A friend who also attended USC for Higher Ed & Student Affairs has been working at Alabama for three years. This semester she is teaching a class, mainly for freshmen students. Below is an email she sent based on a conversation she had with a student after the very first class:
Conversation with a student in my class:
Liza Lee: I just wanted to introduce myself, I’m Liza Lee
Me: Great to meet you, where are you from?
Liza Lee: Decatur, did you say you were from South Carolina?
Me: No, I just want to grad school there.
Liza Lee: Oh, my cousin went to grad school there but now he works at another school as the Dean of Students or something. He plans events for students.
Me: Really? What is his name?
Liza Lee: Josh McKenzie
Ladies and gentlemen, within a month's time I have worked my way up the ladder and am now the Dean of Students for Northwestern University (which was just named the #12 school in the country by 2011 US News and World Report [again]). haha!
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The first full week has been amazing/hectic/surreal all rolled into one! First I'll talk about my humble abode, located smack dab in Wrigleyville. Now, I have decided it is fate I live here, because right around the corner of my house is a bar called The Houndstooth- Alabama inspired! What are the chances?! It is a cool little bar with houndstooth wallpaper, framed pictures and articles about the University of Alabama, three different styled rooms, and enough people packed in on a weekend night to count as the entire population of the great Yellow Hammer state.
My first weekend was filled with touristy things with the fam (I can refer to them as touristy things because, again, I am a native). The Cubs game at the historic Wrigley Field, a mere 5-10 minute walk from my house, was awesome, a trip to the Northwestern campus, perusing through the overly crowded Taste of Chicago and sight seeing that had our dogs a barkin'.
On a side note, there is no Wal-mart or Kroger around. So where did I go grocery shopping you ask? A place called Jewel Osco, which is a typical grocery store. But can I tell you a regular little container of ice cream was $6.99! I'm STILL outraged at my frozen dairy delight.
I have become a real city person by riding the "L" (I have been told to stop calling it the train because that is something totally different. So I ride the "L") everywhere. In my 10 days here, I have used my car once! I am a short 5 minute stroll to the "L" stop and it is a 25ish minute ride to Evanston- home of prestigious Northwestern University. NU is an amazing campus- located right on the lake (Lake Michigan, I believe). AND, did you know that NU's peer institutions are Duke, Brown, Yale, NYU....so we have some smart lil nuggets here!
This past weekend I went on a kayaking tour of Chicago on the Chicago River. I would not advise touching the water, unless you are wanting to contract diseases, but nonetheless, it was an awesome way to see downtown Chicago from a different perspective.
Now that you have a little tid bit of an update, you can eagerly anticipate a post or two about some muy delicioso restaurants around town and some other cool facts.
One more thing, I randomly passed the movie set for Transformers 3 yesterday in downtown Chicago. How crazy is that!?
I always scoffed at the people that got caught up into the ridiculousness of The Jersey Shore...until I got caught up into it. What is not to like...except everything, which is why I like it. They just released a preview of the second season (which will be in Miami)...and I could not have laughed harder. Two awesome quotes from the video below:
I had fried pickles for the first time ever. It’s like a sliced pickle, and it was fried. It was crunchy but juicy. Eating fried pickles was a life-changing experience. -Snooki (while in Savannah, GA)
I don’t go tanning tanning anymore because Obama put a 10% tax on tanning–but I feel like he did that intentionally for us. McCain would never put a 10% tax on tanning–because he’s pale and he’d probably want to be tan. -Snooki (while having self-tanner applied to her at home)
I had fried pickles for the first time ever. It’s like a sliced pickle, and it was fried. It was crunchy but juicy. Eating fried pickles was a life-changing experience. -Snooki (while in Savannah, GA)
I don’t go tanning tanning anymore because Obama put a 10% tax on tanning–but I feel like he did that intentionally for us. McCain would never put a 10% tax on tanning–because he’s pale and he’d probably want to be tan. -Snooki (while having self-tanner applied to her at home)
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Northwestern is a highly selective institution located in Evanston, IL...which is the north side of Chicago. I have already found a house I will be moving into the first of July, located in Wrigleyville, near Wrigley Field.
