Irish Hall on College Avenue houses the Veterans Upward Bound program. Photo by Diana Martinez.

Sean Gholz saunters into class a few minutes late. No one around him looks up from their whispered conversations as the professor readies the day’s material, which is surprising, considering Gholz’s physique almost demands attention, or at the very least a stolen glance. At 6-foot-2, Gholz is built like the men in the GO ARMY commercials with a buzz cut to match. It makes sense. Afterall, Gholz is just one of countless veterans at ASU.

“I don’t necessarily like to bring up that I was in the military,” Gholz says. “I don’t necessarily like to have people look at me in that light because it obviously makes people have a different opinion of you. I’d rather people get to know me first as a person as opposed to getting to know me as a veteran.”

Gholz, a 26-year-old economics major at the W.P. Carey School, joined the military five days after his 19th birthday. A man with political aspirations, he thinks his time in the military will serve him well, even as he pursues his undergraduate and, he hopes, a law degree. After serving for a year in Iraq and 15 months in Afghanistan, he chose ASU and was accepted while stationed in Hawaii for the remainder of his tour. He enrolled and began taking classes at ASU the following January — less than four months after his leave from the military.

“I don’t think that I needed more time off; I don’t think time off would have been more beneficial,” Gholz says. “In all reality Iraq wasn’t really that bad of a deployment. I didn’t really have that many problems coming back from Iraq as in like shock, or wariness or whatnot. It was difficult in a lot of different ways, but it wasn’t like Afghanistan was. Afghanistan was a tough deployment. Iraq was much more … annoying. I didn’t agree with the Iraq war. I didn’t agree with why we were there. … I t didn’t seem like we were doing as much good as we could have been doing and as much good as we should have been doing. It just didn’t seem like we were doing anything, it didn’t seem like we were making a difference at all.” 

Gholz’s opinions on America’s current wars in Iraq and Afghanistan represent neither the views of the military nor the student population, but rather Gholz himself, which he prefers. Through classroom discussions and personal conversations, it becomes clear he works purposefully to create a persona for himself that encompasses both his role as a man of the military and a student of post-secondary education.

The road to self-identification hasn’t been easy for Gholz and those around him. Professors and peers battle their own pre-conceived notions of what a veteran should be, and this struggle doesn’t exist only at universities. It is a national issue of identity and understanding, one that ASU is trying to combat.

Pima County forensic anthropologist Dr. Bruce Anderson talks about the “micro-traumas” of examining dead bodies on a daily basis. Photo by Branden Eastwood.

Bruce Anderson leans back in his seat and runs his hands through his hair. He speaks of the corpses in a matter-of-fact-tone, like someone would talk  about picking up mail. It’s not because he doesn’t care, it’s just that he’s tired of all the dead bodies — bodies that arrive constantly, bodies that need to be examined and have a determined cause of death. He’s tired of sorting through the bones that pile up on his desk each month. Last week he had 10 or 15 bodies he needed to look at that he just didn’t have time to get to. His eyes are red; He rubs them constantly.

His 6-foot-6 inch frame is slouched over in a chair, his arms folded. His blond hair pulled back. He looks like an old surfer that wandered too far from the ocean and suddenly found himself in Arizona, knee-deep in cactus, tumble weeds and the demented echo of some cowboy tune.

Anderson, who graduated from ASU in ‘82 with a bachelor’s in anthropology, is a forensic anthropologist in Pima County. He works in a small building in the shadow of the University Physicians Hospital in Tucson. He determines the cause of death of people who were murdered, committed suicide or died in strange accidents. Each year he examines about 2,500 dead bodies, mostly Americans who are in and out in a few days. But during the last decade, more than 200 of the corpses each year have been from migrants who died while crossing the border from Mexico.

Arizona leads the nation in migrant deaths each year, according to a study from the American Civil Liberties Union. Anderson’s job is to find out who these people are, where they lived and how they died. Many migrants don’t carry IDs. Many have no dental records. Many have been decaying in the desert for days and sometimes years.

“The longer a body is out there the more likely it has been scavenged by critters,” he says. “If you’ve been out there long enough to skeletonize, then you’ve been out there long enough to for a coyote, dog, javelina or vulture to either consume part of you or take part of you back to their den.”

Each body needs to be identified, claimed by relatives and sent back to their family.

A tack board behind Anderson's desk displays skeletal imagery and official badges from Anderson’s career. Photo by Branden Eastwood.

Anderson explains this while sitting in a chair behind a long desk, just down the hall from his office. He slowly wipes his hand across his face or through his hair from time to time. Sometimes he closes his eyes after. Then he takes a deep breath like he’s just taken a long drag off a cigarette and is suddenly more relaxed.

The job is hard. He knows this. He’s got 90 migrant bodies from last year that haven’t been claimed by families. Some days, he says, he wishes he could have a day to rest and catch up with the medical journals. He used to have one day at work he could do that. “I haven’t seen that day for seven years,” he says. “It’ll take me seven years just to clean up the messes I have in my office right now.”

The death is hard to deal with. “Maybe you never do build up a level of callousness or distance,” he says. Maybe, he never acclimates to the greasy flesh and the smell of decaying tissue, or organs that have turned to mush from sitting out in the sun, or finding a body and realizing he’s not the first one to come across it — realizing that maggots and beetles have eaten any discernible feature the migrant had.

And the bodies. Most of them have a fetid stench that sticks in his nostrils. Maybe it’s just a series of micro-traumas everyday. Series upon series of traumas that are as common in his line of work as turning a wrench is to a mechanic.

“Every month or year I think, ‘What the hell am I doing?’” he says.

But he wins small battles everyday. He identifies 75 percent of the migrant cases, the highest percentage in the nation, which he says he thinks runs at about 40 percent. When he clears a body out from the queue, a family gets a little closure. And that, maybe, makes the job worth it.

“The alternative, not knowing, has got to be worse,” he says.

The death is hard, it will always be hard, he says. Looking at the body of a an 11-year-old migrant who died while crossing the border never gets easy. But that’s not too common. Most of the migrant bodies he sees are between 25 and 35-years-old. And almost all are healthy — at least they were before they died crossing the desert, through rows of prickly pear cactus and jagged beige rocks.

“I mean, they weren’t shot,” he says. “They were in dangerous situations that they put themselves in, I won’t sugar coat it. But it’s not some kid who drove his car too fast or some girl who took a bunch of drugs and killed herself or some guys who got in a pissing contest and pulled out weapons. These are people who are healthy and they would be alive today if they didn’t see the need to cross that border.”

As almost all of the deaths are because of dehydration and exposure, most of the migrants would be alive if they just had water.

Mike Wilson has been leaving water in the desert for migrant border crossers for close to a decade. Photo by Branden Eastwood.

No Expectations: Ain’t No Use In Cryin

Before Mike Wilson drove 100 miles west  to the middle of the Tohono O’dham Nation, he reached into his truck’s center console and pulled out a metal cross with a turquoise stone in the middle. He put it around his neck and said, “The bus is leaving.”

