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It was a scolding long overdue.
Late last month, Marta Laureano
stood in front of Judge Samuel C.
Kiser, as he prepared to read his
verdict . Laureano had been brought
to court by her ex-husband who
wanted permission to visit his 5
year-old daughter.
During testimony, Laureano’s ex
husband had told the Texas state
district court that the only English
his daughter was learning was what
he was teaching her. Ms. Laureano
— bom and raised in Mexico —
admitted she used only Spanish at
home.
When handing^lown his verdict,
not only did Judge Kiser grant the
ex-husband visitation rights, but he
also ordered a teary-eyed Laureano
to “start speaking some English” to
her daughter.
“If your daughter starts first
grade with the other children,” Kiser
told the sobbing mother, “and
cannot even speak the language that
the teachers and the other children
speak, and she’s a full-blood
American citizen, you’re abusing
that child. You’re relegating her to
the position of a housemaid.”
Hispanic groups were outraged.
“The judge insulted people of
Hispanic origin or any other race
that speaks another language,” said
the editor of a Spanish-language
newspaper in Amarillo.
Kiser has since apologized to those
who found his words insensitive. But
he said his order still stands.
No apology needed, your honor.
Judge Kiser’s lashing was exactly
what was needed in America. It’s
too bad the slap didn’t come from a
higher court, but at least it signals an
awakening.
For too long, we have pandered
to the wants and demands and
ignorances of those who cannot , and
will not, speak the country’s
language. Last year, the IRS printed
a half-million tax forms in Spanish.
The cost: $113,000. In Los Angeles
County, $125,000 was used to print
election information in Vietnamese,
Spanish, etc.
The federal government now
Jamie Karl
...do we finally wise up,
and tell the neivly
immigrated and the
culturally proud, “Speak
English, or go the hell
back to where you came
from!”?
spends $254 billion on bilingual
education each year, as millions of
children in public schools are
mandated to learn foreign lan
guages.
Here at UNL, most students are
required to take a non-English
language class; some majors, like
journalism, can require 16 or more
credit hours in a single foreign
language.
This forced bilingual learning is
supposed to allow us “simple,
uncultured” folk to communicate, in
perfect harmony, with the increasing
non-English-speaking masses of our
multicultural population.
But the “intellectual elites”
setting educational policy are never
going to be able to keep up.
In 1993, the New York City
school system heard 185 languages
spoken throughout its hallways. In
Fairfax County schools in northern
Virginia, the students spoke in 187
different dialects. And one L.A.
school claimed that over 60 differ
ent tongues are spoken in the homes
of its students.
So what are we to do? Continue
to teach ourselves every form of
gibber — from Muong to Pashto?
Or do we finally wise upland tell
the newly immigrated and the
culturally proud, “Speak English, or
go the hell back to where you came
from!”?
A group called “U.S. English,”
headed by folks whose native
language isn’t English, is currently
lobbying Congress to declare
English as the official language of
the United States. The organiza
tion is being lauded by political
powers, like Sen. Bob Dole, and is
in the proposal stage of being
made law.
Many states, like New Hampshire
and Iowa, are taking their own
initiative having recently passed
English-language bills. (More
progressive states have had such
legislation for some time. Nebraska
declared English its official lan
guage in 1920;)
None of this is coming too soon.
Without such action, we will
become the world’s babble capital;
current trends suggest that by 2050,
there will be more than 43 million
Americans who cannot speak
English.
Fortunately, the message is
getting across: There is no better
way to break our national unity than
by destroying our ability to talk with
one another.
Here in America — a country of
so many ethnicities, so many races
and religions, so many cultural
barriers — English is our only social
adhesive. When a nation’s people
can no longer speak with each other,
they resort to non-verbal communi
cation, as they have done in the
Balkans.
Americans have few obligations.
The least new immigrants can do, no
matter what their homeland, is learn
how to communicate in their new
national community.
If we are to remain one nation
and one people, we need one
common language.
Comprende?
Karl is a senior news-editorial major,
and a Daily Nebraskan columnist
Center conducive to creativity
As an undergraduate, struggling
with nouns, verbs, and adjectives, I
often pictured writing labs as cold,
uncomfortable places filled with
frightened students cowering before
stem, unsmiling tutors who rapped
their knuckles every time they made
a grammatical mistake.
