But Senior Nick Napoli isn’t like most Eckerd students. For Napoli, a properly fit jacket, positioned pants and bloused boots (where the bottoms of his pants need to be tucked perfectly into his desert boots, so the tops billow out) are the key to a smooth afternoon–one free from yelling and punishments.

Napoli in his digital print army uniform. (photo by Elizabeth Tomaselli)

The lives of many college students are plagued with inconsistencies: experimental fashion and hairstyles, rotating class schedules, irregular meals and mealtimes and random all-nighters thrown in for good measure. Napoli doesn’t have any of these luxuries. “I always have to worry about being late…making sure my pants aren’t too low, my hair can’t be sloppy…and I can’t cross my arms,” he says.

Napoli is currently one of only two Army Reserve Officer Training Corps (ROTC) cadets at Eckerd, and as fourth generation military, consistency is in his blood.

A fourth generation cadet is not without inherited norms. Napoli is the picture of a true gentleman, opening doors for ladies, responding with genuine “yes ma’ams” and “yes sirs,” and is relentless in his pursuit of eye contact in conversation. He is a master networker–particularly at his recent military ball, when he not only knew each of his superiors personally, but was able to carry on meaningful conversations with each.

Second Lieutenant Alex Simpson, who graduated Eckerd last year after being a member of the army ROTC program, was also Napoli’s roommate. Simpson was actually assigned to be his mentor and Company Commander last year, when Napoli was a junior cadet in his most important year of ROTC training. “Nick possess the rare skill to remain calm and to make clear and concise decisions under extreme amounts of pressure–this will undoubtedly serve him and his soldiers well on the battlefield in years to come,” says Simpson.

He has a striking awareness of authority, of deference to elders, an unconscious knack for positioning himself to face an exit in any room he enters and an untainted understanding of his role in almost all aspects of his life–perhaps with the exception of “Catch Phrase,” a game in which arrogance consumes him.

Napoli’s days start at 5:30 a.m. five days a week, when The National’s “About Today” wakes him up for his morning ROTC physical training (PT). So early in the morning, the sky is just as still and dark as it was when he closed his eyes, usually not more than 5 hours prior. He’s got his morning routine down to a science, turning on the bathroom light in his Omega suite to dimly light his bedroom while he gets ready to avoid waking his roommate. “Waking up, and the drive, are definitely the hardest parts,” Napoli says. The drive is to USF St. Petersburg downtown, where the Suncoast Battalion’s Bravo Company gathers at 6:15 a.m. sharp for PT.

Monday through Friday about 25 cadets gather on the grass, damp with morning mist, on a dimly lit field. It will be another half hour before the sun begins to rise over the parking garage next to them. In a uniform of black running shorts, white socks and a gray shirt, ranks are only distinguishable by belt–seniors wear orange reflective belts while everyone else wears yellow.

As a senior, Napoli and his counterparts have more responsibility in the program. The ROTC program is designed to build leadership in intervals, culminating in a cadet’s senior year, when he takes on much of the responsibility of training the younger cadets, part of the process of training to be an officer and preparing to be a second Lieutenant.

In their freshman year, cadets learn how to follow, learn basic customs and courtesies, how to salute, when to salute, the U.S. Army creed and army values. Sophomore year, cadets learn more tactical things like how to be a team leader, and in their junior year, they learn how to be a squad or platoon leader, how to write an operations order and the differences between garrison environments and the field.

Now, Napoli helps lead the daily workouts and weekly briefings. “We’re like their coaches,” he says.

Napoli in his dress uniform before the military ball. (photo by Elizabeth Tomaselli)

As part of his duties, Napoli inspects formations before the cadets begin their stretches and calisthenics, and demos various exercises during PT. In one agility exercise, where cadets run to one end of the field and back, Napoli, 5’5, bolts ahead in a blur, leaving the younger cadets in awe as he clearly leads the pack as the fastest.

PT is usually a combination of running and various exercises, depending on the day. But they’re never just sit ups or relays, they’re exercises in loyalty and commitment, partnering exercises to rescue a fellow soldier, to transport a prisoner of war or to carry a child from a burning building. Every movement has a purpose, and these cadets know it, particularly as they are reminded that they are less than a month away from “mission complete” for spring semester.

For Napoli, mission complete means finally commissioning as a second lieutenant, something the fourth generation military cadet has been waiting for most of his life.

His great grandfather served with the Italian forces during World War I. When he emigrated to the U.S. and had children, his sons–one of which was Napoli’s grandfather–actually ended up serving in World War II, fighting against the Italians, their father’s homeland.

As if he’s recalling scenes from his favorite picture book as a child, Napoli adjusts, sits up on my couch and widens his eyes to tell me the stories of his family–hands motioning as only a third generation Italian’s could. “I’ve heard these stories since I was a kid,” he says excitedly.

Many of Napoli’s relatives died in combat and his grandmother’s brother was actually captured in Germany. After his miraculous escape, he made his way down to Italy and because he spoke Italian, the nuns took him. In the following generation, Napoli’s uncle served in the first Gulf War and his father, a Boston native, retired from the U.S. army as a full bird colonel in 2011 after 32 years in the U.S. Army.

These stories made for history books are all part of Napoli family history. Patriotism, service and leadership run in his blood, which is probably why he always knew he wanted to be in the army. “I’ve wanted to do this since I was born,” he says matter of factly, sitting on my balcony overlooking the water, the American flag from his balcony just next door waving in the wind behind us. “I remember living on post as a kid, marching around in my dad’s boots with a toy gun and his beret at the time.”

Napoli’s dad, while proud of his son for pursuing a life committed to defending his country, would have been supportive of anything he decided to do. It was his grandfather who really made the case to Napoli. Other than supervising games of army with his cousins when they were little, Napoli says “My grandfather’s always been a hard core military guy, as kids he used to give us all his old army gear for presents,” not as subtle as a hint and a wink.

But of all of the influences in his life, the exciting family history, his adamant grandfather, Napoli concludes it was probably his father who had the greatest influence on his decision to join the army. “My grandfather was more of an indirect influence on my decision…but I grew up seeing my dad in the uniform,” Napoli says.

He grew up with his father, a West Point graduate, always coming home in his uniform, and something about that–and his dad letting him play with his night vision goggles–really impacted him. While Napoli admits that throughout his childhood, here or there, the idea of becoming an astronaut or a pilot would infiltrate his brain, along with Batman, Spiderman and the idea of becoming a power ranger, “For me, it was always the military,” he says.

Napoli was born in Venezuela, and his childhood was just as nomadic as you would expect for a military family. Napoli’s mother is Venezuelan and his parents met while his father was stationed in Venezuela and his mom’s brother, who was in the Venezuelan military at the time, working with Napoli’s father, invited him to a family barbecue.

The family stayed in Venezuela for 6 months before moving on to Kansas. From there, they were sent to North Carolina—where his sister, Tina, was born—then moved on to New York, where his dad worked with peacekeeping at the United Nations for two years. After that they came to Louisiana, then back to Venezuela for a two-year stop before coming to Florida, where Napoli’s father worked for U.S. Southern Command.

Napoli blousing his boots. (photo by Elizabeth Tomaselli)

The family made another stop in Pennsylvania while his father studied at the U.S. Army War College and then spent Napoli’s high school years in Argentina before settling back in Florida permanently during Autumn Term of Napoli’s freshman year.

“Nick and I have always had a close relationship,” says Tina Napoli, Napoli’s younger sister. The Eckerd sophomore says because of their unique shared experiences–changing schools and living among different cultures–they relate to each other in a way no one else can. “The army has always been a huge part of our lives,” Tina says, “and now that Nick is beginning his army career, it really makes me and my family proud that he is doing something he has loved all his life.”