Wilson is a man who has run out of fingers to stick in the dike.

In the middle of the desert, more than an hour west of Tucson, he glances down and points at tread marks lining the ground. He sighs, and dust kicks up from his feet as he walks closer to the marks.

“Those look like they’re from the tribal police,” Wilson, 60, says. Something about the tread pattern makes him think so, he can’t say it was them for certain.

For nine years, Wilson has put out water for migrants crossing into America. He places groups of water jugs on the ground in high-traffic areas, hoping that migrants will find them. He does this in a corridor on the Tohono O’odham Nation, or “the Nation” as Wilson calls it. The area that he puts the water in was referred to as “The Killing Fields” in the ACLU study and is one of the most commonly used border-crossing routes, and one of the most deadly.

The citizens of the Baboquivari District, the district on the Tohono O’odham Nation where Wilson puts out his water, has decided  leaving water for migrants is aiding in illegal activity.

“Well, I know that [Wilson’s] efforts are for a good cause,” Baboquivari District Chairwoman Veronica Harvey says. “But the people are the ones that have a say.”

People in the District have their homes vandalized, Harvey says. They’ve had problems with drug traffickers and trash that crossing migrants leave behind. But Wilson believes the Nation should still put out water. He believes they have an “obligation to a higher moral code.” So Wilson goes on, even though it’s illegal and he could be arrested.

With the sun high overhead, Wilson’s long black hair is neatly pulled into a pony tail. The cross hanging from his neck flashes in the sun. Through out the day, when Wilson is lost for words, he swings it back and forth along its chain. He moves steadily and with purpose. He is a man, not of few words, but of rhythmic, tight sentences.

Against a backdrop of hellishly mangled trees and saguaro cactus that peer over the rest of the landscape like green watchtowers, Wilson walks closer to his water station. This station, the first of four on the reservation, he calls St. Matthew. Near the station there are foot prints, but they’re not migrant foot prints.

Wilson plods over to where his water jugs should be. He looks down and runs his hand over the tan dirt. The ground is smooth and has been distorted by running water. Last time he was here, under the shade of a tree, he left 10 gallons of water organized in the shape of a cross. But now, instead of empty jugs used by thirsty migrants, Wilson found several round holes carved into the ground – scars from where the water poured out onto parched earth.

“Well, let’s leave 10 [gallons] here,” Wilson says as he sighs. “You leave what you’ve got and that’s all you can do.”

A former Presbyerian minister, Wilson often leaves the jugs of water in the shape of a cross. Photo by Branden Eastwood.

A Rock and a Hard Place

At one time, Wilson was a Presbyterian pastor on the reservation. While there, he came across a map showing a red dot in each place a dead migrant was found. In a corridor, five miles from where he lived, was a splashing current of red, so full of dots that distinguishing one from another was nearly impossible.

He thought to himself, “Hey, here are all these people dying and the Nation is not doing anything about it.” That was the beginning of what Wilson calls his “mission.”

As if traveling more than 100 miles every other week, and sometimes each week, wasn’t hard enough, the District’s policy of taking down his water stations has made Wilson’s mission even more futile. Like a man pushing a boulder up a mountain, a Sisyphus of the west.

But the Nation finds itself in a hard place. It shares 75 miles of border with Mexico and, by its own studies, about 450 illegal migrants cross through the Nation each day.

In total, the Nation spends $3 million each year on migrant related issues, half a million of which is spent on identifying migrant corpses. It deals with drug traffickers and peaceful migrants.

Wilson doesn’t try to hide what he does. He doesn’t skulk around in the dark. He simply drives an hour west from his home and into the middle of the Nation, just south of its capital, and goes about his business, obeying a “higher moral law.”

David Garcia has been helping Mike Wilson with his water project for the last four years. Photo by Branden Eastwood.

Don’t Stop: Mixed Emotions

David Garcia, a fellow tribe member, has helped Wilson put out water for four years. His face is wrinkled and tan, and his eyes are always squinted. When Garcia talks, which is not very often, his mouth opens just enough to show he’s speaking.

Garcia stands next to Wilson and smokes a hand-rolled cigarette by the back of Wilson’s green Dodge truck.

When he’s finished, Garcia climbs up the back of Wilson’s truck and into the bed. Garcia methodically pulls out 10 gallon-size jugs, and two at a time he walks them beneath the tree. He neatly arranges them on the ground in the shape of a cross.

“Always in the sign of the cross,” Wilson says. “I hoped [whoever is dumping the water out] would have a conscience.”

Garcia takes his jacket off. Even on this spring day in Southern Arizona the sun is becoming a nuisance. In the summer it’ll reach over 115 degrees; the small green shrubs and the wildflowers that are in bloom now will shrivel up. There are groves of leafless, gray trees whose branches tear at everything passing through like the sprouting dregs of a horrible torture device. Wilson says it will only get more frustrating the hotter it gets.

The two get into the truck. Wilson backs it up onto the main dirt road. Tree branches claw the truck’s side. He drives for another five minutes and then turns into the next water station, which he calls St. Mark.

“Yup, more tracks,” Wilson says as he lets out a long sigh.

All the water is gone again, taken and dumped onto the ground. It’s like this for Wilson’s two other water stations. All four stations — St. Matthew, St. Mark, St. Luke and St. — are preceded by a set of tire tracks. Around each set of tracks are foot prints that stomped around where the jugs were left in the shape of a cross.  All that’s left of the water and jugs are ridges in the ground where the water was poured out.

“We never know when he is coming,” Harvey says of the local governments attempts to stop Wilson. “We find out later that the water stations are up again and so we take them down.”

At each station Wilson bends close to the dirt. He waves his hands over it and feels the ridges left by the water. He examines very closely. At one point he can tell how the person stood as the water dumped out: two jugs at the same time, held in each hand with arms slightly spread in opposite directions out from the hips, he says.

Wilson sighs as he pulls out his notebook to record the missing water. It’s enough to make a person throw in the towel, just give up. Why not? He doesn’t get paid for this. He doesn’t have to set out water for the migrants. He could just let them die in the desert, shrivel up on the ground and die of dehydration.

But he knows he can’t agonize over the missing water. What happens after he leaves is out of his control.

David Garcia walks past the watering hole that migrants often use to fill water bottles in Wilson’s absence. The sacred Baboquivari Peak overlooks the squalor water. Photo by Branden Eastwood.

You Can’t Always Get What You Want

Garcia and Wilson get back in the truck and drive down the dirt road to a watering hole for livestock.

The watering hole is a stagnant, muddy pond where migrants are sometimes forced to fill their bottles when Wilson’s water is gone. The thick water blends in with its muddy banks.

To the east is Baboquivari Peak, a sacred point of genesis for the Tohono O’odham people. It’s a part of their creation story. This made Wilson think about the District’s policy toward his water stations.