One of my undgrgraduate
professors at Carleton College was
famous for attacking papers with a
hole puncher until they looked like a
sieve. As a parting shot, he left a
little note, “Your paper is full of
holes!” Sometimes, he mailed these
little gems back to students in -
Ziploc baggies.
Students in that class walked
quickly past the Carleton writing
lab, fearing the worst. Just the sound
of that cold, mechanistic word “lab”
was enough to make them think they
might be the next experiment, held
dangling above a literary Bunsen
burner.
. Fortunately, I have found that
UNL’s Writing Assistance Center,
located on the first floor of Andrews
Hall, has no resemblance to that
hole-punching professor’s teaching
style.
The WAC here has comfortable
chairs, smiling instructors,
unmaimed students, and an enthusi
astic associate coordinator.
I walked in there last week,
trying to keep those painful hole
punching paper flashbacks at bay. I
was instantly enveloped in a warm,
relaxing atmosphere where students
could settle down to Writing
Without Fear.
. The Writing Assistance Center
accomplishes this minor miracle by
refusing to concentrate solely on
mechanics.
According to Sandy Yannone,
an English department graduate
student who accepted the associate
coordinator position this fall,
students gain more self-confidence
as writers when writing instructors
follow a holistic approach.
“We focus on the process of
Debra Cumberland
“We focus on the process
of writing, rather than
the mechanics, ” said
« Yannone. “We’re not a
proofreading service. ”
writing, rather than the mechan
ics,” said Yannone. “We’re not a
proofreading service.”
The Writing Assistance Center’s
success is obvious by the sheer
numbers of students who have
flooded through its doors since its
inception in 1990. The center
averages about 60 students a week,
from every department on campus.
“It’s a cool, comfortable place
where students can come in and
work on their writing. They bring
everything from poems and papers
to dissertations,” Yannone said.
Seven highly motivated instruc
tors are also part of its appeal.
“They are fabulous,” said Yannone.
“They do everything, from helping
students get started, to brainstorm
ing ideas and assisting with final
edits.”
The instructors I talked with
enthusiastically embraced the
Writing Assistance Center’s
philosophy.
“I really enjoy working here,”
said Jennifer Danes, a writing
instructor and graduate student in
English. “I especially like having
regular appointments with students.
You get to know them, and what
they are interested in working on in
their writing.”
Danes agreed with Yannone’s
views on grammar, noting that while
grammar is a concern for some
students, it’s not the writing center’s
main focus.
In addition to undergraduates,
both master’s and Ph.D. students
seek out the writing center.
“Oh, yes,” said Danes, when I
asked. “Lots of graduate students
come in to work on their disserta
tions. It helps keep them on a
regular schedule, and they want
someone to respond to their writ
mg.
ESL (English as a Second
Language) students are also regular
patrons.
Worawan Hemchayart, a gradu
ate student from Thailand who is
pursuing her doctorate in the
Teacher’s College, told me that she
meets with her instructor each week.
“I heard about the center in my
ESL class,” she said. “It’s very
helpful. I want someone to look at
my writing so that it goes more
smoothly.”
As if all these features weren’t
enough to send students racing to
Andrews Hall, the Writing Center
also publishes a chapbook of student
writing every semester, along with a
chapbook reading that is open to the
public.
“We also have great snacks
there,” said Yannone.
The Writing Center is located at
129 Andrews Hall, and is open
Tuesday through Friday. Evening
hours vary so you should check
beforehand.
Students can either walk in and
make an appointment, or call 472- -
8803.
So come on down.
I’ll be over there in the corner,
working on my column.
Cmnberland Is a graduate studeat in
English and a Daily Nebraskan columnist
guest
Rolin E. Lemmon
Violence to women
victimizes men too
There was blood on the door
when I came home from work.
Not a drop or a splash of blood,
but a distinct human hand print. I
could tell that there was some force
behind the making of the print be
cause of its absolute clarity.
Each individual swirl wasfinely
pronounced, and I could make out
the separate fingerprints and the
thumb.