So if military was always on his brain, why choose the little liberal arts college by the sea? “Well, I knew I didn’t want to go to West Point,” Napoli says. “I knew I wanted to have some sort of college life. Especially an experience where I could do some sort of going abroad.” A liberal arts education was something Napoli had been thinking about, and it dropped into his lap when Eckerd actually came to his school in Argentina. Florida was also a likely location, since he knew his father was going to be transferred to Florida, where his parents would eventually settle down.

His father left for a tour in Iraq Napoli’s senior year of high school, but before he left, Napoli and his family came to visit Eckerd over spring break. “Not many people at Eckerd actually knew there was an Army ROTC program here,” he says. In fact, there hadn’t been an Army ROTC graduate since the 80s.

Napoli only really knew because he had seen Eckerd’s name on the list of ROTC schools. It also happened that Eckerd ROTC was a member of the Suncoast Battalion, one of the best in the Southeast.

Napoli contracted with the Army at the end of his sophomore year. Contracting, the formal process of actually signing the paperwork to commit to the U.S. Army, has become increasingly more difficult, particularly since 2009 when the war began to dwindle down and the surge looked to be working, deployments were less frequent.

Now, there will be tons of cadets that never get contracted, which means they don’t continue past their sophomore year, since all of junior year is spent preparing for LDAC, the month-long Leadership Development Assessment Course all cadets participate in the summer after their junior year.

Cadets spend most of their undergraduate ROTC career preparing for it. “It’s everything we’ve learned all packed into one and you’re assessed on everything. It’s really stressful,” Napoli says. LDAC, at Fort Lewis in Washington, is a monthlong training course. Everything cadets do there receives a score, including an E for excellent, S for satisfactory or N for needs improvement. Cadets are then given either an E, S, or N as an overall score. Napoli scored a high S but received a number of E dimensions.

To contract–particularly in a more increasingly competitive program, Napoli had to maintain a good GPA, pass PT tests and “just try to be better than most of the other cadets.”

Now a graduating senior, Napoli says his time at Eckerd has been just what he was looking for in a college education. The opportunity to study international relations and political science, and to go abroad for service trips, have been the highlights of his college career, one plagued with time constraints and scheduling conflicts.

Senior Nick Napoli. (photo by Elizabeth Tomaselli)

In addition to PT five mornings a week, cadets are also required to attend classes and briefings two days a week–many of which were held in Tampa before this year, when video teleconferences made it easier to set up satellite meetings at USF St. Pete.

Monday afternoon’s two or three-hour class is with command staff, where cadets brief on plans and updates and coordinate upcoming training events. Wednesday afternoon class is taught by the colonel, where cadets learn about being a lieutenant.

Freshman, sophomore and junior year, Napoli recalls he missed “an acceptable amount” of class, though he did still have to miss a number of classes for spontaneous briefings or even formal training trips. But, since he mostly knew his ROTC schedule in advance, he could plan his Eckerd schedule accordingly, even though this meant sometimes he couldn’t take the classes he wanted or even needed.

In fact, he was forced to change his major at the last minute. A continuum of scheduling conflicts and class withdrawals, a result of ROTC related attendance, meant that Napoli now had to pursue a political science degree, and not an international relations degree, in his last semester of college.

But now, as a senior leader in the ROTC program, Napoli’s schedule is a lot less predictable, and he’s had to miss a lot of class. And each time there’s an important exam or event at Eckerd he can’t get out of that might cause him to be late to a briefing, he has to submit a formal excusal form to ROTC.

Napoli says he’s always made an effort to alert professors ahead of time about ROTC related absences. “It’s hard to explain to a professor that I care about the class…and I’m constantly absent,” he says. Particularly some of his 8:20 a.m. required courses. Sometimes, training won’t end until 8 a.m., and if he’s driving back from Tampa, he won’t make it in time. “Mostly they were fine with it,” he says. “All four years here I’ve never had a single problem wearing a uniform in class. Everyone’s been really respectful.”

Of all the ROTC cadets in the battalion that come from other schools, Napoli and Senior Mark Head, the only two army ROTC cadets currently at Eckerd, have it hardest. Most schools like USF are larger and have more varied class options for students, particularly ROTC students, to choose from. When cadets have the option of taking night classes or online classes, they have less ROTC-academic related conflicts. However, Napoli and Head knew this coming into Eckerd. They were prepared for the conflicts.

While Napoli’s experience has been mostly positive, he admits that since ROTC has a fairly small presence at Eckerd, it’s hard for people to empathize with his conflicts. “Professors who I’ve only had once or twice probably just don’t understand the commitment,” he says. The same goes for some of Napoli’s classmates.

Simpson notes one of the hardest parts about being an ROTC cadet at Eckerd is the in-class discussions, particularly when talking about U.S. foreign policy and war–mostly in a negative light. “Students would make broad and uninformed assumptions about what was going on in those countries. In some cases even professors would depart from their unbiased role in the discussion to add their own opinion on the war,” Simpson says.

Napoli at 6 a.m. army physical training in downtown St. Petersburg. (photo by Elizabeth Tomaselli)

While Simpson does note that the discussions never got out of hand, he says, “It was very demoralizing for Nick and [me]. Knowing that in a few years time we will probably both be serving in those theaters of war. And not to mention all the friends we have that are serving there now–good honest people, who truly believe in defending their loved ones and fighting for freedom.” The disconnect, and the overwhelming negative opinions about soldiers fighting abroad, was upsetting.

Napoli echos Simpson’s sentiments. He recalls similar class times. “I’ll just kind of slouch down in my chair,” he says.

In his senior seminar course for political science, an in-depth look at the Vietnam War, Napoli often comes straight from his Monday briefings, sometimes still in uniform.

Amid student discussions of morality, American intervention and juvenile summaries of military tactics, Napoli sits diplomatically in his digital print Army combat uniform among a classroom of cargo shorts and flip flops while he calmly and sagely explains military process and methodology.

He is polished and composed sitting at his bare desk, only a one subject black spiral notebook and a sleek silver pen twirling between his fingers. When he disagrees, he sits quietly with his right hand laid over his left, using his right thumb to create a small, controlled internal morse code. When it’s his turn to make a contribution to the class discussion, an explanation of warfare and strategy in the Vietnam experience, the classroom seems to look to him as an expert of sorts, someone with unique insight. Unbeknownst to him, he is quietly revered by his classmates.

The support Napoli’s seen at Eckerd for his commitment to the ROTC program has come a long way from how the Eckerd community felt 35 years ago. The campus was plagued by student protests and heated faculty meetings in the late 1970s, when a newly minted Eckerd College was deciding whether or not to allow participation in the ROTC program and offer an academic course, introduction to military science.

An overwhelming two thirds of students polled by Eckerd’s then student newspaper, the Thimblerig, said they did not approve of Eckerd joining the ROTC program and the majority of faculty voted the same. According to an article in a November 1977 issue of the Thimblerig, Provost Richard Hallin thought ROTC acceptance at Eckerd would mean the community was doing its part to create more liberally educated leaders, wherever they may choose to lead.

“ROTC at a college such as Eckerd helps to insure that military leadership includes persons who reflect the values and the quality of competent, humane leadership which ought to be characterized by a graduate of Eckerd College,” Hallin said in an article for the paper, which he clarified expressed his personal views on the matter, and not necessarily those of the administration. “If colleges like Eckerd ignore or withdraw from this effort, the responsibility for developing leaders for the military will fall on institutions less capable of and committed to the concepts of leadership we espouse.”

