For nearly a century, the University of Chicago has been known as a citadel of graduate education, a great research university, a “teacher of teachers.” Its reputation has been as austere as its core curriculum. Undergraduates, traditionally a minority on campus, have earned a reputation as eggheads, grinds and worse. An edition of The Insider’s Guide to the Colleges once observed that “studying is the U. of C. student’s favorite pastime.” Admits Chicago’s president, Hanna Holborn Gray: “There was a perception that life here was—I won’t say gray, that’s hard for me—but beige.”
No more. Gray and her colleagues have set about the difficult task of image changing. Because of the decline in the number of students entering Ph.D. programs, the University of Chicago is putting more emphasis on undergraduates. In 1972 there were only 2,000; this year, 2,950. Given the declining number of 18-year-olds and Chicago’s annual cost of $13,000, it seems a daring goal. The school may be rethinking, but it is clearly not retrenching. The strategy: a more youthful, lively appearance. For the first time, the cover of the catalogue is in full color this year, showing the campus in golden autumn splendor. Five years ago, the inside pages were filled with shots of classrooms and labs, with perhaps a Nobel laureate or two. This year there are smiling students clowning, dancing and embracing. Says Admissions Dean Dan Hall: “We are going for a bit broader student,” The result: an estimated freshman class next fall of 800, compared with 770 this year.
The incoming students will encounter a strange new concept on campus: fun. The fieldhouse has been refurbished. Student theater and music groups are flourishing. A winter carnival is now established as an annual event. Called Kuvia-sungnerk, an Eskimo word for happiness, the festival this year included a pajama brunch and a three-mile walk to a landmark spot along the Lake Michigan shore known as “the Point.” Two weeks ago, the deans inaugurated a student-faculty contest day, featuring softball games at which President Gray threw out the first ball.
The antics may seem comical to anyone who remembers a sketch by the Second City acting company that portrayed a U. of C. football player confusing left guard with Kierkegaard. Maybe that is the intention. Insists Herman Sinaiko, dean of students: “I want happy students. If they’re sitting around worrying, they can’t read Dostoyevsky the way they should.” The students seem to be getting into the spirit of things. HO, HO, reads a T shirt being sold by a group of undergraduates. THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO IS FUNNIER THAN YOU THINK.
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