“I find it to be hypocrisy,” Wilson said.

The two get into the truck once more. They leave the dirt road and turn onto a two-lane highway. Wilson turns across the oncoming-traffic lane, just in front of a faded sign with “Law Enforcement” written in small black letters. He wants to let the Border Patrol know he’s going to check on his last water station on the Mexican side. The Border Patrol doesn’t care if he sets out water. They don’t mingle with tribal laws.

The Border Patrol station is several dilapidated mobile-home type buildings in the middle of nowhere. On the back of the main mobile-home-unit is a large cage. It looks like a dog kennel in an animal shelter.  This is where captured migrants are held. Dirt ground and metal corrugated tops, all fenced in with chain link. On the ground are 14 or so hard plastic-looking beds. Like stray curs, they’re snatched up and placed in the cages.

Wilson is talking to one of the officers, he tells them he’s going to check on his water station.

“Not a problem,” the officer says. He has a crew cut, green uniform and a badge that reads “Z. Klinske.” “I’ll take care of it, sirs.”

The radio crackles and he mutters Wilson’s directions into it.

Wilson drives on and crosses the border, which is two lines of barbed wire and a 20-foot no-man’s-land. Any half-sober person with a keen sense of north could cross it.

Crossing the border is not the hard part, though. Surviving the desert and not getting chased down and locked up in the dog pen is the hard part.

The water station on the other side of the border is the only one left with any water. It’s the only one that hasn’t been poured out.

Contact the reporter at wphippen@asu.edu

A student hits the books at the Sandra Day O'Connor College of Law in Tempe. Photo by Sarah Katz.

When ASU President Michael Crow announced the university’s mission to become the “New American University” the Sandra Day O’Connor College of Law was certainly not exempt.

From the outside, the law buildings appear relatively empty. What goes on inside the law school? Does anyone know? Well of course the law students do, but for the most part, the law school has previously flown under the radar. But that’s changing.

From students running a prestigious law journal, to a stellar pro bono program, to a plethora of new legal clinics and even a fresh ASU campus in D.C., opportunities are multiplying at the law school. It’s changing, as seen in the most recent set of US News rankings, rankings by the same group that ranks the nation’s undergraduate schools. The law school is proud of its achievements and even hopes to attract undergraduate students to get involved. With a new undergraduate program, it’s no longer just a grad school.

Paul Schiff Berman became dean of the law school in August 2008. “Dr. Crow gave me the task of reinventing public legal education for the 21st century,” Berman says.

His office is spacious and airy, and as he leans back into his chair, he says the law school is abuzz with activity and so many new programs he could talk for hours. He explains the law school’s new focus is “legal education in the future tense” and that the law school is disposing of old models of legal education and trying to create new methods of education. “We’re expanding what counts as legal education,” he says. “Our law school isn’t just a place to train lawyers for practice.”

New Directions

One of the law school’s new goals is to offer legal education to students who aren’t destined to become lawyers, to students who are simply interested in learning about the law. The law school has instituted a one-year master’s program for professionals in other fields who simply want a general knowledge of law. The Sandra Day O’Connor College of Law is also the only law school in the nation offering an undergraduate degree in law, and a B.A. legal program is planned to begin in fall of 2011.

“The undergraduate programs can be preparation for law school but will hopefully be just as much for people who plan to go into other careers,” Berman says. “An understanding of law and U.S. legal institutions should be part of a liberal arts education. It’s all part of being an educated citizen.”

Berman says legal education shouldn’t be viewed as something reserved for lawyers. “I think it’s a problem for U.S. society that in a country so suffused with law, we’ve cordoned off legal education for only lawyers,” he says.

The dean says law is at the center of addressing all global challenges.“There are always law and policy components to potential solutions,” he says. “Whether it’s global warming, population increase or family violence, you can’t make any headway without addressing legal, policy and regulatory aspects of the problem.”

On the forefront of ASU’s legal involvement in international issues is the hands-on Center for Law and Global Affairs, a new addition to the law school that started in fall 2009. “The focus is on how international and transnational law work in the real world, Berman says. “We send students abroad to study where law and how law is implemented.”

He says he hopes the program will lead to students thinking more broadly about the influence of law. “Students will examine the cultural norms people follow without the presence of courts and handcuffs. They’ll look at all the situations where law and culture meet.”

As a result of Berman’s goal to change legal education to a study crossing multiple disciplines, the Sandra Day O’Connor College of Law is at the forefront of marrying science and policy and has been combining science and law longer than any other law school.  “We have the oldest, largest and most comprehensive center for law, science and innovation in the country,” Berman says, speaking of the Center for Law, Science and Innovation, which encompass programs on law’s relationship with personalized medication, sustainability, biotechnology, nanotechnology and public health policy.

“Historically science has developed much faster than law, and law has had to rush to catch up,” he says. “We’re working with other programs around the university so the two develop in tandem.”

As associate dean for faculty research and development, Douglas Sylvester is in charge of promoting faculty scholarship. He says law research is incredibly varied, as it crosses so many other disciplines. “Law has a habit of regulating and affecting everything,” says the Northwestern University and University of Chicago graduate. But many schools, he says, have been slow to embrace law’s inherently interdisciplinary nature. He has only been at ASU since 2002, but he says he has seen ASU become a leader in interdisciplinary studies.

“We have the nation’s preeminent Indian Law program,” he says, referring to research done by Carl Artman, who has worked on the development of tribal land and is the Director of Economic Development in Indian Land Program. “The law school is becoming a leader in law and sustainability and we have world leaders in intellectual law,” Sylvester says.

Writing (about) the law

Patrick Cunningham, editor-in-chief of the Arizona State Law Journal, is one of many students enjoying the opportunities the law school offers. He took over the position last May and he is currently in his third year of law school. Cunningham says a legal education is three years long, and the different years are referred to as 1L, 2L and 3L.

Cunningham says he has enjoyed his time on the journal, but he calls it “bittersweet.” Although he enjoys duties as editor, he says he devotes an enormous percentage of his time to the journal. “We release summer, fall, winter and spring issues every year,” he says.

The law journal also works with Sandra Day O’Connor faculty and legal experts from across the country to put on annual symposiums where renowned scholars will speak. Their speeches are published in the law journal, where other legal scholars comment, critique and support the ideas put forth by the speaker. “The symposiums have been a big success, “ Cunningham says. “We recently had Harvard professor, Theda Skocpol, speak on the political process of health care reform and how it will shape US public policy.”

Legal Do-Gooders

Pamphlets describing Pro-bono opportunities at the college are displayed for student use. Photo by Sarah Katz.

The ASU pro bono program is one of many ways the law school is striving to become more integrated with its surrounding community. The program was started more than 20 years ago by a group of students who wanted to be more involved with the community. Now, the Pro Bono Program has evolved to be somewhat of an umbrella, covering 24 specialty programs.

