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Say no to 'the Joe'

Students should embrace self-definition and reject administration's nickname

by the S&B Editorial Staff

Most of us have encountered the middle-aged parent who avidly believes that raising the roof is still cool, or who "get out their dancing shoes" for the "Electric Slide" at weddings. Their enthusiastic attempts at being "hip" are endearing at first, but oh-so maddening over time.

Eventually, irritation exceeds the limits of tolerance, and all hell breaks loose. Let's just say that some serious shit is about to go down among students, middle-aged administrators and "the Joe."

We at the S&B want to apologize. Last week, on the front page, we parroted administration slang and ran the unfortunate headline "Catering to new needs at the Joe." The Joe. It's hard to think of a moniker so seductively simple, and still so unbelievably annoying.

We admit to perpetuating the shamelessly uncool nickname for the Joe Rosenfield '25 Campus Center. Responsibility for coining it, however, certainly lies elsewhere.

A simple Grinnell site search reveals that the term was first publicly invoked in the July 15, 2004 Laurel Leaf, announcing the groundbreaking ceremony for the Campus Center. "Scoop some grounds at ?the Joe'" the document ever-so-cleverly proclaims.

The implications of saying the "J" word extend far beyond questions of lameness. The administration has already regularly raised tuition in spite of student protest, stripped the student body of much of its self-governing power and allowed an arrest of a student for a Plans posting. Now, it wants in on our intimate conversations.

If French philosopher Jacques Derrida taught name-dropping Grinnellians anything, it's that discourse shapes identity. Mary B. James proves exactly what we're talking about.

Sure, the dorm began as a boring alum's name, but creative students turned it into the sponsor for the best cross-dressing ball in central Iowa.

Today Mary B. James embodies Grinnell's rebellious spirit. Students came up with the meaning and defined its style, so we feel a deep connection between the name and who we are. Or more simply, we're committed to something we helped create.

However, when we bring "the Joe" into our headlines or let it seep into our everyday conversation, we make it acceptable for administration propagandists to dictate our identity. We stop being iconoclastic activists, and start becoming docile wannabes who, well, don't mind the thought of scooping grounds at "the Joe."

Devoid of character, the administration's nickname is representative of Grinnell's emerging corporate culture. The John Chrystal Center may be convenient, but it's not charming like Mears Cottage. And student-controlled thermostats cannot cancel out the cold sterility of the East Campus dorms.

Finally, the Campus Center has the potential of ending up like a Super Wal-Mart, housing everything students need, but remaining an unpleasant attraction.

To pave a different way-our way-we have to own our campus and reclaim self-governance. Rejecting "the Joe" to form our own lingo would be a good start.

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