I had unlocked the door of my
apartment every day for over a
year and this was the first time I
had ever had a reason to pause.
One out of four women in
America will be the victim of sexual
assault before the age of 25. But the
prevailing attitude among men is
that, “it won’t affect me.”
This is only true for those men
who have no contact with women
on any level. I f you have no mother,
no sister, no wife, no girlfriend and
no female friends, then you are safe
to assume that it has no bearing on
your life.
I knew that the hand print was
my wife’s. The door had not been
forced and I could feel that she was
inside and something horrible had
happened.
/ was not prepared for what /
found once 1 walked through the
living room door.
Mv dearest one, my wife, was
crouched in the corner of the room,
trying to hide behind the living
room chair like an alley cat caught
in the headlights of a car.
Her hair was matted with leaves
and dirt, her eyes swollen nearly
shut like a prize fighter after a bad
loss.
Her lip was split and the blood
had dried into a trickle around her
chin and neck.
The front of her shirt was tom
. away exposing her through the front
of her jacket.
41 shouted her name and ran to
her.
How many times have you heard
about violence against women and
did not react?
When a prominent member of
society is accused or convicted of
rape, sexual assault or harassment,
many men immediately look for
justification. We don’t want to see
the problem as something more than
an isolated incident.
When we, as men, ignore or
downplay the violence that is caused
or encouraged by our fellow men,
we are all to blame.
She saw me coming toward her
and screamed. She rose up, coming
at me with the fury of the insane.
She had a knife in her hand, and
was about to use it.
The first thing that I thought was
that the knife wasn 7 one of ours. It
was eight inches long, one of the
cheap yet wicked blades normally
found in hard rock souvenir shops.
I barely had time to block the
blow that would have driven the
knife into my chest.
I grabbed the hand holding the
knife and wrestled her to the floor
screaming, “It’s me baby, it’s me! ”
/ held her as tight as I could as
she screamed and cried in my arms
for what felt like years, but was
really 30 minutes or so.
She sobbed and repealed over
and over, “I thought they wanted to
help, I didn 7 know. I thought they
wanted to help, I didn 7 know."
“If you care about the
women around you,
don't allow the casual
attitudes about rape,
assault, and
harassment to
continue. ”
Rape and other violence toward
women is a disease to the body of
men as a whole. The disease cannot
be cured if we do not see it.
Like a disease, they should be
cut away from us.
We must not allow those who
have abused the physical strength ,
and advantages they possess to have
access to our sympathy.
She had been alone at a rest stop
a few kilometers out of town.
She normally took a short ride
on her motorcycle a fter her classes
to help clear her head after a long
day of lectures.
It was ritual with her to stop and
check her-oil at that same rest stop
everyday. People often would stop
and ask if she needed help.
This time when someone
stopped, theydidn ’task if they could
help.
Two men jumped from their car,
rushed her, knocked her down and
dragged her into the woods.
For jour hours she was beaten
and raped repeatedly.
One ofthem finally became lazy
or careless and dropped the knife I
had avoided when I found her. She
buried it hilt deep into the gut of
one of the men.
While he lay screaming and his
friend tried to help him, she was
able to escape, probably with her
life.
The despair, hopelessness and
rage that I felt at that moment, as I
held my broken and bleeding wife,
is what I want to pass along to any
man who has ever had a casual
attitude about rape.
Until that moment I had been as
indifferent as many men are. I had
never fully realized the evil and the
horror of such a crime.
I sat, sobbing and clinging to
her, and I knew thatmy world would
be forever changed.
hor her and me, the healing
would take a very long time, but
nothing would ever erase the fear
she carried with her—or the rage I
always feel.
Men, as well as women, are vic
tims of violence against women.
Our very nature dictates that we
protect and care for the people close
to us.
If you care about the women
around you, don’t allow the casual
attitudes about rape, assault, and
harassment to continue.
Stop sweeping the issue away,
stop supporting the people who want
you to believe that they are con
cerned, but then turn and give their
support to those who commit these
vile acts.
Cut them away from our society,
our sympathy, and our lives.
Lemmon is a Junior education major..