Kristine Reich, director of student affairs for the law school, is passionate about the pro bono program. “I like being a resource to students who are future lawyers, to assist in exposing them to pro bono work. I like seeing them evolve,” she says. She says she particularly enjoys watching students learn compassion, a character trait they’ll carry with them into their careers as legal professionals.

The Pro Bono Program helps educate high school students about their constitutional rights and increases their general knowledge on law and government. It also serves as a pipeline to law school, particularly for young people with traditional barriers to higher education, such as students from lower-income households and rural communities. “We want to introduce the possibility of legal education to these students,” Reich says.

To give high school students a taste of the law and perhaps motivate them to pursue a legal education, students participating in the pro bono program go to senior classes at high schools to educate students on exactly what the law entails. “We’ll do things like moot court in the classes so students can actually participate in developing advocacy skills.” In 2009, the pro bono program took a group of students from South Mountain High School to the National Moot Court Competition, where they took the national championship.

The program also gives free legal advice to high school students through the Juvenile Legal Assistance Program. Reich says that through the program, law students answer questions on juvenile law and provide brief legal advice. “We go to domestic violence shelters,” she says. “We also work with disability law. Students can work with attorneys on actual cases. They’re supervised to write motions and do legal research and analysis. Pro bono students also provide free assistance on income tax and assistance to artists, provided aid on contracts, patents and trademark issues.

Since its founding, the pro bono program has been wildly successful. “Nearly two-thirds of law students do something with the program,” Reich says. The program is led by the Pro Bono Board, a group of 24 law students of all years.Reich explains that they provide overall support for all the programs, and they organize the Justice For All Night fundraiser, a benefit to raise money to fund summer fellowships and recruit law students to the pro bono cause.

Since its founding, the pro bono program has begun to extend its helping hands beyond Maricopa County and is now operating on a statewide level. Each year ASU students attend the justice conference. Last May, a student attending from ASU had the idea to start a new program, the Justice Bus. “Volunteer attorneys and law students all get onto a bus and go to rural areas where most people don’t typically have access to legal services,” Reich says of the program.

On March 20, the Justice Bus took its maiden voyage to Prescott Valley. Mary Juetten, a second-year law student, spearheaded the event. “Our focus was really on helping people affected by the economic crisis,” Guetten says, “whether that be help with unemployment issues, consumer fraud or mortgage problems. Everyone was really jazzed to make the trip and see how everything worked.”

The response to the Justice Bus in Prescott Valley was favorable. Guetten says she felt she was making a difference in people’s lives when they called for appointments. “They were so grateful to be able to come in and talk to someone in their own town.” In fact, the Justice Bus was such a success in Prescott Valley that it will return their next March in addition to the trip that is now being planned to Southern Arizona. “We’re extremely excited for the fall Justice Bus in Southern Arizona,” says Guetten, “because we learned so much in our maiden voyage and are excited to reach even more people.”

Law School in the Nation’s Law Capital

According to Berman, the law school has recently opened a campus in Washington D.C. “There are faculty permanently stationed in D.C.,” he says. “And students from any school in the country can spend a semester at our campus there, taking classes from our faculty and doing supervised externships for credit. It’s a great way to get a foot in the D.C. legal market.”

Hands-On Law

One of the Class rooms inside the Sandra Day O'Connor College of Law. Photo by Sarah Katz.

Berman says that in the effort to better bridge the gap between law school and law practice, four new clinical programs have been developed, raising the grand total to 11. A clinical program is somewhat similar to a lab for science students, where students work on actual cases with under faculty supervision. The clinic topics vary from domestic violence to a post-conviction clinic in partnership with the Arizona Attorney General and Justice Project.

Cunningham says the clinical program allows students to see classroom theory at work. He says he has been at the Legislature this semester working in the post-conviction clinic. “Inmates can write in claiming their innocence,” he says. “We do DNA tests to see who is actually guilty.”

There’s also a patent clinic at Skysong in which students work with new companies to file for patents. Berman says this is a necessary step for businesses in attracting investors. “The program trains lawyers to work with entrepreneurs and supports future businesses at a crucial stage when they can’t afford lawyers,” he says. “After all, they could be the Googles of tomorrow.”

Sara Little, a 1L student with a sunny disposition and a bright coral dress, says she has wanted to be a lawyer since she was 8, since she could form opinions. Although law school is challenging, she says she has no complaints — or if she does, they are far outweighed by her excitement in doing what she loves. “I love it, honestly,” she says. “I just really wanted to go to Stanford law, but I fell in love with something here. I don’t know what, but whatever it was, it kept me here.”

Little was a philosophy major as an undergraduate — something she says has given her a greater appreciation for substantive law, which is the side of law that focuses on why things happen rather than simply law’s procedural aspects.“My favorite class has been a criminal law class. We looked at cases on a philosophical, moral level,” she says.

Sara starts to smile as she describes her first year of law school. “It’s like the one class you really look forward to as an undergrad student, only for me, that’s every one of my classes now,” she says. “They all have to do with something I’ve committed so much to; they’re all so relevant to what I want to do. I can honestly say I’ve found enjoyment in every class.”

Cunningham has also greatly enjoyed his law school career. “I don’t have rose-colored glasses looking at it and it’s been tough,” he says. “But it’s been very rewarding.” He says he has appreciated the broad nature of the education. “It’s a liberal arts degree at its core. It’s given me the freedom to pursue my interests, and it’s given me a broad sense of what it’s like to be a lawyer,” he says. As the end of the year approaches, Cunningham says he’s looking more and more toward his future career. “I really like a focus on international law,” he says. “I’m considering going into the State Department.”

A Famous Benefactor

It seems that everyone, both students and professors, are excited about the opportunities the Sandra Day O’Connor College of Law has to offer. One of the law school’s greatest assets and supporters is former Supreme Court justice Sandra Day O’Connor herself. Berman says O’Connor visits the school five to 10 times every year.

Little says with excitement that the Ninth Circuit Court was held in the Great Hall at the law school recently, and Sandra Day O’Connor stood in as a justice. “We got to see her hear a case. She also has tea with the Women’s Legal Society every year,” Little says, explaining just how amazing it is to have the first female Supreme Court Justice have tea with female students at the law school.

The ASU Law Journal works closely with the administration to arrange the former justice’s visits to the law school. “Sandra Day O’Connor is always around,” Cummingham says. He says that undergraduate students should be more involved in her lectures and should go hear her speak. “Not all law schools are sponsored by a retired Supreme Court justice,” he says. “Most of them are dead or still serving on the court. Day O’Connor shaped the Supreme Court with her decisions on abortion and religion. It’s very interesting to actually meet a historical figure.”