After Hallin proposed the program to the Education Policy and Programs Committee and three forums were held to discuss the issue with the Eckerd community, it was ultimately Jack Eckerd, a supporter of the ROTC program and the man for which Eckerd College is named, who convened the Board of Trustees to deliberate the issue.

Despite the overwhelmingly negative response from students and faculty, the board eventually voted in favor of the program, citing “as a college community we are committed to do our part to help create a society in which we can live in peace…it is entirely consistent with our mission to facilitate the development of competent, humane leaders for the military as well. It is essential that the military have leaders who are liberally educated and committed to the values we espouse as a Christian college,” according to an April, 1978 issue of the St. Petersburg Times.

The decision even prompted theater professor and founder of Eckerd’s theater program Jim Carlson, to resign and print his resignation letter in the Thimblerig.

Napoli buttoning his dress uniform before the military ball. (photo by Elizabeth Tomaselli)

In 2013, Napoli says he has received lots of support from members of the Eckerd community. Napoli notes there have been many supportive people in the community, including Associate Professor of Management Frank Hamilton, an army ROTC graduate himself and also the army ROTC liaison for Eckerd.

“Dean Annarelli, Adam Colby, Miss Gibb in the registrar and Professor Hamilton, they’ve been a lot more aware of who we are. Coming to ROTC events, military balls and some training events. They’ve been there for us if we ever needed anything.”

Napoli will be commissioning in August, since Eckerd’s graduation date falls after the typical May commissioning ceremony, with plans to attend a basic officer leadership course in Missouri in November. He’ll train to become a combat engineer, an Army career path dictated by his Order Merit List score. The score is a summation of all different tests including physical fitness scores, extracurricular activities, GPA–the most important–and scores from LDAC.

The order merit list score matters. “That determines everything. What branch you go to, or whether you get active duty or reserves,” Napoli says. A cadet’s order merit list number could be anywhere from 1 to the number of commissioning cadets in the country that year. Many don’t get active duty, something that usually goes toward graduates of a military school, like West Point.

Napoli didn’t get infantry, his first choice, but he got his second choice, combat engineering, for which his newly fitted navy dress uniform bears a golden sandcastle looking pin on each lapel. If he can graduate from basic officer leadership training in April 2014 in a high enough rank in his class, he’ll be a member of the Sapper Unit–the historical name for combat engineers–and a platoon leader, leading enlisted men and women. The Sapper school is currently the only combat oriented school that allows women.

As a combat engineer, Napoli will be responsible for being on the ground before convoys or ground troops come through, constructing bridges, performing demolition and mine clearance, route clearance and search for improvised explosive devices, IEDs.

“It’s one of the most dangerous missions,” Napoli says. “They hit a lot of IEDs.”

As for the future of his Army career, Napoli says he wouldn’t mind maybe working in the Pentagon someday. “But as an officer, you always want to stay with the troops as long as possible. The last place you want to be is behind a desk,” he says, something that bothers his mother. “She’s horrified,” he says, at the prospect of her son being in the army. “She wanted me to be a doctor or something. She wanted me to travel, work with NGOs, the Peace Corps,” Napoli says of his mother. “But she’s proud of me and she’s always going to support what I want to do.” And what he wants to do is remain active as long as possible, because as long as you’re out there in the field, “you’re still one of them.”

Just one look around Napoli’s Omega suite is enough to assure anyone not yet convinced of Napoli’s loyalties to his country or to the U.S. Army. The military gear strewn about his room, the giant American flag posted off his balcony, blowing in the wind, the army bumper sticker on his blue Honda Civic and the army ID tag tattoo on the top left corner of his back are just a few of the more obvious tangible evidence. You’re really convinced once you talk to him; a clearly well kept, trained and disciplined young man who’s answering a call to duty, for his family and their history, and for his country

Simpson would agree. “Having being influenced by Nick’s commitment to the preservation of freedom and by observing him as a rising leader for the past four years, I have the utmost confidence he will be an outstanding Officer in the United States Army,” Simpson says.

Napoli at 6 a.m. army physical training in downtown St. Petersburg. (photo by Elizabeth Tomaselli)

At the conclusion of a welcome back ROTC briefing at the start of the spring semester at the University of Tampa, all of the cadets, contracted or not, rise and sing “The Army Goes Rolling Along,” while the words are shown on a main screen. And even though he’s hiding in the back corner, after coming in a few minutes late, he steps together, wills his shoulders down his back, lifts his head nobly–not to look at the screen, he knows the lyrics by heart–and proudly sings along.

No one can see him. In fact, I’m not even sure anyone can hear him. But that’s not the point.

Stalls selling everything from nougat to baskets of fat strawberries line the cramped alley of the medina’s food district. A calico cat in front of a meat stand stares eagerly up at a hunk of raw flesh on the counter. Just across the way, another meat vendor displays two camel heads hanging from hooks, an indication of how fresh the cuts of meat were.

I’m with my friends, Stan Phanord, an American from Boston, and Loubna Taleb, a Moroccan girl from class. We wander through the crowded alleys in search of the clothing district for scarves. Stan and I stick out like foreign thumbs, of a non-tourist experience. As young women, though, Loubna and I stick out doubly. Fes, one of the oldest cities in Morocco, is also one of the most conservative. Just being a woman in public draws looks. Anything revealing would bring more unwanted attention from men than usual.

Loubna has dressed down significantly for the occasion. Save for a bit of smudged kohl on her eyes from the previous night, her olive skin is free of the usual makeup and bright lipstick, causing her to blend in with her lumpy caramel sweater. Opposed to actual jeans (“I try to get away with not wearing real pants as often as possible,” she told me once), jeggings cover her lower half and disappear into brown ankle boots. The only trace of her usual glitz is the rhinestone on her right lateral incisor—a gift from her dentist when she got her braces off at 14.

The medina is a maze with no rhyme or reason to it. Loubna has only been to Fes a few times before, but her confidence in navigating the erratic streets puts me at ease. Dodging occasional carts led by mules, we pause here and there to have her explain skin whitening treatments or how to use black soap and an exfoliating hammam glove. Moroccan society is heavily beauty-focused, she tells Stan and me, and soft, light skin is preferred.

After an hour, we take a random turn up an alley hoping to get closer to the clothing district. Instead, we’re dumped into the technology quarter—a space dominated entirely by men.

“Hold your belongings close to you and watch your pockets,” she says under her breath. She puts her head down and walks quickly through the throng of people, turning sideways to avoid passersby.  I pull my bag close to me. Stan, bringing up the rear, shoves his hands in his pockets as we huddle together past with cell phones and gadgets. On either side, hisses in Darija, the local dialect, find their way to Loubna as we push past the men.

“That man just said he would eat me with my clothes on,” she translates.

Men standing along the edges of the crowded passage exchange sly smiles and nudge one another.

“That one told me I am the queen of beauty,” she says laughing. “It’s ridiculous.” A few turns later, the three of us pop out into the clothing district.

This is one of my first experiences with such consistent and overt sexual harassment in Morocco. By the time we cram into a taxi again, I’m exhausted physically and mentally. Unlike in the U.S., there isn’t a law against sexual harassment in public spaces, only in the workplace. As the taxi pulls up to the Al Akhawayn University in Ifrane (AUI) campus, I feel an immediate sense of relief.

Comparable to Eckerd’s acreage and student body, AUI is a small public school with around 1,800 students. A call to prayer reverberates from the campus mosque’s minaret across the pointed red roofs of the campus buildings and dorms, which match the surrounding resort town of Ifrane, Morocco. Just across the way is one of King Mohammed VI’s palaces.  Said to be “Leader of the Faithful,” he is the son of Hassan II.

