was “a creep” for approving the recent and popular Sex Workers Art Show. No, madam, as Bertrand Russell noted, the real creeps are the nice people who think filth into everything. In that regard, Williamsburg has a sizable share of creeps, Mr. Nichol decidedly absent.
For his part, Mr. Nichol approved the show’s budget, but so had the Board of Visitors and then the Student Assembly before them. So much of that one decision lay outside of Mr. Nichol’s province. This is not the least of what becomes excessive, irksome trivia.
At its core, this rally against the presidency of Mr. Nichol embodies a public and humiliating exhibition of Mr. Nichol. More so, it cuts into our pride as students.
We know the typical Williamsburg’s resident is best described as “white haired curmudgeon.” They seem angst-ridden, too. To these lifelong patrons of Colonial Disneyland, President Nichol has acted as the hapless dad in some chintzy comedy where the kids are left to run amuck. The criticism of President Nichol veils an indictment of our inability to live as adults.
Granted, we don’t do much in the way of adulthood. Students hardly pay taxes or labor 40-hour weeks, but our time at college serves to bring us halfway there. During the four or so years here, we explore the personal context of individuality and community and, one hopes without sounding too lofty, the nature of life.
Nevertheless, it is here we receive manumission from our parents and forge an adult persona. What’s more, we have parents who ensure the resources exist to reach that end. Sadly, far too many people come into college with preconceived notions; this debacle shows far too many leave with them as well.
As a result, agitated Republicans and area geriatrics need to recognize we aren’t in grade school. Nor are the College’s students at the mercy of Mr. Nichol’s alleged machinations.
Instead, we play a crucial role in our own college experience and the visible student support for Mr. Nichol’s tenure (as well as the demonized Art Show) speaks to that relationship.
This case of domestic violence between old and new generations of students at the College tarnishes our reputation more than it besmirches Mr. Nichol’s name. Dismissing Mr. Nichol forebodes worse disasters for this College, and the more vehement those calls for his removal, the more obvious the alumni’s detachment becomes from the dynamic of their fabled College.
This College is not a daycare facility - and our autonomy is tempered by a responsible administration that balances individual accountability and a safe environment.
Our alumni ought to remember that William & Mary is a community in itself, too. As students cannot dictate Williamsburg’s politics, the curmudgeons and their allies shouldn’t meddle in ours. That seems to be the perfectly adult thing to do.
Dean Edwards is a staff columnist for The DSJ. His views do not necessarily represent those of the entire staff.