Don't Paint Over UNC's Character

The restored Graham Memorial Hall opened its doors in January 2000 and houses the Honors Program, the Office of Undergraduate Research and the Office of Distinguished Scholarships and Intellectual Life, essentially making it the unofficial home base for student academic excellence on campus.

But since its opening, the oak-paneled downstairs lounge of Graham Memorial, with its sinfully plush leather couches and pillow-laden armchairs, has lulled many of UNC's best and brightest into an unconscious state.

As of late, officials at the James M. Johnston Center for Undergraduate Excellence, which is housed in Graham Memorial, have actively implemented a policy barring sleeping in the building's lounge.

But the stated motivations behind the policy are not entirely convincing. The party line is that the sleepers have been creating a "socially awkward situation."

James Leloudis, director of the Johnston Center, has said, "Many, many students indicated that they felt uncomfortable trying to talk to professors when the couches and chairs next to them were crowded with sleepers."

The official statements most likely do not paint the whole picture, however, as it is hard to believe that concern for UNC's public image does not play at least some part in the policy.

Graham Memorial constitutes one of the main stops on the campus tours that give potential students and their families a view of what college life is like at UNC.

Understandably, officials don't want students unconscious in a building that is supposed to represent a haven for academic excellence, but true college life at UNC is indeed the presence of students randomly sleeping in public.

Officials' concern for public image, often at the expense of portraying an accurate reflection of life at UNC, has cropped up on other occasions as well.

Take the new South Campus residence halls, for example. It seems a little convenient that the placement of the residence halls essentially shields the older, institutional high rises from view to any visitors passing through that area of campus.

The new buildings seem to be practically toppling over on to the sidewalks in order to create the facade that life on South Campus means attractive covered walkways, terraces and picture windows.

But institutional high rises is what life on South Campus is to most residents housed in the region.

And although it is not necessarily the most aesthetically pleasing aspect that UNC officials would want to boast about, it is a false impression to essentially sweep the high rises under the rug that is shown to visitors.

Perhaps one of the most base forms of UNC's publicity -- its brochures -- further perpetuates a false impression of UNC to outsiders.

The semi-glossy packets pumped out by the Office of Undergraduate Admissions are packed with pictures of campus life at UNC.

Granted, the look of UNC's student body is fairly homogenous. But noticeably absent from these pictures of student life are some major factions, namely the hippies, the street-style kids, the indie rockers or anyone with a style that reflects an alternative attitude.

Instead, the collection of pictures generates the idea that UNC is stocked with the non-threatening variety of clean-cut, well-groomed students.

Naturally, it is good public relations for UNC to put a best face forward.

But students enrolled at UNC don't go to an airbrushed, polished and touched-up version of a university.

They go to one whose campus is littered with snoring students, one that sticks most of its freshmen in housing that is dominated by brick and iron and one that has students who don't all wear collared shirts and UNC gear.

These characteristics are what give UNC its true personality and its distinctiveness. And although some students might have been lured to UNC by the glossed version presented to them, I would dare say most would not trade it in for the real UNC they attend every day.

Karey Wutkowski can be reached at karey@email.unc.edu.