Unlike other universities in the country, AUI is considered an “American” university. It is modeled on the American liberal arts model, meaning it’s a residential campus (the only one in Morocco) and all classes except for language courses are taught in English. It is currently a candidate for accreditation by the Commission on Institutions of Higher Education of the New England Association of Schools and Colleges (NEASC).

Its uniqueness, much like at Eckerd, creates a bubble effect. While it still reflects the greater Moroccan culture, it’s one of the more liberal campuses in the country. On a warm day, girls can be seen in shorts and skirts, generally considered inappropriate in public places, and aren’t subject to cat-calls by men. Unfortunately, AUI doesn’t fully escape the patriarchy beyond its fences. Sexual harassment toward women is still experienced on campus but is not commonly reported.

One night a few weeks earlier, Loubna and I were walking down to the campus café to meet some friends for an evening downtown. It was still early in the semester, which means it was about 40 degrees outside. We were bundled up in snow boots and parkas, determined to get down to the lively hangouts off campus. As we passed one of the boys’ dorms, a male student crossed in front of us, glancing briefly in our direction before continuing on down the path. Loubna froze and clutched my arm as he turned his back.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” she whispered, rigid. “I have to tell you something.”

We made our way to the café slowly to avoid running into him again. That guy, she confessed, was the one who had assaulted her after significant sexual harassment last spring.

Unlike greater Morocco, AUI has written policies against sexual harassment. According to Vice President for Student Affairs Cherif Belfekih, only about three cases per year are reported. All go to disciplinary sanctions, he said.

“[Girls] don’t talk about it at all,” President of the Feminist Club Atar Derj said. “The problem here is not only sexual harassment. But there is a big number of girls who are suffering from violence from their boyfriends, and this is the problem. They do not say anything about it, they do not complain.”

One reason is the taboo of dating in Moroccan culture. For many Moroccans, the progression of a relationship begins with attraction and skips to officially boyfriend-girlfriend exclusivity as a first step. In this stage, the couple gets to know one another on dates, and in more conservative families, dating is seen as a likely segue to marriage. Especially for girls, dating around casually can be seen as shameful. Admitting to sexual harassment or domestic violence, in many cases, would be admitting to having a boyfriend their parents likely don’t know about.

Derj said many women don’t know that sexual harassment doesn’t have to be physical. To clarify sexual harassment, the AUI student handbook dedicates a paragraph under student conduct. Though the school was established in 1995, 2003 was the first year a sexual harassment clause was included.

AUI defines it as “unwelcome sexual advances, requests for sexual favors and/or other unwelcome verbal or physical advances or conduct of a sexual nature which creates an intimidating, hostile or offensive environment.” Included under this is “whistling, comments or gestures of a sexually offensive nature aimed at another person, subtle pressure or requests for sexual activity, persistent unwelcome attempts to change a professional relationship into a personal relationship, requesting or demanding sexual favors accompanied by an implied or overt promise of preferential treatment, unnecessary touching of an individual” and “sexual assault or battery as defined by the laws of the Kingdom of Morocco.” No other section of the handbook elaborates on sexual misconduct.

If a student experiences something of this nature, she is encouraged to report it to Belfekih, who has held the position for nearly 14 years. If the student wishes to pursue a disciplinary case, Belfekih advises how to start the process. Loubna had taken him up on this, but found it was not an easy process.

A few days after Loubna confided her secret with me, she agrees to meet me back at the café to talk about her experience. The café is bustling and loud—crepes are being served. We take the only available table next to the register and order tea. Our conversation is muted by the cacophony around us as students flock to the midday chocolate smell of crepes.

I bite into a croissant. Loubna checks the café to be sure he isn’t nearby. Satisfied, she takes a sip of sugary mint tea, a staple of the Moroccan social experience. Earlier in college, she says, she dated a boy for a while and regularly hung out with his friend group, including her future assailant—his best friend. She wasn’t friends with him, she says, but they knew each other.

After she and her boyfriend broke up, his best friend began pursuing her via Facebook. For weeks he used friends to gather information about her to create things in common to talk about, asking her to go out with him and spend time with him. She declined several times. He continued to pursue her, collecting updates from his friends on where she was and what she’d been doing the previous night. And then he attacked her.

“I can’t talk about it much,” she says, her mouth rubber-banding into an uncharacteristic expression of pain. “Every time I talk about it I cry.” Nervous, I turn around in my seat to see if he has walked in, but we are still clear. After a bit of coaxing, she agrees to tell me what happened.

That night, she says, it was 10 or 11 p.m. on an empty stretch of campus road. Minutes before, the boy pursuing her pulled her over outside the café, upset she hadn’t accepted his advances. She said she didn’t want anything to do with him and he yelled at her. That’s when she took off running. Back on the empty stretch of road, he caught up with her, directly across from a dorm with windows facing the scene. Resuming the argument, he pressed her again. Tension escalated even as several people passed them, unaware or ignoring the scene.

Then he began hitting her.

“I was screaming and calling “Security, security!” she says. “Some girls who live in the building did see things through the window, [but] they didn’t call security. They didn’t help me, they didn’t do anything.”

In Moroccan culture, it’s common not to intervene in a perceived domestic situation. The belief is that what happens in the private sphere is not the public’s business. Even a woman being beaten by her husband could be offended and embarrassed if someone intervened on her behalf.

Eventually, though, security did come. A male security officer arrived on the scene, but the language barrier between him and the assailant was immediately hindering. Her assailant is from a Francophone African country and spoke French, which the guard struggled with. Demanding his ID, the officer attempted to take control of the situation, but her assailant denied any wrongdoing and refused to give his ID. He walked away.

Loubna describes the scene. “’I’m talking to you, I’m talking to you!’” the guard shouted. ‘Monsieur, monsieur!’ The assailant was not pursued.

Shaken and crying, Loubna accompanied the man to the security office on campus where they took down her account of the incident. All security guards present were male, though there are four female security guards employed.

“They were nice to me,” she recalls. By now, the line at the crepe counter has grown.  Loubna seems fairly kept-together so far. Her voice is steady, eyebrows pulled together.

She continues her story. The guards, she says,were the only nicety she received throughout the disciplinary process. The next day she went to the police station in Ifrane to report the assault and pursue legal consequences. She was told to come back the next day—there was no one to take her complaint.

She returned the next day and an officer was present to speak with her. As she was telling him what happened, the phone rang in the hallway next to them. It was his supervisor. Loubna presumes he was being yelled at for not being present the previous day when she stopped by.

“I think that he didn’t like the fact that I created a problem for him,” she says, “so he was talking to [his boss] and he said, ‘Oh, I don’t even know why this slut is here.’”

Incredulous, she opened the adjoining door and gave him a look to let him know she was there and could hear what he was saying, but nothing more severe than that.

“Here, the police have a tremendous amount of power,” she says. “Basically they can put me in jail for not collaborating or insulting an officer while doing his duty.”

Finally, after a while on the phone, he sat her down for an interview about the incident. First question: What were you wearing? Second question: Did you have any type of relationship with him?

“I said no,” Loubna says. “He was like, ‘Are you sure?’”

After more questioning, the officer told her he couldn’t do anything because it happened on campus. Campus security is responsible, he said. Pressing him, she insisted that it still happened in Morocco, and as a Moroccan citizen, she had the benefit of the law on her side. He relented.

“Was there any blood, do you have physical damage?” she says he asked. “I was like no. And he’s like, ‘What are you doing here?’ Complaining! It’s physical harassment, it’s violence!”

Compounding the situation was her lack of witnesses.

“What are you doing here?” she remembers him asking. “No witnesses, no evidence, no blood. What do you want me to do for you?”

