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Furman Magazine Volume 55 Article 1 Issue 1 Spring 2012 4-1-2012 Furman Magazine. Volume 55, Issue 1 - Full Issue Furman University Follow this and additional works at: https://scholarexchange.furman.edu/furman-magazine Recommended Citation University, Furman (2012) "Furman Magazine. Volume 55, Issue 1 - Full Issue," Furman Magazine: Vol. 55 : Iss. 1 , Article 1. Available at: https://scholarexchange.furman.edu/furman-magazine/vol55/iss1/1 This Complete Volume is made available online by Journals, part of the Furman University Scholar Exchange (FUSE). It has been accepted for inclusion in Furman Magazine by an authorized FUSE administrator. For terms of use, please refer to the FUSE Institutional Repository Guidelines. For more information, please contact [email protected]. SPRING 2012 FOR ALUMNI AND FRIENDS OF THE UNIVERSITY Community Outreach: Reviving the Poinsett Corridor Page 22 Furman FOR ALUMNI AND FRIENDS OF THE UNIVERSITY SPRING 2012 Volume 55, Number 1 Furman magazine is published quarterly for alumni and friends by the Office of Marketing and Public Relations, Furman University, Greenville, S.C. 29613. Editor Jim Stewart Designer Roxanne Chase ContriBUTORS Stacy Schorr Chandler Kyle Longest Allen Mendenhall Vince Moore John Roberts Leigh Gauthier Savage Tom Triplitt Ron Wagner Editorial Assistant/ Nell Smith Class Notes Editor Editorial Advisory Tish Pearman Anderson Committee Randall David Cook Nancy Fullbright Sam Hodges Printing Hickory Printing Solutions E-mail [email protected] Telephone 864.294.2185 FAX 864.294.3023 © Furman University 2012 8 16 FEATURES 2 Beneath the Guard Tower BY ALLEN MENDENHALL Reflections on teaching a literature class in a prison, where Waiting for Godot takes on a whole new meaning. 8 The Quote Machines BY STACY SCHORR CHANDLER Josh Treviño ’97 and Ann Fitz ’99 can speak firsthand about the power of the pundit. 12 Finding Faith BY KYLE LONGEST Today’s young people value religion, but their spiritual mindsets are decidedly different from those of earlier generations. 16 Reshaping Student Life BY John roberts Upgrades planned for campus facilities are designed to create a life-changing learning environment for students. DEPARTMENTS 20 BECAUSE FURMAN MATTERS 28 ALUMNI NEWS 22 FURMAN REPORTS 40 THE LAST WORD 27 ATHLETICS COVER: About 700 students, faculty and staff volunteered their time and talents April 11 to launch a community-wide project designed to invigorate the Poinsett Corridor, the road between Furman and downtown Greenville. Photo by Jeremy Fleming. Wardens say that murderers make the best students. That’s because, most of the time, murderers kill By Allen Mendenhall out of heat-of-passion. Their crimes aren’t premeditated. Their minds aren’t flawed or evil. But the habitual offenders — they’re the ones to worry about. They can manipulate you. They’re professionals, even behind bars. I’m not saying their minds are flawed or evil — merely capable of sustained and concerted deception. I’m a prison teacher. I teach literature. In prison, literature The first day I taught in prison I was, as you might expect, Beneath the is currency. A book is a valuable unit of exchange. It’s bought anxious. I didn’t think I would be. I wasn’t anxious when I observed and sold, used as collateral, traded for sex. In the prison a prison class as part of my mandatory training — maybe because where I teach, many if not most prisoners are indigent. They I wasn’t alone then. shine shoes, make beds, beat up (or beat down) prisoners But I wouldn’t be alone on the first day of class, either. Kyes for nominal fees. Stevens, director of the Alabama Prison Arts and Education Project, The books and supplies I give my students are, like drugs was with me. She was to sit in on the first class, provide feedback, or weapons, contraband. Some supplies — pens, for instance — then release me from her gracious supervision. Guard Tower become weapons. I contribute to the system of abuse by provid- Kyes drove me to the prison that day. When I stepped onto ing goods that prisoners fight over. I do so because every class, the gravel parking lot, I didn’t want to look at the naked buildings. without fail, I sense that I’m helping someone, because the pens It wasn’t that I felt paralyzed under the panoptic gaze of the guard and books usually generate thoughtful and creative essays or towers, or victimized by the penetrating stares from the other side poems that the prisoners share with me. of the chain-linked, barbed-wire fences. I