Dear Crichton...

So today was...ahem....interesting. 

All was well in my world, initially. I was getting ready to head out to school when I noticed my friend Scribbles' status on facebook, saying that she was looking for a school to which she could transfer. I was immediately concerned and wrote her, asking if everything was okay. I thought maybe there was an illness in the family or financial difficulties in her life, and I wanted to see if I could help somehow. 

Imagine my surprise when she informs me that my school is closing after this semester. 

Yes, you read that correctly. Closing. 

The day program is finite, vamoose, gone beyond recall. It was decided on Monday, the faculty and staff was informed last night, and it was announced at chapel this morning to the students, with the students being told that all scholarships would not be honored after this semester. 

Need I remind you folks that I'm a second semester junior? Need I remind you that most schools do not accept senior transfers? And need I further remind you that the Powers or Dolts That Be decided to announce all this three days after the add/drop period for the U of M?

Katie was not a happy camper. That's probably the biggest understatement to have yet been uttered since the day that somebody said that Goliath was largely misunderstood; in actuality, he was a warm and fuzzy chap that slept with teddy bears and drank pina coladas with his lunches of brie and caviar and spent his weekends helping old ladies cross the street without getting mauled by all the other brutish Philistines. 

So anyway, I've composed a letter, by which I mean that I'm writing it off the top of my head, of what I would say to the Board and our venerable and nasty excuse for a president if I had the chance. 

Dear Crichton Board, President, and all those that it may concern,

First of all, I would like to thank you for the three years I've had at Crichton College. I know without a shadow of a doubt that Crichton was the best place for me to be, where God wanted me to be. I am not remotely the same person I was when I first came to Crichton, and while not all of my experiences there have been positive, they have all worked to make me into a better person and a better Christian. The professors are absolutely the best in the business, bar none. I cannot praise them enough. They are more than my mentors -- they're my friends.

That being said, I'm very, very, justifiably angry at the events that occurred today for several reasons. It puts me into a bad situation, personally. You didn't give me enough warning to transfer to another school, and most schools don't accept senior transfers. Where does that leave me? In the toilet, my friends. I'm either stuck hoping that the University of Memphis or Union lets me in, or that I can somehow finish out my degree with night courses at the shell of what Crichton used to be. Yes, spending my last year of college at a ghost ship with all my professors gone is exactly the kind of experience I need.

But as much as I hate what you've done to me, I hate even more what you've done to my school. It was such a special place, and now it's gone forever. Crichton used to be a haven of learning, of friendship, and even, God forbid, true diversity. This diversity was the kind that wasn't forced, but was natural and easy because you honestly didn't care about the color of peoples' skin so long as they were lovers of knowledge. It was when you started questioning that easy friendship that the racial tension broke out like a poison ivy rash. I had never in my life experienced prejudice until my sophomore year of college, and I'm white. I was judged on sight because of what I am, for things that I didn't do. How is that fair? How is that any different from the segregation of the 1960's? It isn't; you just inflamed racial tensions until you couldn't see what you were doing to your students. Instead of building them up and teaching them of higher things, you tore them down. You failed us all.

That's only one issue.

Why, may I ask, if the school was in such bad financial straits, were four new flat screen TVs and a new Foosball table put in the student center, rather than, I don't know, fixing the stupid leaking roof? As my friend Aubrey said, it was like offering a cancer patient a face lift.

Why were foreign athletes brought in at huge cost to the school, to a liberal arts school, and the Honors program allowed to die? What did we need with a huge athletic program? It's not like we were going to play during March Madness. When, of course, said athletes failed out in two semesters anyway, despite the required, unpaid hours of tutoring that the Honors students were forced to give them. Why were good professors dismissed and replaced with substandard and racist adjuncts? 

These problems didn't happen all at once. They've been allowed to build and fester for several years now, and have gone largely unchecked. I believe that the downhill tumble started when the school stopped being a school and became a badly organized, financially unsound mission. Your focus became the inner city of Memphis rather than maintaining the highest standards of education that had previously been your ideal. 

And my favorite part of this whole Carthage-esque disaster, salt sewn in the fields and all, is that we tried to tell you. I took every survey that ever came through my email account, and I told you my concerns. But you didn't trust us, or simply didn't take the time to listen to us. The school's administration acted like the students were a problem, rather than the reason that we were there in the first place. I never felt like my complaints and comments were addressed in a respectful manner by anyone other than the professors. We were just flies in the daily ointment, a nuisance instead of an individual seeking self-improvement. As an example of this treatment of the students, I guess I can refer to the financial aid office as a symbol of all that was wrong. The financial aid office was affectionately referred to as "Hell" by many of us, due to its disorganized nature and its tendency to cause students to slip into its depths, never to see the light of day again. We tried to tell you in every way possible, but we were not heard. We were ignored, and I have no qualms in saying I told you so now.

Shame on you. 

Shame on you for forcing us into this position. 

Shame on you for taking all the joy out of my senior year. 

Shame on you for sending countless people into financial difficulty because they won't have jobs. 

Shame on you for not listening to your students and to God, and for losing sight of the mission statement of our school. 

Shame on you for taking away something I love because you couldn't be responsible with what you had been given. 

Shame. 

Signed,

Kaitlin Johnson