Opportunities Galore

Little says she is still amazed by the opportunities available at the law school. “It seems like every day I hear of something new,” she says. “There are so many things available to even a 1L student.” She cites a new organization against sex trafficking, 13, at the law school. “Felecia Cantrell started 13 as a 1L student, which is unheard of,” Little says. By participating in the program, she says she has learned Phoenix is a sex trafficking hub due people taking advantage of the steady flow of illegal immigrants across the Mexican border. “The organization helps victims of prostitution,” she explains.

A Future Downtown?

Dean Berman is hopeful about the future of the law school, and students are confident in his ability to lead. “Dean Schiff Berman will stay until midnight if enough people want to talk to him,” Little says.

Berman says the future of the law school will focus on educating a broader cross-section of society. “We’ll become more involved in global, national, regional and local public policy issues,” he says. “We’ll increase both he strength of our student body and our faculty.”

One of Berman’s main concerns is the law facility on the Tempe campus. He says there just isn’t enough space to accommodate the growing program. There has been talk of an exodus of the law school to the Downtown campus. “We desperately need new space, and there would be many advantages of being more integrated into the downtown legal community,” he says, mentioning the capital building and the courts.

A Bright Future

With all of the changes going on at the law school, the Sandra Day O’Conner College of Law is moving up in the world. In the rankings recently released by US News and World Report, the law school jumped 17 places from 55th to 38th. Berman says it was one of the largest increases of any school in the country. Although he feels rankings may be somewhat arbitrary, he says it’s nice to have them recognize the law school for something he’s been saying for a long time, as “one of the innovative leaders in imagining 21st century legal education.”

Contact the reporter at klepain@asu.edu

Marco Regalado waits on customers at Pop Culture in Tempe. Photo by Lauren Melby.

In a small local shop on Ash Avenue, customers meander in and out, leafing through flimsy pages of 8-by-10 comic books. In the back, rows of primary-colored heroes and villains grace the shelves. The wide-eyed heroes gaze from their covers at passersby while the villains menacingly stare down customers looking for the latest edition of their favorite series. The living arrangements are volatile, but characters on both sides of the fence have one thing in common.

The recession isn’t their Kryptonite.

While other entertainment and media industries have taken nosedives in the past few years, the comic book industry seems to have leaped over economic turmoil in a single bound. Industry figures for February show comic book sales have taken a slight downturn in some categories but grown considerably in others, in comparison with five years ago.

Retailers in Tempe can back up that assessment.

Richard Marshall, manager of Pop Culture Paradise on Forest Avenue and Seventh Street, says the recession hasn’t resulted in a “notable amount” of lost customers for the store.

“There are slow days,” Marshall says, “but there really isn’t an incredible drop.”

Drew Sullivan, owner of Ash Avenue Comics and Books, agrees. At worst, newly-unemployed customers will come in and explain their situation, then quickly return in a few months. All in all, the store has been able to keep a relative level of consistency in sales, Sullivan says.

Marshall attributes this to customers coming in with one idea in their heads. “This is worth it to keep me happy and entertained.”

Why, though, are comic books so special? While traditional books (and stocks) from retailers are metaphorically torn apart and strewn across the store, how is the comic book industry still thriving?

Diane Facinelli, professor of “Superheroes and American Culture” at ASU, has a few ideas.

The Professor

“People have always been drawn to heroes who can fix things, who are ideals, who can show what is best in humanity,” she says.

When times are bleak, people turn to comic books as a way to deal with national and international issues. Facinelli points out that Superman became involved with World War II long before America was on board, and in Hollywood’s new interpretation of Ironman, protagonist Tony Stark helps fight the War on Terror.

“Our economy is going down as we’re having more and more trouble with Iraq and Afghanistan and crime and all those issues we can’t seem to face,” Facinelli says. “It is much more attractive to see something like this [through comics].”

The same theory can be applied to a flailing economy, she says. While unemployment rates and gas prices have left many Americans distraught, comics have provided an outlet for citizens losing faith in their leaders.

“[People enjoy] the idea that there is someone out there who will make things right when we’ve maybe lost faith in government being able to do that,” Facinelli says.

Comic books are the perfect medium to accomplish this. In Metropolis or Gotham City, the problems of New York City or Tempe are paralleled but always fixed through human — or perhaps super-human— ingenuity. The stories preach ways for people to change the world or survive it. In short, Facinelli says, a superhero “represents going that extra step” to make the world better.

And the future of the industry looks bright while there are still American obstacles to hurdle. “I think they’ll continue to be popular and grow in popularity as long as we need to look at that,” she says.

The artist

Charles Diab, an English sophomore at ASU, cartoonist for the State Press and comic book reader, agrees with Facinelli, but he says he believes the popularity of comics also stems from the culture surrounding them.

“I don’t know if there’s such a culture geared toward books,” he says.

While traditional books can be borrowed from libraries or reproduced online, comic book fans are forced to buy their material, but Diab says they might prefer it that way.

“If you’ll excuse me — nerds will buy comic books and comic book memorabilia for the sake of showing their dedication to the craft,” he says.

If comic books in a physical format head downhill in the future, though, Diab says they will always have a home. “I think the future of all comics — newspaper comics, graphic novels and even “manga” and more Eastern comics — the future of all of that media is going to be on the Internet,” he says.

He worries about his own future, however, if he eventually makes an attempt to enter the comic book industry.

“Anything that’s artistic — authors, cartoonists, things like that — are generally competitive fields because there’s technically no need for them,” Diab says.

Even authors and artists  that crack the barrier and make it into the industry can end up buried in obscurity, he says. “There are a lot of people trying, but so few actually make it into the [public] consciousness.”

The Fans

Comic books aren't all X-Men and Incredible Hulks. Photo by Lauren Melby.

For those who would rather read than create, though, most seem able to balance a dwindling checking account with a thirst for reading. As Marshall of Pop Culture Paradise puts it, fans like him are willing to make comic books  “a part of their budget.”

Of course, some have bigger priorities.

Casey Russell strolls through Chandler’s Atomic Comics, shopping for new releases while he carries a tiny blond girl of about 7-years-old in his arms.

Russell has a job and has been able to afford even more comic books in the past few years. But with a mortgage to pay, comic books take a backseat for him.

“I’ll keep cable before comic books,” he says, running his thumb across his neck for effect.

Aaron Frazer, a regular at Ash Avenue Comics, can relate. There are days, he says, when decisions have to be made.

“You know, comics …  lunch …” Frazer says, miming a scale with his hands.

“And you can’t eat comics,” manager William Terrance adds.

While Russell and Frazer are willing to put their hobbies on hold, Jason Adams may be the type of customer responsible for the industry’s figures.

Adams says his comic consumption has risen since the recession, and it’s not just because he needs an escape. He says a lot of comics have successfully parodied current events in recent years, and he says he’s glad the world is being shown through the lens of his favorite characters.

He’s not the only one who feels that way. The 2009 release Amazing Spider-Man #583, which features a thumbs-up-toting Barack Obama on the cover, quickly became the best-selling comic book of the decade.