looked down because I do so, in other words, because the students seem to learn my pockets felt empty. They were supposed to be carrying my and reflect when I visit them. Not all of them, but enough. driver’s license. At least one student, each class, appears to have a text- I patted my front pockets, and then, realizing where I left my induced epiphany. I can tell because of what he says wallet — in the glove compartment of my jeep — I pretended and how he says it, or because he thanks me so to check my back pockets to delay the moment when Kyes would intensely, as if I might not come back next realize my mistake. week. If I can make epiphanies happen, It didn’t take her long. “You forgot your wallet,” she said. “Hang I’ve succeeded. here. I’ll talk to the chaplain. But you won’t be able to get in. We’ll have to drive back.” I watched her shuffle into the prison office. Feeling guilty, I looked down again — and noticed a dead frog on the ground. It hadn’t been dead long because its sides were rounded and fleshy and its skin still moist. Its eyes seemed to register my presence even though neither they nor I moved. I half expected a warble to issue from its tubby belly and thick throat, but it lay still, a heart-shaped object on an unattended blanket of rock. Suddenly Kyes returned. Relieved that my first class wouldn’t be today, I was ready to apologize and get back into the car. But she was smiling. My relief turned to worry. “We’re good,” she said. “Chaplain says you can come in. Just bring your ID next week.” “Good news,” I lied. We went in. istock photos 2 FURMAN | SPRING 2012 FURMAN | SPRING 2012 3 Wardens say that murderers make the best students. That’s because, most of the time, murderers kill By Allen Mendenhall out of heat-of-passion. Their crimes aren’t premeditated. Their minds aren’t flawed or evil. But the habitual offenders — they’re the ones to worry about. They can manipulate you. They’re professionals, even behind bars. I’m not saying their minds are flawed or evil — merely capable of sustained and concerted deception. I’m a prison teacher. I teach literature. In prison, literature The first day I taught in prison I was, as you might expect, Beneath the is currency. A book is a valuable unit of exchange. It’s bought anxious. I didn’t think I would be. I wasn’t anxious when I observed and sold, used as collateral, traded for sex. In the prison a prison class as part of my mandatory training — maybe because where I teach, many if not most prisoners are indigent. They I wasn’t alone then. shine shoes, make beds, beat up (or beat down) prisoners But I wouldn’t be alone on the first day of class, either. Kyes for nominal fees. Stevens, director of the Alabama Prison Arts and Education Project, The books and supplies I give my students are, like drugs was with me. She was to sit in on the first class, provide feedback, or weapons, contraband. Some supplies — pens, for instance — then release me from her gracious supervision. Guard Tower become weapons. I contribute to the system of abuse by provid- Kyes drove me to the prison that day. When I stepped onto ing goods that prisoners fight over. I do so because every class, the gravel parking lot, I didn’t want to look at the naked buildings. without fail, I sense that I’m helping someone, because the pens It wasn’t that I felt paralyzed under the panoptic gaze of the guard and books usually generate thoughtful and creative essays or towers, or victimized by the penetrating stares from the other side poems that the prisoners share with me. of the chain-linked, barbed-wire fences. I looked down because I do so, in other words, because the students seem to learn my pockets felt empty. They were supposed to be carrying my and reflect when I visit them. Not all of them, but enough. driver’s license. At least one student, each class, appears to have a text- I patted my front pockets, and then, realizing where I left my induced epiphany. I can tell because of what he says wallet — in the glove compartment of my jeep — I pretended and how he says it, or because he thanks me so to check my back pockets to delay the moment when Kyes would intensely, as if I might not come back next realize my mistake. week. If I can make epiphanies happen, It didn’t take her long. “You forgot your wallet,” she said. “Hang I’ve succeeded. here. I’ll talk to the chaplain. But you won’t be able to get in. We’ll have to drive back.” I watched her shuffle into the prison office. Feeling guilty, I looked down again — and noticed a dead frog on the ground.