Eventually they got down to what he could do. The officer instructed her to gather her friends and convince them to witness for her, even though they hadn’t seen the incidents—she’d need someone going to bat for her. Additionally, no bruises, no blood, no foul. She would need a forged doctor’s report indicating that she sustained physical damage from the incident.

“Even with that, I’m not sure that anything is going to happen [for] you,” he told her. He assured her he would contact the university about the incident, and then contact her assailant’s embassy to file a complaint.

“If you want to go through the system,” he told her, “it can take years for this thing to go to trial. And then they’re going to make fun of you, nothing happened to you. This is nothing in comparison with other things.”

She never heard from the police on the matter again.

Now, her lips are pursed. She shakes her head in what seems like tired anger, something she often did throughout the semester when speaking about injustices in the Moroccan system.

The next step was to pursue disciplinary action through AUI. At the direction of the student handbook, Loubna says she consulted Belfekih on how to start a case. The process, he would tell me in a later interview, begins with the victim coming forward to file a complaint. When astatement of their account of the event is submitted to Belfekih by email or hard-copy, the sexual harasser is asked for a statement. Witnesses for both sides are then gathered along with evidence, though Belfekih will tell me that witnesses are not needed for every situation. Following this, a disciplinary hearing would be held one week after the initial complaint was submitted.

Loubna’s experience, however, wasn’t as streamlined. On hearing Loubna’s complaint, she says, Belfekih attempted to dissuade her from pursuing charges, saying that 99 percent of people drop their charges anyway.

“I’m going to be the one percent,” she says.

Later, when I sit down with Belfekih I can’t ask specifically about Loubna’s case without revealing her name. Belfekih will deny denies ever discouraging a victim to pursue a case, saying doing so would be “totally irresponsible.” He acknowledges a victim’s friends might try to dissuade her, however.

For Loubna, a month passed after she submitted the initial report without contact from the school on the matter. Upset at the progress, her father called on her behalf and threatened to take her out of AUI if the administration didn’t continue the disciplinary process. Her family, she said, is fairly liberal, and was supportive of her pursuing disciplinary action. Finally she received an email—the hearing would be held soon.

The committee she presented her case before was comprised of two administrators, two student government representatives, a counselor (Director of International Programs Amy Fishburn would take the counselor’s place if an international student was the victim) and Belfekih as the chair. Ideally, Belfekih said during our interview, one of the administrators would be female, as would a student government representative and the counselor. All members are appointed by the president of the university.

Loubna’s committee was not as female heavy. All except the counselor and Fishburn were male, and Fishburn was present on behalf of her attacker, who was an international student. Despite Belfekih’s ideal representation, both members for student government were male. One knew Loubna from classes and spoke to her before the trial.

“He told me, ‘Do you have nightmares? Mention that you have nightmares,’” Loubna says taking a sip of her tea. A line waiting for crepes covered in chocolate syrup wound around three sides of our table, but she seemed comfortable continuing. The queued patrons didn’t seem to notice we were there. Not only should she mention bad dreams, she says, but if possible, she should cry.

Apparently, all sides acknowledge that crying can help a case.

“I know objectively it’s not supposed to,” Belfekih will tell me during our meeting, “but I know that emotionally it does. We’re asking people to judge based on evidence and in their best judgment. We’re not a court of law where you have to say even if there is no evidence and you think this person’s telling the truth, we’ll take a sanction. Particularly when it comes to protecting students who are not strong or need protection, the committee prefers to air on the side of the victim.”

In past years, victims of sexual harassment were advised by the Sexual Harassment Task Force led by Karen Smith. The group was created in response to a violent rape of a faculty member off campus in 2000. After sending a survey out to students and finding the majority of girls at

AUI had been sexually harassed or worse, the group was created in 2001.

“We know that young women need advocates,” Smith said, “because they’re not going to be able to stand up for their own rights, so we’re going to be their advocates.”

The group was mostly female faculty and staff members. They were not meant as an alternative to the administrative process, but rather a more comfortable starting point for girls who didn’t feel comfortable going to a male administrator. Since the creation of the on-campus counseling center and various related clubs, the force disbanded.

On the day of the hearing, Loubna took her seat around a conference table near Belfekih’s office. She requested not to see her assailant, and they were brought in separately, as is protocol. Then questioning began. It was a similarly accusatory process as the police station, Loubna remembers, with many of the questions making her feel as if they doubted her honesty. They went as far as asking why she didn’t like him.

“I can’t talk about my love life or my sexual life with them,” she tells me, noting the cultural taboo of discussing such matters with one’s elders, especially males. “It’s intimidating, and it’s not right.”

Loubna’s eyes dart to her Marc Jacobs stainless-steel watch as the line around us inched forward. She has a class in 30 minutes. Flecks of drizzle cling to the café windows, clumping together to hurry down the panes.

During my later interview with Belfekih, he said the questions are not supposed to be invasive, but admits there is no sensitivity training for any of the board members. A female counselor who is no longer at the school used to brief the board on such matters of her own volition. Before our meeting, though, Belfekih had no plans to implement formal training. He paused our interview to note it on his tablet as an “urgent task.”

Though sexual harassment here is heavily gendered, men are also negatively affected by it. A male friend of three years recently told Loubna he was greatly offended the first time they interacted outside of school before they knew one another. Loubna was sitting on a train station bench in Meknes, an hour away from Ifrane. As soon as he sat down next to her, she instinctively got up and walked away.

“We internalize this fear [of men],” she says. “I didn’t even see his face, didn’t know who he was, I just stood up as soon as he sat down. It must be terrible for them, I felt so bad [when he told me].”

That fear was exacerbated at her hearing. Loubna says neither woman who was present asked her questions or spoke to her, adding to her intimidation. Belfekih said a little-known option not advertised is that students have the option of being heard by an all-female committee if they request it. But only in the case of rape.

“In a case of rape or date rape or an intimate thing [students can be heard by an all-female committee],” he said. “We don’t feel that being harassed prevents you from talking to men. We may be wrong.”

The committee, according to Belfekih, has never had a case of rape come before them. The most common sanction given is a 60-meter no-contact agreement for the remainder of the aggressor’s time at AUI, and the greatest is a semester suspension. Loubna’s case ended on the more aggressive side of sanctions, giving her assailant a semester off and a no-contact agreement.

Back in the café, Loubna brings her tea to her lips slowly. I finished my cup after the first five minutes, but she, like many Moroccans, treats tea almost as part of the conversation, sipping occasionally.

The victory was short-lived, she says. That summer, she received an email from AUI. Her assailant had appealed the decision with the president, and the administration wanted to know if she would drop the charges. She replied that she did not intend to drop the charges. Shortly after, she received a call to come to AUI for a meeting, and she and her father traveled from Rabat to AUI to meet Belfekih in person.

Appeals, Belfekih will tell me, can be submitted to the president within 48 hours of sanctioning. The president has the power to commute any sentence, and takes into account any personal situation the aggressor is experiencing.

“It depends very much on the president,” Bel Fekih said. “I’ve worked with two presidents now and they have different styles. I think this president more than the one before looks at the environment of the student. So he will tend to be a little lenient if the student is going through a difficult time or has a terminally ill parent or anything that would justify some kind of misbehavior.”

Clarifying, he said he was speaking about disciplinary cases in general, but went on to say, “I think what applies to just sexual harassment can apply just to other cases. In theory, the president has a right to exercise a leniency.”

This leniency featured prominently in her assailant’s appeal. Loubna’s conversation with Bel Fekih was spent with the administrator defending her assailant’s petition. He implored her to consider the attacker’s situation: he’s from another culture and is here as a guest, he doesn’t know how to behave, he was clearly frustrated, he’s young, he lost his mother when he was a child, there’s war in his country.

