by Lisa Wagner

I have a short story to tell all of you "free thinkers" out there. About four weeks ago I was in a class that every senior in my department must take before graduation. There are 62 people in this lecture. Attendance and participation are figured into the final grade, which is actually a little ridiculous considering the number of people in the seminar, but I digress. In order to protect myself from my professor using a vindictive pen on my grade, the details of this story must remain a little ambiguous. So please bear with me.

To begin each class my professor presents us with a question designed to provide an impetus for an hour and a half debate between the students. This is a wonderful catalyst not only to interact with the other students in my department, but also to gain an appreciation for different perspectives on the same issue. This is, however, where my own inadequacy comes into play. Unfortunately I have a very hard time speaking in front of others. It is a rare occurrence for me to gather enough nerve to speak aloud in class. Since participation accounts for so much of my grade, I am left without a choice. The day of the incident was the first time this semester I raised my hand. I was called upon to stand up, state my name and defend my theory. So I did. I defended a theory which I have been thinking about for two years. My theory was absolutely relevant and my points were valid. I know this because I am writing my senior thesis defending this very theory.

Despite my shortcomings in public speaking, I felt my words were eloquent and my theory well-explained. These feelings were supported by the fact that people in the room were listening and nodding their heads in agreement. As I finished speaking, I scanned the room and I was satisfied with the reactions. With that, I sat back down. Just as I finished patting myself on the back my professor asked me to stand again. I remember waiting for praise from him in reaction to my theory. I had delusions of grandeur, I guess. Much to my chagrin he criticized me. It was harsh, untactful criticism. My blood pressure increased to the point where I thought I was going to pass out. My professor scolded me in front of everyone else in class. He told me, "the next time you feel the need to explain something Melissa (that is my given name) you should think about it clearly before you use racist or discriminatory remarks to defend your point." The degradation continued, "judging by the names on the class roster there are probably a few people who were offended by your theory." He then stated curtly, "You may take your seat again Melissa, Thank you." I wanted to cry.

When class was over, I darted out into the hallway in an attempt to avoid conversation with my friends. I was too embarrassed. Three people caught up with me and expressed sympathy for my situation. From what I gathered, my monologue was actually appreciated and I received compliments on it. Not one of these persons understood where the professor was coming from in his harsh rebuttal. Later I understood him perfectly.

My professor was apparently weaned on the milk of political correctness. Even though my theory did not include discriminatory racist comments, it did describe how a certain stigma has become attached to the followers of a certain religion. I was careful in my explanation so that I would not offend anyone. The only person who was put off in the end was my professor. I, however, will be the one to suffer. I will never speak aloud in that class again.

Perhaps I have acquired a defeatist attitude, but one public humiliation was enough for me. In this case, my own freedom of thought and expression was stifled by the imposition of political correctness.

With the advent of the so-called PC Movement in the early 1980's, free thinkers are suppressed. This is not to say that one should march around the Diag shouting obscenities or racist remarks. It is to say, however, that a certain level of trust should be bestowed on the students of U-M. Give us some credit! I have faith that most students on this campus are able to find a way to cultivate thoughts and express them in a manner conducive to the freedom that should be present. U-M should foster an environment where free expression is promoted. It does just the opposite. The University does not seem to have faith in its students.

It is trendy to be politically correct nowadays. This movement is too precautionary. An example of the absurdity of this movement is all too evident in a letter to the editor of the Michigan Daily. It was published on November 14 in reaction to a cartoon by Yuki Kuniyuki of Ground Zero. The cartoon was about how you can tell that you are going to college in Michigan. The letter was written by a woman who felt denigrated by Yuki's cartoon. She felt he had discriminated against minorities because apparently her skin doesn't turn blue when she gets cold. This poor, young freshman missed the joke. It was an innocent attempt (and a amusing one at that) to laugh at the onset of the harsh winter. I feel sorry for her ignorance because she is part of a larger group of people who are so caught up in an ideal that they cannot appreciate life as it is.