The response to this comic, and others like it, is just one more element to add to the mix of reasons why the industry has survived. It might be the fans, too loyal to give up on their heroes when their wallets flatten. It might be the comics, providing an escape to the fans who need it. It might be both of those and more.

Whatever the reason, Adams’s view of the recession-era comic book industry is darkly humorous.

“Right now, I think the only industry doing better is repossession,” he says.

Contact the reporter at clecher@asu.edu.

ARAMARK's veggies. Photo by Branden Eastwood

At the northern end of the Valley of the Sun, nestled at the feet of the San Tan Mountains, lie fields of trees with dainty jade leaves and gnarled, ancient-looking trunks. These are olive trees, and the fields belong to Queen Creek Olive Mill. The farm grows nine types of olives, all of which make extra virgin olive oil. Some of this oil is bottled, packaged and trucked off to ASU.

Local food contracts (like ASU’s with Queen Creek Olive Mill) are handled by ARAMARK, ASU’s campus food provider.  The Philadelphia-based company is “committed to providing a wide variety of healthy menu options to meet the needs and preferences of the ASU campus community,” says Krystal Nelson, marketing manager for ARAMARK Higher Education.

As a result of recent trends in sustainability, health and “local” awareness, students and staff are increasingly interested not only in the provider of food on campus, but in the specific sources of the ingredients that end up on trays and in stomachs across ASU. So we ask, “What’s on your plate?”

Choices, Choices and More Choices

Campus dining services are present on every ASU campus. The Downtown, Polytechnic and West campuses all have a main dining hall and several restaurants. The Tempe campus has four dining halls: Hassayampa, Pitchforks at the Memorial Union, Manzanita and Barrett, the Honors College. Besides the dining halls, there are several convenience stores and restaurants, including the Hassayampa Market and Engrained.

The dining halls provide a variety of options. Each varies in the degree of selection, but most satisfy the typical college student diet: pizzas, burgers, salads, sandwiches and desserts.

Sitting in a campus dining hall finishing her lunch, business and communications freshman Caitlin Eberle talks about her typical diet. “I like salads, Mexican food and steak – pretty much anything. I try to eat healthily, but it doesn’t work most of the time,” she says. “My will power’s not so strong.”

Eberle does feel, however, that unhealthy foods should be served in the dining halls. “I think it should be up to the individual.”  Pike agrees, expressing that numerous choices make the dining halls more appealing. “We get to select what we want,” she says. “We can make sandwiches. Things aren’t pre-made.”

Gabriela Rosales, psychology junior is a student employee in ARAMARK’s Human Resources Department. She says, “ARAMARK is really trying to bring more sustainable and healthy services to the whole campus.” She says it can be difficult to please the masses because everyone’s tastes can’t be satisfied with one meal. If something is made at Pitchforks, not everyone will like it. ARAMARK tries to remedy this problem by providing students many options to choose from and the opportunity to customize their meals.

Be Healthy

Lasagna and orange juice... the typical college meal? Photo by Branden Eastwood

ARAMARK also tries to provide options to students with allergies, special health concerns and specific dietary lifestyles.

“A lot of dining halls have designated vegetarian stations that are separate from those serving meat,” says campus nutritionist Lexi MacMillen, “though ARAMARK can’t guarantee against contamination of vegetarian foods because dining services is such a gigantic operation.”

She says ARAMARK is in the process of labeling everything so consumers have complete control over the food items they eat. MacMillen says, “We have standardized recipes, and I review them to avoid all allergy and vegetarian concerns.”

She also adds that, as always, students with special needs and concerns should seek out the manager on duty with questions in order to ensure their health is addressed. “If there is any question about the ingredients of a food item, we encourage customers with food allergies not to consume that food item,” she says. “We will make every effort to point out alternative items to the customer.”

Andrew Lacyshyn, executive chef at the Barrett Dining Center, says quality is a top priority for dining services. “The chefs at ASU strive to bring the finest ingredients available to them in the market,” he says. “The recipes are rewritten every semester with an emphasis on innovation, quality, acceptability and ASU student, faculty and staff requests.”

MacMillen’s role on campus is generally focused on ensuring that all students are provided with an “adequate and healthy diet.” She has spoken with several student organizations concerned with varying diet concerns, such as vegetarian groups.

“I try to provide them with information and methods they can use to adhere to their diets.” She says that she tries to be a resource to anyone with a special diet, anyone with special health concerns or anyone who simply wants input on his or her diet. Her recommendations for healthy diets include “superfoods” — foods she says contain many health benefits. She lists soy, nuts, berries, vegetables and whole grains as such superfoods.

Photo by Branden Eastwood.

Sustainable Food

ASU prides itself on being a global leader in sustainability, so it follows that the food served on campus should promote sustainability. Ideally, the food would be grown without harmful pesticides, hormones or carbon-spewing machinery, within a 100 mile radius from campus.

According to ARAMARK sustainability manager for ASU, Katrina Shum, one of ARAMARK’s goals is to provide as much locally-grown food as possible to the University.

“We have worked closely with our food distributors to better identify where produce is actually grown,” she says. “Our chefs aim to design menus that reflect the seasonal availability of items grown in farms around Tolleson, Wilcox and Yuma, Arizona.”

Seasonal availability is reflected in the menu at Engrained, the campus poster child for sustainable food. According to an Engrained flyer, ARAMARK has “six intentions” in operating a sustainable restaurant. These intentions include buying food originating within 150 miles of campus, using food that promotes positive ethical and environmental practices, reducing fuel emissions, reducing the use of finite resources such as paper, supporting meaningful local causes and minimizing waste products through conservation and recycling. Engrained strives to provide as many organic items as possible.

The coffee served is Fair Trade, the beef is free range, the eggs and chickens are cage free and the seafood is sustainable. A list of farms that provide ingredients used at Engrained and other campus dining locations, such as Queen Creek Olive Mill and Seacat Gardens, can be found on the Engrained Web site.

Jerome Fressinier, chef at Engrained, says Engrained serves fish from the Pacific Coast, originated anywhere from Alaska to Monterey Bay. Currently, the salmon is coming from the Aleutian Islands, an archipelago stretching between Alaska and Russia. He says the restaurant is careful to find the freshest fish and to only purchase fish caught through ethical methods.

He specifically mentions avoiding fish caught by gigantic drift nets. “We use a very grass-roots approach,” he says. “With this information, you can go to a grocery store, campus restaurant or other restaurant and ask about the food served. By asking, you’re letting restaurants know what their customers want.”

Dining services on campus try to utilize the various fruit producing trees growing on campus by harvesting Seville oranges, Medjool dates and olives as they come into season and incorporating them into dining hall recipes through the Campus Harvest Program. Engrained’s Web site and flyers say “roughly 12 tons of Seville oranges” are harvested between December and March, allowing ARAMARK to provide students with fresh orange vinaigrette and “Devil-ade,” a uniquely tart and orange-version of lemonade.