“How is this relevant to my case?” she remembers asking. “The war in his country or the fact that he lost his mother?”

Please forgive him, Loubna says Bel Fikeh asked her. “You should have a big heart,” she remembers him saying. “You should forgive people.”

“Do you know anything about my situation?” she says she asked him. “What, I’m a happy Barbie and I grew up with bubbles and candy everywhere and nothing bad ever happened to me? You can’t forgive someone just because there is a war in his country.”

Her assailant, she says, was given a summer semester off. She was told he had to attend an anger management program and on-campus community service, in addition to the no-contact agreement. When asked about commuting sentences in general, Belfekih denies the possibility of a summer sanction without a following fall semester off.

The following fall semester, however, the two had a night class together and had to sit in the same room. Though she asked he be removed from class, he was not because it was the only section offered. Belfekih referenced a similar case in our interview.

“The student was suspended for a semester already,” he said. “So we feel that he has almost paid his due to society, and if you penalize him again you’ll be putting him back. And he understood the lesson. I mean, he wasn’t a rapist or anything.”

Still, the 60-meter rule is rarely followed, and her assailant regularly ends up in the same line for food. If ever they pass too closely, Loubna says he shoves her with his shoulder, but because she has no witnesses, she doesn’t feel that she can go back for help.

Outside the café, the drizzle has turned into light rain over the course of our conversation. Loubna bundles up in a waterproof parka as I pull out my umbrella to walk her to class.

“They keep telling us that they’re preparing us to be the future leaders of Morocco,” she says. “I mean, if you want to be a future leader of Morocco, make sure that your girls, the female professors and students, are safe. How are you going to be a leader if your whole life you’ve been sexually harassed? You’re going to be intimidated all the time.”

We step under an overhang in the academic quad. Loubna’s waterproof parka repelled the rain to keep her dry, but her reddening nose tells me she’s just as cold as I am. We exchange a quick double kiss on the cheeks to part. Shaking off the droplets that cling to her jacket, Loubna pushes off her hood and walks inside the building. I pull my umbrella closer, heading back out into the steady rain.

During this season of celebration and graduation, Eckerd decided to not only honor its graduating class but also its many pets in Fox Hall May 8. Dogs, cats, rabbits, snakes and birds took the stage with their owners to be honored by Dean James Annarelli and Rev. Elizabeth Shannon.

Senior Erica Lindburg with her bird Kiki and snake Chatu except their diplomas from Dean Annarelli. (photo by Hailey Escobar)

One of these owners was Senior Erica Lindburg with her bird Kiki and snake Chatu. Linburg heard about the event through an email sent out by pet council. “It was awesome,” Lindburg said. “Kiki had so much fun. Chatu, not so much. Kiki was screaming the entire time. She was having a great time.”

Hannah Feigin, the 2012-2013 director of pet council, called out the names of each pet, and was one of the masterminds behind the event. “We thought because Eckerd is unique in the way that we have pets here, then why not honor them in some way, in the same way, that we get honored on the 19th,” she said. Feigin also welcomed the pet cuncil director for the 2013-2014 year, Alex Fenn.

The event had about 15 pets that received diplomas and snacks to take home. After the ceremony, refreshments were given out including pet friendly cake. After the event came to a close, Annarelli said,“I thought this was a wonderful way to celebrate the importance that companion animals play in the lives of our students here at campus.”

A significant number of you indicated that you would rent the truck for far more than just moving on and off campus at the beginning and end of the semester. Thus, after several months of negotiations, U-Haul recently announced that starting in the fall, they will add a Ford F-150 to Eckerd’s fleet.

The goal is have the Ford F-150 before Aug. 30. The truck will have a bench seat to accommodate three people and an eight-foot bed to make it easier to transport many items in one trip. Rental rates start at $4.95 an hour plus $0.79 per mile or $11.50 per hour including 180 miles. To rent it out for a full day including 180 miles will be $82.00.

To reserve a car or join the program, visit www.ucarshare.com and start sharing. Sign up with promo code ‘Evan’ to join for $15 and receive $20 in driving credits immediately.

The first game of the double header May 5 started out well for the Tritons, as starting pitcher Zach Hoppe held the Buccaneers scoreless in the top of the first. Eckerd then took the lead in the bottom of the inning when outfielder Mike Vavasis hit a two-out, two-run double, scoring outfielder Shane Bishop and corner infielder Lee Spinelle.

Freshman Nick Hill fires a pitch against Barry University. (photo by Ethan Cooper)

The score stayed 2-0 until the third inning, when Barry tied the game on a sac fly and an RBI groundout. However, Eckerd got those two runs right back in their half of the third inning when Vavasis hit a two-run homer.

Barry was able to come right back and tied the game 4-4 with two runs in the top of the fourth inning. After Eckerd was retired in order in the bottom of the fourth, Barry scored again in the fifth inning, giving them a 5-4 lead.

That lead wouldn’t last long though, as first baseman Chris Hanson put Eckerd back on top 7-5 with a three-run homer in the bottom of the fifth.

Both teams went to their bullpens in the sixth inning. Relievers Taylor Owens and Adrian Benitez of the Tritons and Buccaneers, respectively, held their opponents scoreless over the next three innings, so we went to the ninth inning with Eckerd still clinging to a 7-5 lead.

Eckerd ace Jordan Huchro was brought in to get the save. However, Barry managed to score three runs without even getting a hit in the inning, thanks to five walks, a hit batsman and an error.

After shortstop Rowdy Andrews walked and Bishop singled, Eckerd had the tying and go-ahead runs on base with no outs in the bottom of the ninth with the heart of their order coming up. However, Spinelle struck out and Hanson lined out, leaving the Tritons to their final out. Vavasis came through in the clutch, though, singling up the middle to pick up his fifth RBI of the game and sending the game into extra innings.

Neither team scored in either the 10th or 11th innings, sending the game to the 12th inning still tied 8-8. After Barry took a 9-8 in the top of the inning, Eckerd came right back again in their half of the inning, this time tying it on an RBI double by outfielder Lincoln Dunham.

However, the 13th would prove to be an unlucky one for the Tritons, as Barry managed to score three times in the top half of the inning but then Eckerd went down in order in their half of the inning, so Barry took the first game 12-9.

In the second game of the doubleheader, a seven-inning contest, Barry jumped out on top first with a run in the top of the first inning against starting pitcher Richard Cruz-Sanchez.

Eckerd managed to tie it in the bottom of the second inning, when Hanson hit his second home run of the day and ninth of the season. However, that would be the only run that the Tritons would score against Buccaneer starting pitcher Calvin Rayburn, as Barry rolled to a 5-1 victory.

Before the final game of the series and season, Eckerd had a short pre-game ceremony in which they honored the five seniors on this year’s team: Spinelle, designated hitter Tyler Abadal and pitchers Huchro, Joe Clagg and Henry Langs.

The game did not start out very well for Eckerd and starting pitcher Nick Hill, as Barry struck for four runs in the top of the first inning.

Eckerd did not let the early deficit get them down, however, and they started to chip away at the lead. They scored a run in the first inning, when Bishop singled, advanced to third on a wild pickoff throw and scored on an RBI groundout by Andrews. In the second inning, Bishop again used his speed to help Eckerd manufacture a run as he was able to leg out an RBI infield hit.

Barry was able to extend the lead back to 5-2 with a run in the third inning, but an RBI single by second baseman Adam Moreau and a Spinelle sac fly in the fourth inning trimmed the lead back to 5-4.