Now people have told me about the cold weather and cold hearted people and how I will adapt. To that I say, NO, I will be bringing a taste of the south up to good ole Chi-town! Polos, seersucker, the use of y'all, etc etc will all be packed nicely away for my travels north. I have a few months until the weather starts dipping below the 60degree line...so I have until then to beef up my winter clothing.
Wish me luck on being a real live adult. It should be an interesting journey, that you will definitely be included on....
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During the summer months, I continue to live in the building I served as a hall director for the past year. Though the buildings are usually empty during this time, mine will be occupied by orientations leaders, orientation students who choose to stay on-campus during the sessions and conference attendees.
This past weekend I bee-bopped down to the University of Alabama to see a friend who is interning there over the summer and my sister, who will be a junior in the fall. I returned to Columbia and the building late Sunday night to a crowded parking lot. It was at this point I realized freshmen orientation would be held the next day and students were most likely moving into the building for the night. I grab my (MTSU) suitcase and head inside. I have managed and lived in the building for the past nine months, so I know how to walk in the building in where to go...so for the record, I did not appear to be lost or questioning the direction I should be taking. As I walked through the first lobby, a group of three orientation leaders were sitting on the couches. I said "Hello" and kept walking. Before I round the corner to the elevator, I hear a girl yell from behind,
"HEY! Are you here for orientation!?"
I slowly turn around, look at the three girls who have decided to become excited about the prospect of meeting an incoming student, and said, "No. I am the hall director for this building."
It is fine. 18 and 23 years-old are the same. They were most likely thinking I was simply a non-traditional student coming for freshman orientation...
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As I am backlogging on my time directing a freshmen residence hall, there are multiple stories involving my "educational" conversations with students who have made decisions that are...not the brightest. There is one particular decision that jumps out involving a student I will lovingly refer to as George. You have heard the saying, "He is not the brightest crayon in the box;" I am thinking this one is a nice murky gray.
One month after the start of school, I am taking a quiet, relaxing stroll outside of the lavish residence hall. As I am soaking in the warmness of the Carolinian sun, listening to the birds sing their songs, and watching the squirrels play a game of jacks, I look up to admire the tall, luminous, cheerful residence hall structure. It is at this point I notice something out of the ordinary, something that seems to break the day that effervescenced with joy: George was standing outside of his dorm room (definitely not located on the first floor, mind you) attempting to build a porch. Now I am no engineer, but I was not impressed. He had even managed to bring out a school spirited bag chair and some PVC piping...which I assume were to aid in his construction of a safe and sturdy porch.
I quickly re-entered the magnificent residence hall structure, adorned with historically intricate and detailed architecture, circa 1971. I entered the elevator, with another passing breath as I noticed phallus symbols were not sharpee-d on that particular elevator at that particular time, to make my way to the floor. As the doors open sesame, I step foot onto the white tiled floor with the room directly ahead, in my line of vision. The door is open wide...which must have been opened so they could invite guests for a delightful afternoon tea on the porch, no doubt.
My tightly balled fist knocks on the open door. A little nugget of a boy pops his head from behind another portion of the room, sees me, has the "I just made a poopy in my pants" look, and quickly stammers "I told him not to do it!" I simply step into the door frame and ask the lil nugget if he could tell George to come back inside for a quick minute. He is happy to oblige. He squeaks out to George to come inside. George turns around and sees me through the mildly film-covered window and a look of terror passes over his eyes. It is obvious to me that the students do not know me at all...as terror and fear are the first feelings that pass over them when they see me- instead of the usual look of glee. However, I'm not complaining. It is natural to be intimidated by my demeanor and permanently scowl-adorned face.
