The evolution of the ‘panty raid’

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 07/09/2010 (5744 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

When thousands of men rampaged through women’s dorms across the United States in search of undergarments during the 1950s “panty raid” fad, they were often met with a shrug or a cheer. “On most campuses girl students seemed to welcome and even abet them,” Time reported in 1952.

Panty raids would, of course, now be unthinkable, likely prompting harassment suits. No problem. Universities are actively promoting new distractions that young people apparently crave, but they call it “student life” or “university experience” or “being involved.”

University orientation weeks do include seminars on how students can succeed academically, but much of it involves concerts, socials, beer gardens and free food. First-year students might be forgiven for getting the impression that university is one big endless party, with course work being an annoying interruption.

Trouble is, the distractions don’t end after the first weeks of September. After orientation ends, student centres are filled with dozens, sometimes hundreds, of groups vying for students’ to join. They range from the strictly academic (philosophy clubs), to the political (Amnesty International), to the purely frivolous (anime groups).

Having outlets to develop networks and engage outside interests is beneficial. But these extracurricular endeavours are not simply treated as ancillary to coursework, but, rather, as the reason for being in university. University administrators, advisers, and student unions, rarely tire of telling students that in order to get the most out of school, university life must be fully experienced. Students must be involved.

When clicking on the University of Manitoba’s Student Life website, I expected to find the usual information about where to eat, where to shop, details about the city, that sort of thing.

It was an unreasonable expectation. Student Life is full of programs encouraging students to engage in political activism. For example, it advertises a program called PRAXIS, where students meet to discuss “social justice” issues and then work with the “community at large” to put “theory into practice.”

The University of Winnipeg’s Campus and Community Development Plan is pretty much a proposal to apply the idea of putting “theory into practice” across the whole university, and not simply under the guise of “student life.” At least they’re honest about it.

Students at the University of Calgary have the option to be issued a separate transcript listing all the student groups they’ve joined, the volunteer work they’ve done, and any other non-classroom activity that has kept them from studying. Most people would call that a resume.

The lingering question is where are students suppose to find the time? If students are taking their studies seriously, the combined time attending lectures, studying and writing essays should take up as many hours as a full-time job. Add to that an actual part-time job, to stave off poverty, and your average student should have little time to become engaged, at least not to the extent universities seem to encourage.

I don’t intend to suggest that universities don’t offer support for academics, because they do, but it is as if they are telling students, “We know you couldn’t care less about your classes, so here’s some arts and crafts to keep you occupied for four years. As for your grades, a B average is handed out with your day planners, so be sure to pick one up.”

What immediately provoked the panty raid fad was opposition to archaic rules that imposed curfews on students, and that prohibited males and females from entering each other’s dorms. More broadly, when universities fail to become aware of what their students are demanding, students tune out, or riot. It might be because of prudish mores or because university subjects are seen as boring or irrelevant.

Today, universities are overcompensating, attempting to provide students with everything they could possibly want or be interested in. The act of learning, of pursuing a degree, while nominally still the primary focus, is slowly being crowded out.

Carson Jerema is editor of Maclean’s On Campus.