That momentum would be short-lived for the Tritons, as the Buccanners strung together consecutive RBI hits in the top of the fifth inning, giving them a 7-4 lead. An RBI double by catcher James Petika in the bottom of the fifth made it a 7-5 game.

Once again, both teams went to their bullpens in the sixth inning, and yet again the relievers came in and shut down the opposing offenses. Only one more run would be scored over the last four innings, and Barry finished off their sweep with an 8-5 victory.

The Magnolia Tree with a plaque in honor of Rachel Price. (photo by Aaron Levy)

“On behalf of ECOS, I am honored and humbled to speak here today,” said Commuter Senator Henry Palmer, representing the student body. “We intend for this tree to serve as a reminder of natural beauty and fragility of life. To Rachel’s family, friends and teammates we extend our most sincere condolences.” Palmer also read a short selection from the preface to Walt Whitman’s “Leaves of Grass” poem.

Women’s soccer Head Coach Danielle Fotopoulos, with her son in hand, said a few words on behalf of the soccer team and lead the audience in prayer. Chaplain Doug McMahon, director of Campus Ministries, led the Litany of Dedication before concluding the short service.

Often, however, there are just as many small groups, locations and resources that are easily overlooked. These all serve to represent unique facets of the Eckerd spirit that permeates the campus.

Yellow bike EMTs

It is always a pleasant sight to come across a sunny yellow bicycle parked near a green field or leaning against a palm tree. Sometimes, however, the campus bikes are upside-down, awaiting repair. They appear to be whisked away by fairies in the night, only to return the next morning ready for an early ride.

In fact, the yellow bicycles are continually being repaired throughout the course of the day, and the “fairies in the night” are actually work scholars sent out by Campus Activities to repair the fallen bikes. They are the Yellow Bike EMTs.

EMTs are trained at the beginning of the semester in basic bicycle repair. They work in pairs, going out in shifts to locate broken bikes and have them road-ready in a matter of minutes. An upside-down bike is the campus symbol for “fix me.” However, many bicycles in need of repair are sitting pretty amongst their healthy counterparts. One of the difficulties of the job is ensuring no loose chain or flat tire goes overlooked.

The EMTs also assist with the Yellow Bike Rally that students look forward to each semester, helping to release the fleet out into the wilderness. The enthusiasm they drum up around campus illustrates their fondness for the Yellow Bikes, but the private student bicycle is not completely left out in the dark. Weston Babelay of Campus Activities explains that the EMTs are trained on single-gear bicycles and as such are typically hesitant to work on more complicated student bikes; “We don’t want to mess anything up.”

Instead, the tools used for Yellow Bike repair are available for students to use if they wish to work on their own personal bikes. Students also occasionally come to Campus Activities to borrow a bicycle pump. Those without their own set of wheels can count on the EMTs to keep Eckerd’s bicycles up and running – or, to be more precise, up and riding.

Art studios 

It is difficult not to notice artistic influence around campus. There’s the Elliot Gallery in Ransom as well as the newer gallery in Cobb, both regularly home to public exhibits. Anthropomorphic metal sculptures overlook the pond out by Wireman Chapel, and the signs promoting various health or campus campaigns are often the result of student-created projects.

Behind the Ransom art building, a few small buildings house the minds and souls behind many of these displays. There are also a couple studios upstairs in Ransom itself, typically reserved for seniors working on thesis projects. Students who apply for a studio seek a dedicated space to focus on their medium of choice. Often these studios and the artists who inhabit them end up enriching campus life via thesis exhibits in campus galleries or other public displays of their work.

The studios exist for students only, although Visual Arts Coordinator Emily Ayers admits to some leniency for graduating seniors. “There is always a rush to move out [of the dorms], and moving does take a while.”

For many, the studios represent a small aspect of the Eckerd community’s appreciation for creativity and the ways it can be used to benefit the student body as a whole. Campus activities such as the Surreal Film Festival and the current Cobb gallery exhibit “Every Student an Artist” provide another example of the same philosophy the personal studios stand for: student creativity and artistic merit.

Advanced physics laboratory 

In a quiet corner at the back of one of the Sheen buildings, a small room has been dominated by a large piece of equipment. The room is typically dark and the door is simply labeled “Advanced Physics Lab.” The machine looks like something out of a science fiction film, with lights and wires and a wide tube-like apparatus or two going into the ceiling.

According to Physics professor Dr. Anne Cox, it is a vacuum system designed to study clusters (or groups) of atoms. As she describes the process, Dr. Cox explains that the purpose of the vacuum is to isolate the atoms from air and water molecules that would interfere with precise study. With the vacuum system, they are capable of determining the structure of the atomic clusters that they examine.

“The electronics, computer control system, support structure and most of the plumbing was done by students over the years,” Cox adds.

The vacuum system will be in storage for the next year while Sheen undergoes renovations.

When it returns, students will continue to play a vital role in the analyses it makes possible.

“Common ground”

Eckerd’s Center for Spiritual Life is home to a diverse range of groups big and small. Wireman Chapel provides a meeting place for Hillel, Catholic mass, Orthodox Christian Fellowship, meditation groups, and many others. At the beginning of this semester, students Olivia Cook and Jessica Eckbold founded “Common Ground” as a way to bring students and faculty together for dinner, worship and gardening.

Every Sunday evening, those who are interested come together to share a vegan or vegetarian meal and fellowship. They tend a small garden and discuss the environment and how it relates to spirituality, personal wellness and community. The Center for Spiritual Life’s Associate Director Libby Shannon hopes to begin gardening early on in the fall semester.

Shannon explains that the small group began planting late this spring. As most students will be away during the summer, they will not be able to use what they planted this season. She and the students hope to take that learning experience and plant early on so that students can harvest their garden and incorporate it into their dinners.

Living next to an activator during my freshman year was one of the biggest reasons I decided to apply. I filled out the application, interview with Weston Babelay, waited, and then found out I got a position.

My excitement grew throughout the summer as I received more emails from Weston and by the time I gave my two weeks at work, I was itching to get back to Eckerd.

My move-in day was brutal at 100 degrees. That evening, the entire group of activators gathered to get to know each other. Throughout the week, we got ready for the freshmen while planning everything we had to do during Autumn Term. Our team building activities, which consisted of silly tasks to make us feel comfortable, brought the group of activators together quickly.

The freshmen welcomed me and the other Gamma activators when we showed up to the complex. They even came to expect our “dorm storming” when we tried to get the freshmen to go to the many events that were planned. Overall, the complex clicked quickly. I loved the fact that we, as activators, didn’t have to make anyone participate. Everyone wanted to.

When all the activators went out for dinner this past August, Dean Annarelli talked with the group to get our opinion about our experience in Autumn Term. He praised us for a job well done during Autumn Term. “Through their [activators] untiring efforts, their incredible hospitality, and their undaunted spirit, they generate enthusiasm among our new freshmen and help to make them feel at ease and at home on campus,” said Annarelli.

Annarelli told the group that the activator program plays a much bigger role at Eckerd than we can imagine. When I asked him why, Annarelli said, “Because of the key role that activators play in the orientation of our students and their integration into the larger Eckerd community, activators are among our most important agents for retention.”

Annarelli also asked if any would be pursuing a different role in Eckerd for the following year, whether it be a teacher’s assistant, or ambassador or residential advisor. I raised my hand. I was already planning on applying to be a residential advisor for the 2013-2014 academic year after not applying to be one this academic year.

I completed my residential advisor application over winter term and scheduled my interview with Jessica Wright and Dan Niebler to be at the end of January. I received an email Feb. 20 inviting me to a second round of interview with all the other applicants. Decisions were placed in the mailboxes March 8, and I ran to them after class.