Back to George, I ask him to come back inside. Now mind you these are no ordinary windows that he had to climb out. These are long windows that open from the top, and probably stop at my chest (I am 6'2''...if you don't know that, then you don't know me. And again, quit creeping on my blog ya creep-o)...so he had to get all monkey-like to manage his way in and out of his luxurious dorm room. As he was scurrying back into the room, I quickly had a passing fear that he would trip-up climbing over the window and plant face-first onto the tiled floor. Fortunately that did not happen...because then I would have had to clean-up blood and that would have taken even more time away from my leisurely strolling period. As his feet hit the room floor and he stands erect, I ask him, " George, what were you doing up there?"
"Building a porch," he doofily responds.
"George, you were building a porch," I ask. "Is this a good idea, George."
He spends a hot minute rolling his possible answer through his head, as I see the wheels spinning at slow-speed pace. "No," is what he finally decides to answer with.
"You're right, George," I reply. "You're right, it isn't a good idea. Why do you think it isn't a good idea, George?"
"Because, ummm...because we are high up," he says with a questioning tone.
"You're right, George. You are standing outside of your window that is not on the ground floor and you are building a porch. You could have fallen off and gotten hurt...and I do not want to make that kind of call to your parents. George, have you heard of the breaking the plane policy?"
He quickly responds with "No," as if he will be let off the hook with this answer.
"Well, George, it was included in the contract you signed at the beginning of the year. It says that nothing is to be thrown out of your room window. George, that includes bodies. George, that includes your body."
"Well, what's gonna happen?" he interrupts.
"George, I am glad you have noticed this wasn't the best decision to make a few weeks into school. I will give you five minutes to bring all of those materials back into the room..." He quickly spins around to leap out the window to retrieve his newly acquired porch furniture. "Hold up, George. George, if I ever see you outside of your window again, I will ensure that you are immediately removed from campus housing and given the opportunity to live in your own apartment with a real porch, ok? Thank you for the understanding, George. Y'all have a good evening."
A month later, during a phone conversation with a parent of George, it is told to me that he was simply trying to make his own space due to some roommate problems he was having.....
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So I have to mention a story that was picked up by some national news sources at the end of last week regarding Miley Cyrus and her thoughts on pursuing higher education. As you can imagine, it would be a huge PR opportunity for Miley Cyrus to mention what school she would be interested in attending. HUGE! All those lil tweeny nuggets would want to follow right behind her...even to North Dakota State University-Nashville?....
The 17-year-old singer-and-actress said: "I'm not gonna go to college right now. I am a firm believer that you can go back at any age you want, because my grandma went back to college at 62 years old."
Miley hasn't ruled out further studies all together, and has thought about copying her sister by going to North Dakota State University (NDSU).
She said: "My sister went to NDSU in Nashville, so I'd probably want to be there with all my friends." (article)
Miley hasn't ruled out further studies all together, and has thought about copying her sister by going to North Dakota State University (NDSU).
She said: "My sister went to NDSU in Nashville, so I'd probably want to be there with all my friends." (article)
My initial thought had me asking when North Dakota State opened a branch campus in Nashville, TN. I even had to Google it to make sure I wasn't completely out of the loop on something. I must ask you to do a little exercise:
- Out loud, say N-D-S-U
- Out loud, say M-T-S-U
- Repeat until you realize the mistake the media made in what would have been MTSU's biggest PR opportunity since Al Gore visited campus back in the early 2000s.
Even the popular entertainment site, Perez Hilton, stated NDSU. If we cannot count on Perez for the most credible and accurate information, who can we trust? Also, as stated by a friend on Twitter:
RT @mallorygrooms Dear Miley: We appreciate that you wanna go to MTSU, but we are in the Boro, not Nashville. http://tl.gd/1g0r8q
NDSU-Nashville: Be Loud! Be Proud! Be Blue!