However, even with ARAMARK’s efforts to provide fresh and organic produce for students, Eberle says there have been several times she has been unimpressed with the freshness of the apples she has gotten in the dining halls and convenience stores. “Sometimes they look a little iffy and bruised,” she says. “I would like fresher fruit.”

Old McDonald Had a Farm

It can be much safer to get meat that is raised locally or organically because one can speak directly with farmers about how their animals were raised and processed. Through serving free-range beef and cage-free chickens and eggs, ARAMARK strives to connect customers with the farms on which their food was raised, providing consumers with knowledge of what they are eating.

Nelson says meat served on campus is safe and healthy. “We use USDA Choice and Select Beef products sourced from our approved suppliers who meet our high quality standards,” she says. “ARAMARK conducts a rigorous evaluation process before partnering with a supplier to evaluate whether they meet our standards for food safety and quality.” She says vendors are required to have an excellent reputation with food safety and must have a documented, “track-able” product safety and recall program.

Orange You Glad You Paid Attention?

Back in Queen Creek the olives are still growing, as are some vegetables on South Mountain. Moos can be heard at various dairy farms across the Valley, proving “happy cows” don’t only come from California.

Learning about food doesn’t have to be difficult. It can even be fun. The olive mill gives tours, sells bottles of olive oil and even has a Tuscan-style eatery. Take a ride, enjoy the desert scenery and end the day walking through olive groves and enjoying fresh Tuscan cuisine. Or take a walk around campus and look at the signs on some of the trees. It might be a surprise to notice that there are orange trees, grapefruit trees, date palms, and yes, olives.

Contact the reporter at klepain@asu.edu.

This article was written by guest author Allison Gatlin.

The hands. Tiny and callused, they bear the marks of a high bar’s wrath. From across the gym, in a chalky storm, those hands are blurred by fluorescent light. They glow like a high floating cloud.

It is through this cloud that a boy wields his mastery of the bars, swinging dizzily through the air until he is no more than a dark blur against a white wall.

Toes pointed with a perfectionist’s precision. Arms taut against the smooth metal, fighting the gravity that tugs at his 4’9” frame with each elliptical he makes around the bar.

With the ease of years of practice, he dismounts into the foam pit. He flips, heels over head, and lands, sending spouts of foam and dust into the air. Fearless. Free.

Kyle Hausmann is a talented male gymnast in a world that increasingly celebrates the females in his sport.

An athlete finds his niche

He discovered gymnastics when he was 5 years old . “I was too active,” Kyle says. “I was really, really hyper and very, very, very active, and my mom needed me to do something so it would take all my energy away.”

“It worked,” he adds.

After a year of recreational gymnastics at levels one, two and three, Kyle started competing in level four when he was only 6 — a very young age to start competing. Typically most gyms coach up to level 10, at which time the Olympics become a distinct possibility. Most gymnasts do not begin competition until they’re old enough and mature enough to handle the stress of competition.

Now 13, Kyle works out at Southwest Gymnastics Training Center in Tempe for 16 hours a week during the school year and 20 during the summer.

In his free time, he enjoys just being a kid. Like others his age, he plays computer games, scooters and has a family pet. “My sister has a tortoise,” Kyle says. “His name is Alexander because he’s Greek.”

His favorite meet: “Oh, ribs for sure!” he says. “Wait…  you mean in gymnastics? Oh! Hawaii Regional’s in 2007 because I got a whole week off of school and got to miss AIMS!”

Kathi Hausmann, his mother, says he has come a long way from that 5-year-old boy who couldn’t control his natural talent. “He was so crazy and goofy [when he started gymnastics],” Kathi says. “And you would look at him in practice and go, ‘Oh my goodness, I’m wasting my time and money.’ And then he would go to the meets, and he would be like first, second or third.”

He is a level eight gymnast now, training for level nine. Kathi says her son is “focused and working beyond just his natural talent.”

Talent and Titles

He stares ahead, evaluating, calculating. Determined.

Taylor Swift blares on the radio in the background. Chalk glimmers in the air against the fluorescent lights. Coaches shout to other coaches. Boys roughhouse on the sidelines. The ogling eyes of parents penetrate the gym from the viewing room.

Through the din, Kyle focuses.

He stands tall, toes raised, arms reached for the ceiling. He pauses for a moment — muscles tensed — before hurdling forward. Hands and feet alternate, taking turns ferociously slamming the ground with his powerful tumbling. The springs under the floor groan, throwing him higher and higher with each back-handspring.

And then he’s off. Rotating through the air, like a living firecracker.

As quickly as he takes off through the air, he lands. Arms outstretched, steadying. His eyes: focused, determined.

But Kyle knows that determination will not be all he needs to make it as a male gymnast in what is becoming a predominantly women’s sport since the introduction of Title IX in 1972.

What was meant to create equal educational rights for men and women had unforeseen ramifications for men’s collegiate sports teams, oftentimes depleting their funding in favor of women’s.

“It’s hardest on the youngest kids right now to find a college that offer men’s gymnastics scholarships,” says Monique Auger, the men’s gymnastics team manager at Arizona State University.

Only 17 colleges and universities nationwide still fund their men’s gymnastics teams. Others, like ASU, are privately funded through fundraising, a booster club and donations. This means that on top of school, gym and part-time jobs, the men raise 60 percent of their own funding through hosting junior meets and clinics, setting up equipment for local junior competitions, building competition floors for local gyms and scoring junior competitions, Auger says.

She adds that Title IX has not affected ASU women’s gymnastics, which the university still funds.

Kathi Hausmann says she’s not worried about Kyle’s future in the sport.

“Right now he wants to be a policeman, and that doesn’t even involve doing any gymnastics,” she says. “But he also wants to be an architect, and he wants to start his own business. One time he asked me, ‘What should I do first, Mom? Go to the Olympics, be an architect or start my own business? Which one should I do first?’”

Practice Makes Perfect

Photo by Allison Gatlin.

Kyle’s muscles remain tense. It’s become second nature to him: the tight muscles and pointed toes, and as with everything he does, he does it with perfection.

He prepares for this day, like every day at the gym, with stretching. Inch by inch he pulls, twists and rotates his body to find its limits, and then he pushes more.

“My left leg’s not very good,” he says, sliding his leg to a nearly perfect split, mere inches from the ground.

He tightens his muscles as he slowly pushes himself farther into the split, ignoring the protest from his unyielding muscles.

It’s that work ethic again, the same work ethic that both Kyle and his coach believe make for a perfect gymnast in a sport that requires strength of mind over body.

“It’s a tough sport,” says Brock Anstine, Kyle’s coach and Southwest Gymnastics owner. “Gymnastics is one of those sports that require a certain amount of intelligence because as skills become more complicated, you have to be able to think pretty quickly and to figure out how things work.”