Congratulations, my letter said. I was selected to be the residential advisor in Gamma Knox. Since receiving the position, I sat down with Annarelli and asked if he thought that having been an activator played any part in preparing for the role of a resident advisor.

He pointed out that both activators and RAs share the same quality for building community. “Like the activators, RAs are cheerleaders so to speak, in the sense of building the kind of enthusiasm for being a part of the Eckerd community that activators so effectively generate.”

Recalling if past activators had also become residential advisors, I remembered that Senior Saige Liparulo was in the same boat as me last year. Wondering if I could incorporate some of my skills from being an activator in my transition to RA, I decided to get her take on the experience from her switch. “ResLife focuses on building community as well and I felt being an activator first helped me understand the obstacles new students have in finding their majors, building a strong group of friends, and getting familiar with professors.”

With the skills and knowledge I had from being an activator, I look forward to participating in Autumn Term once again from yet another perspective, this time as a residential advisor. I hope to welcome the new freshmen in my dorm and introduce them to what Eckerd is all about.

In a recent survey conducted by The Current with 247 responses, 65.1 percent of students say the same thing.

With the majority of the latest survey responses coming from freshmen, it’s hard to compare these two numbers, as freshmen haven’t been around to see the many recent changes. But, that doesn’t mean you can ignore the numbers completely. In three categories of food quality, food variety and food value, more than 50 percent of the freshmen who responded are dissatisfied or very dissatisfied.

Call it being used to home-cooked meals, not knowing what the food was like a few years ago or the general complaints that you’ll find at any college, there’s still no denying that students are unhappy with dining services.

But, behind the scenes, things are improving. Individual students and an ECOS committee have all worked to bring about some changes.

Sophomore Cat Pappas worked tirelessly for four months to get gluten-free options available in the caf. While many survey takers noted that this was a much needed addition, Pappas still feels disappointed by Bon Appetit. “Most of the dishes are still brown rice based. They now incorporate white quinoa but those are the least healthy grains in comparison to red quinoa,” Pappas said in an email.

For students avoiding gluten for health reasons and not dietary reasons, eating in cafeterias and public places can be difficult. An entirely new set of pots and pans must be used to make sure there is no cross-contamination of any sort of gluten.

“It’s hard, but the end result is worth it,” said General Manager Jaime Llovera. The Culinary Relations Committee, the official ECOS go-between for the student body and dining services, is making progress in other areas. “They (Bon Appétit) really like hearing input about what kind of food we want, about the variety and quality of the food itself,” says Culinary Relations Committee Director Kyle Berghold.

Since its inception, the committee has succeeded in getting napkin holders placed on the outside tables at the cafeteria and a smoothie station for weekend breakfasts. Gathering suggestions via word of mouth and Campus Grumble, the committee meets with Llovera and Kathy Mills, Caf Manager, once a week to talk about how to improve dining services and discuss on-going projects.

The committee is working on is stylizing the Caf, adding student artwork and reworking the layout.

“We want it to make people more comfortable,” says Senior David Trujillo, a member of the
Culinary Relations Committee and an intern under Llovera. “What we really want is more student involvement in the committee and getting students involved through art would naturally lead to overall improvements.”

While working on more specific projects like stylizing, the committee is also constantly working to achieve some long terms goals, which includes providing food that is healthy and organic. The problem with organic fruits and vegetables is that they are more expensive, sometimes by more than twice the amount of their non-organic counterparts. Trujillo explained the concept of the “Dirty Dozen,” a study completed by the Environmental Working Group.

“Cut up fruit from the main cafateria.” (photo by Alex Zielinski)

The study tested the levels of pesticide residue found on non-organic fruits and vegetables after washing with water. Because every food has different physical properties, some had no remaining pesticides after washing while others still had the residue of up to 67 different pesticides.

Instead of having to buy all organic fruits and vegetables, the school can use the results of the study to know when to splurge and buy the organic version or when to save money with the non-organic.

Llovera explained that the budget for next year includes more organic foods and that even more small changes are on the way.

They are currently trying to figure out how to bring the new healthier options into the pub, including gluten-free tortillas for the wrap station and organic fruits for purchase with flex dollars. Next year the student body will also be introduced to a new yellow-bike system of silverware. Llovera explained that he was approached by a group of students writing a paper for a class and now they are taking charge of take-and-return silverware system.

In the fall, students will be able to take the reusable cups and metal silverware from the cafeteria at no charge, and then return them during their next meal to be cleaned.

They’ll even host an amnesty day during which students can return all their cafeteria cups and silverware and maybe even be entered in a raffle for flex-dollar gift cards.

“It might cost a lot at the beginning, but that way we don’t have to deal with the extra cost of buying plastic cups and filling landfills. It will make us more eco-friendly,” says Llovera. Llovera stresses that the needs of the students come first. “We are here for them [the students]”, he said, “any need or request, we will try and accommodate as much as we can.” The hardest thing seems to be trying to meet student expectations while operating on a budget. Llovera explained that the school does the best it can, but it’s constantly fighting a battle against the coastal environment we love so much.

“We’re right on the water and the salt affects everything. It’s in the air. Look at the lights in the cafe, they’re all rusted; every single brick is affected by it, we have to keep replacing things.”

Here’s an idea of an athlete’s daily schedule during autumn term; a freshman’s very first month at college: From 6:30-7:30 a.m., the team lifts weights in the gym. Following that, we do some form of conditioning until about 8:30. A few examples are crossfit, jumping rope or running. The team grabs a quick breakfast at the Main Caf before the freshmen are off to their Autumn Term class from 9-12. After lunch and a nap, there are a few hours of studying on South Beach. Dinner is around 5 p.m. in the Pub, and then we go to practice from 6-9. Hopefully a shower gets squeezed in before it’s off to the library to work on a group project for a few hours. If we’re lucky, bedtime is around 11.

For a handful of the freshmen at Eckerd who are also athletes, this is our chosen lifestyle. On top of being a college freshmen, we have to adapt to a high level of collegiate athletics in the NCAA Division ll Sunshine State Conference. Although there are some things athletes miss out on in their college experience, there’s also a whole lot we get to enjoy that typical freshmen don’t.

Softball shortstop Kara Oberer reflects on the advantages she’s gained from being an athlete, “By playing a sport in college, I was forced to learn how to manage my time, and now I can use that skill in other aspects of life.”

Eddy Juarez, a centerback from Mexico, is all about the team aspect of soccer. “Everything you do as a freshman athlete comes down to gaining the trust  and respect of your team, which is the best part of the entire freshman year.”

These freshmen have had to adapt their lifestyles to fulfill the requirements of college athletics. Balancing practice, homework and a social life is a challenge, but it keeps them on track for success. That kind of self-regulation and management is a struggle at first, but it proves to be a valued skill later on in life. I have felt both the pros and cons of being a collegiate athlete. I did miss out on some fun events on campus this year, but I got the chance to compete in a national tournament with a group of girls who are like a family to me.

The sweat, fatigue, and hard work may not sound appealing to some, but to the student athletes at Eckerd, it means everything. Its the price they pay for the exciting competition, the sweet victories, the national tournaments and the prestigious awards.

A few freshmen rounded up accolades from their first season in the collegiate realm of sports. Annie Armstrong from women’s basketball was named the SSC Freshman of the Year. Armstrong was also named to the SSC Newcomer Team in basketball, the same award I received for volleyball. Jerrick Stevenson of Men’s Basketball was deemed SSC Freshman of the Year as well.

There are many strong freshman contenders for recognition in spring sports including softball’s Oberer, but their season awards have not been decided yet.