(at least one source got it right)
I was talking with a friend the other day and the topic of Southern culture was brought up...and it got me thinking. What is the true definition of the South and a Southerner? Is it tradition; a friendly smile; a slow drawl; a polo on the chest tucked into seersucker rooted by Sperry's? Is it tradition; the amount of sugar in a cold glass of iced tea; the overuse of conjugated words, an appreciation for culture and the past? The Mason-Dixon Line geographically draws a line of where the North ends and the South begins...but it isn't about location or the use of a koozie; it is a mindset, a way of life...it is how you were born and raised. Let's be honest, Maryland, those Virginias and Florida are under the MDL...and that doesn't mean a thing, y'all.
On to a couple of Quotes...
Well, they're Southern people, and if they know you are working at home they think nothing of walking right in for coffee. But they wouldn't dream of interrupting you at golf.
- Harper Lee
Yes, sir. I'm a real Southern boy. I got a red neck, white socks, and Blue Ribbon beer.
-Billy Carter
She grew up on a side of the road
Where the church bells ring and strong love grows
She grew up good
She grew up slow
Like American honey
-Lady Antebellum, "American Honey"
All I can say is that there's a sweetness here, a Southern sweetness, that makes sweet music. . . . If I had to tell somebody who had never been to the South, who had never heard of soul music, what it was, I'd just have to tell him that it's music from the heart, from the pulse, from the innermost feeling. That's my soul; that's how I sing. And that's the South.
-Al Green
Do Southerners laugh at different things than Northerners do? Yes...Northerners.
-Roy Blount
- John Egerton, from "Southern Food, at Home, on the Road, in History"
In the South, the breeze blows softer...neighbors are friendlier, nosier, and more talkative. (By contrast with the Yankee, the Southerner never uses one word when ten or twenty will do)...This is a different place. Our way of thinking is different, as are our ways of seeing, laughing, singing, eating, meeting and parting. Our walk is different, as the old song goes, our talk and our names. Nothing about us is quite the same as in the country to the north and west. What we carry in our memories is different too, and that may explain everything else.
-Charles Kuralt in "Southerners: Portrait of a People"
The South--where roots, place, family, and tradition are the essence of identity.
-Social historian Carl N. Degler
Even if they've moved away, most people who grew up in the South still consider themselves Southern.
-Lillian Hellman
Growing up Southern is a privilege, really. It's more than where you're born, it's an idea and state of mind that seems imparted at birth. It's more than loving fried chicken, sweet tea, football, and country music. it's being hospitable, devoted to front porches, magnolias, moon pies and coca-cola... and each other. We don't become Southern - we're born that way.
-Anonymous
Things a True Southerner Knows
A Midwesterner's Thoughts on the South (including rules, definitions and thoughts)
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...watch Modern Family.
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As you may know (if you don't, then you don't know me. In that case, why are you being a creeper and reading my blog?), I have a special appreciation for the bow-tie. It is classic; it is timeless; it says "Hey! Look at me, I am dressed up but you can tell I am fun because I am wearing a bow-tie." I have only recently picked up this appreciation during the past several years...before I was plagued with the thought that only those men who I considered "female hygiene products" wore bow-ties. Oh, how wrong I was. Yes, it may be more popular in the South, but everyone should adopt our ultra cool ways and learn how to tie that little piece of timeless-ness around your neck.
THIS is how I learned to tie a bow-tie. I AM a Millennial, aren't I?
An article titled "Resurrection of the Bow Tie" that was sent by a friend today (and inspired my bow-tie tribute post)...and it is in the New York Times...so you know it is legit.
Finally, my Student Affairs and College Administration aspirations have furthered simply because of my bow-tie affection. HERE is an article from The Chronicle talking about college presidents who wear bow ties...and another ONE.
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Whoa...
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As I begin to close out my two years in Columbia, SC, I figure I should do a bit of highlighting and recapping. As my avid readers wait with excitement to read my recommendations each week (by each week, I mean I will post recommendations when I want. Because I do what I want. I'm grown.), I will be posting my personal faves from the Palmetto state's capital. This time around I'll focus on restaurants. Columbia has a good little selection of awesome restaurants, but I have narrowed down my personal top five for your reading pleasure. Read on lil nugget, read on.
5. Tsunami
5. Tsunami
The Asian inspired restaurant is located in the Vista area. The Vista is composed of several streets lined with all-brick buildings, a bevvy of restaurants and even more happy hour selections. I'm not a fan of sushi, which most people order at the "undersea volcanic eruption" establishment, so I am partial to the Grilled Chicken Teriyaki plate and the ginger dressing on the salad puts the....ginger on top.
4. Miyo's
Miyo's has a few different locations across Columbia (under names such as M Vista, M Cafe or simply Miyo's) but sticking with the Vista theme, M.Vista is my choice. You may be asking yourself, "Josh, why do you have so many Asian-inspired restaurants on the list if you don't like sushi?" To that I respond, "Because." Miyo's is similar to Tsunami....except better. Edamame for apps, one of the chicken and rice plates, you can't go wrong. You EVEN get a fortune cookie as your leaving....that's when you know you're in the right place.
3. The Chains
I can't talk about my favorite places to eat if I don't mention the tried and true. Those "chain" restaurants that are chains for a reason...because they're simply awesome. McCalister's, Moe's, Qdoba...they're all great (although McCalister's tops the list with pure ease).
Outside seating. Enough said. In Columbia, SC, I choose places to eat based on if they have outdoor seating (it is a trend for Happy Hours too...but that's for a later time). Any panini and the pesto pasta salad is my ushe (that was supposed to be the shortened version of usual...I'm not sure I like how that came out). Chicken salad, salads, hummus, sandwiches...the perfect lunch spot in 5 Points. Even better, it is only a five minute walk from my apartment.
1. DiPrato's
By far my favorite place in Columbia. This little "delicatessen" has a great lunch and even better weekend brunch. What they're famous for: warm pita chips and the pimiento cheese. You could not have a better appetizer...ever. I suggest the Vermont pimiento cheese, it is better than the original. The nugget of a place always has a variety of specials then the usual menu of salads, soups, sandwiches, etc. If I was not under the constraint of a grad school budget (which means I'm just rolling in the dough, right?), I would do all my grocery shopping here. They have cases of food, including anything and everything Southern. Shame on you if you haven't eaten here. You need to go...and take me (that means pay for me too, just to clear up the confusion).
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What is happening here?
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Me and my Spuddy (Katie)
aka winners of "Spuddies of the Year"
My program had our End of the Year banquet on Friday evening. The slideshow is awesome. People cried...which means it was a success, I guess. But since I have no emotion, I will simply recognize that it was sad.
"When I was a kid, the worst of all days was the last day of summer vacation, and we were in the school yard playing baseball, and the sun was down and it was getting dark. But I did not want it to get dark. I did not want the game to end. It was too good, too much fun.I wanted it to stay light forever, so we could keep playing forever, so the game would go on and on. That's how I feel now. Come on, come on. Let's play one more inning. One more time at bat. One more pitch. Just one. Stick around, guys. We can't break up this team. It's too much fun. But the sun always went down. And now it's almost dark again."
- Mike Royko on the death of the Daily News in 1978
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Today I received a reply email from a resident after I communicated that the floor would be charged for excessive damages to the floor. Below is the email in its entirety:
"That is hoarse shit"
Note: I know how to spell. He does not.
UPDATE: My reply to him:
Hi ########,
I would like to remind you that your email to me, a University employee, is automatically kept on record and is subject to review from the University. In future communication to any person(s), not just an employee, I would simply suggest a more professional email that contains well structured sentences and ideas. You are pursuing higher education and are able to articulate something more than the language included in your previous email. I would also suggest the use of spell check and ensure that homonyms are not incorrectly used in future communication. Please remember that my door is always open if you have further concerns.
Best of luck with your final exams and your summer travels,
Josh
I would like to remind you that your email to me, a University employee, is automatically kept on record and is subject to review from the University. In future communication to any person(s), not just an employee, I would simply suggest a more professional email that contains well structured sentences and ideas. You are pursuing higher education and are able to articulate something more than the language included in your previous email. I would also suggest the use of spell check and ensure that homonyms are not incorrectly used in future communication. Please remember that my door is always open if you have further concerns.
Best of luck with your final exams and your summer travels,
Josh
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Today I had a phone interview with a school in Indiana. The first question that was asked:
"Do you know we are above the Mason Dixon Line?"
Are y'all really....
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The stories.
Any person that works in University Housing can tell you, hands down, the stories are the best part of your work. You just cannot make it up. Case in point...
Last night, after leaving the drunkfest in 5 Points, it was reported a resident had a credit card stuck up his butt and was sent to the emergency room after, unsuccessfully, trying to remove the foreign object. I will not provide any further details...as they are even more disturbing.
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As you know, I am the hall director for a 480-bed freshman residence hall. I take great pride in the fact that my building, consisting of a 70% male population, consistently wins the award for most alcohol and policy violations. We have become total BFF with the university's judicial office. Anywho, my latest story can be found below:
While in class, soaking up all of the benefits of education and the legal system as it relates to higher ed, rocking on the edge of my seat in angst of what the teacher had to teach me next, I received a text from my supervisor that read like so:
"Oh, remind me to tell you about "pee boy" coming to look for us in the office to talk to us."
Your first question must be, "Oh, you have an office?" Why yes I do, is my answer. I have my very own office with a floor to ceiling window. Your second question may revolve around the fact that the term "pee boy" was used to describe a resident who came searching for me while I was out.
You may be wondering how I could work with a student that has such a nickname (given by us of course) and how sad it must be that this 18/19-year-old has a urinary problem (no, it is not a bed wetting problem, so don't feel sorry for him). This is where it gets sad. I quickly replied after chuckling to myself:
"Which one?"
You read that correctly. I had to ask...because we have more than one. For some unexplainable reason, it is easy for some students to mistake the building's lobby or their roommate's side of the room for a white, shiny toilet bowl. Oh, the joys of working in housing...
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Please wipe the tears from your eyes so you can read my first post in quite some time, as I apparently decided I needed a hiatus from this award winning piece of work (I gave it my own award). With 106 days left until I graduate from the University of South Carolina, I have decided I need to pick my bloggyness back up, because let me tell you, my job has definitely provided me a bevy (thank you grad school vocab) of stories that I need to record. You will be welcomed back into my life of grad school...you.are.welcome.
My final semester will be a hectic one. My supervisor has been promoted, leaving me to run my lil nugget of a building and all the 480 lil freshies on my own. I also have a great opportunity to work with the Greek Life office again this semester and also work with the Leadership office. I am thrilled about my new involvement...if only that little class thing wouldn't get in the way!
This semester also brings the program's Comps, everyone's favorite part of year (sorry, let me grab a rag to clean up those drips of sarcasm). February 19th will be the day that decides if I actually graduate the program with a fun comprehensive exam. Study groups have been formed. Flash cards have been made. Hairs have already been pulled from scalps. Team names have been decided. But most importantly: the group t-shirt is still underway. My team has chosen to keep our team name and t-shirt under wraps until Feb 19th...it adds a sense of mystery and curiosity, right?
Someone told me that I finally have to find a grown up job for when I graduate. So I guess I will be searching high and low for that...since la madre (keep up, I am obvi bi-lingual and that was Spanish for mother) has already informed me I will not be bumming on their couch because McDonald's is always hiring. Tough crowd. I will mainly be searching for jobs in the areas of fraternity/sorority affairs and first-year experience/new student orientation...the south, the west, the northeast..my options are pretty open!