“When he gets in, he works hard,” Anstine says. “He’s younger and more advanced. He’s hanging in there with my older guys skill-wise, and he could potentially have a shot at qualifying for Junior Nationals as a level nine in May.”

Right now, though, Kyle is content just to enjoy the sport itself and face the gender wall surrounding gymnastics when the time comes.

His favorite skill: A handstand swing all the way around the high bar (his favorite event). “It’s really fun to go around and around and around and it makes you really dizzy.”

Meet the ASU gymnasts

In a world where women dominate and men fall to the wayside, it’s easy to forget how it all began with the inception of Title IX and the gender wall built which began to block men from gymnastics. Where did it all begin and who is it still affecting? Meet the men  ASU gymnastics.

ASU Men's Gymnastics team during the "Stack the Table" event. Courtesy of ASU Men's Gymnastics

• ASU’s men’s gymnastics team was founded in 1955 by head coach Norris Steverson.
• The ASU men lost their funding in 1993 and are now a club.
• In the 2009 school year, the ASU men’s gymnastics team has 20 gymnasts led by head coach Scott Barclay.
• To donate or get involved, sundevilgymnastics.com

Contact the reporter at ajgatlin@asu.edu

A student at "Camp Darfur" held at ASU West reads facts about human rights violations. Photo by Branden Eastwood

As students sit in comfortable, taking lecture notes or updating Facebook statuses, millions of people around the world are suffering the depletion of their human rights; rights that are sometimes taken for granted.

According to the United Nations’ Universal Declaration of Human Rights, no human shall be tortured, exiled or enslaved, and all humans have the freedom of property, thought, speech and the right to work.

These seem like simple rights to have, but in reality these rights are not attainable for all global citizens because of war and government interference.

Many human rights issues are on the minds of ASU students today including the genocide in Darfur and fair trade among farmers across the world. For these reasons, many students from across all four campuses have banded together to improve human rights all around the world in a local way.

Organizations such as Global Politics Students (GPS), Community Outreach and Advocacy Refugees (COAR), and United Students for Fair Trade address issues across the globe in order to change the world. Defending human rights is a major foundation for these students and it is their core basis for educating and raising awareness.

Drawings by children experienced human rights conflicts. Photo by Branden Eastwood.

An open forum for global discussion

Political science sophomore Noelle Beydoun started Global Politics Students during the Fall 2009 semester in order to open a non-partisan discussion about current issues such as the war in Afghanistan, the protests in Iran and the conflict in Darfur.

“It’s an open dialogue to discuss and debate these issues,” Beydoun says. “We discuss policy reforms and think of good ways to solve these problems from here on campus. We have international students with international experience and they tell us about the politics.”

GPS member and political science senior Gustavo Pizarro says he likes the organization because of the diversity of the students in the group and the things he learns about government policies and cultures of other countries.

Pizarro is a first-generation American, whose parents emigrated from Peru. He says due to his family’s history in a different country, he has always been interested in global politics, especially subjects relating to immigration and refugees.

“A lot of the times, the issues we talk about are not the hot story of the day,” Pizarro says.

Beydoun says through GPS, group members are participating in Michael Crow’s Seven Challenges, specifically “How do we defend and extend human rights?”

In addition to opening a forum, Beydoun and fellow GPS members are planning a fund raising event for the spring semester, featuring Kerry Kennedy, the founder of the Robert F. Kennedy Center for Justice and Human Rights.

“It’s a really ambitious idea and event, but we’re working very hard on accomplishing it,” Beydoun says. “I definitely think we can pull it off.”

The proceeds from the event will go to future events to raise awareness and a scholarship for those who study human rights and social justice.

“I think it’s very important to become more and more ‘globalized’ because we’re a much smaller world now. You can’t just say it’s happening over there in a different country. We have the power to make a difference.”

Pizarro and Beydoun agree that change can take place right here on campus.

“We are thinking globally, but acting locally,” Pizarro says. “We’re just trying to make a difference.”

GPS meets every other Tuesday at 4:30 p.m. at ASU West CLCC room 154.

Fair Trade Across Economic Divides

Students and staff attend "Camp Darfur" at ASU West. Photo by Branden Eastwood

According to the Make Trade Fair advocacy group, fair trade is a “trading partnership, based on dialogue, transparency and respect, that seeks greater equity in international trade.”

“Fair trade promotes an economic system that is equal for producers and the environment,” says Kim Pearson, asustainability sophomore and president of United Students for Fair Trade. “It ensures work is safe, producers are paid fair wages and organics are made without the use of genetically modified organisms (GMOs).”

USFT, established last year, holds a variety of fundraisers to raise awareness about the production and consumption of fair trade products.

Most recently, the organization raised money at Cartel Coffee Lab, which donated 25 percent of proceeds to sustainability organizations across the valley. They also held a fair trade fashion show on campus sustainability day on October 21 in collaboration with USG Green Team.

USFT reaches out to the general public with a booth during First Fridays and shows documentaries on ASU campuses to raise Fair Trade awareness.

Pearson says buying fair trade products is a start in supporting economic policy change. Fair trade products are known to be a bit more expensive, but Pearson believes that paying extra is for quality and the guarantee that a human was not exploited while making the product.

“When you buy fair trade, you’re paying with a peace of mind,” Pearson says. “You know when you buy it, there was no child labor, no slave labor and the environment is being cared for. When you buy quality, you don’t need to buy it so frequently.”

The United Students for Fair Trade meet every Monday at 7 p.m. in the Tempe Barrett Honors Dorm Room Cereus 101.

Tents at "Camp Darfur." Photo by Branden Eastwood

Giving refugees a second chance in a new environment

Community Outreach and Advocacy for Refugees (COAR) is an organization at ASU Tempe campus and West campus that works with refugees in Phoenix during their assimilation into American culture.

COAR was established in 2002 and has since expanded into an independent non-profit organization with an office on Mill Avenue. COAR lends a helping hand to refugee families and high school students.

“COAR really is a friendship program,” says  Kelli Donley, executive director of COAR. “Volunteers step in at a pivotal moment in these families’ lives and offer friendship. It sounds simple, but it’s wildly successful.”

There are three programs within COAR, the Reaching Higher Program, the Volunteer Anchor Program and the Awareness and Adovocacy Program.

COAR Programs director and ASU West chapter vice president  Rema Beydoun has worked with the organization since 2007. She is currently in her first semester in the Social Justice and Human Rights master’s program. In past years, she has worked with an Iraqi family as part as the Volunteer Anchor Program and also a Cuban refugee high school student as part as the Reaching Higher Program.

COAR was present at “Camp Darfur” at ASU West on November 18 and 19. Camp Darfur was a collaboration of many campus human rights groups. Tents were set up in order to provide a simulation for students to see a glimpse in the life of a refugee from Darfur.

“Volunteers are the bread and butter of organizations like this,” Beydoun says. “It’s very important to have events like [Camp Darfur] to raise awareness. It’s what keeps this at a local level. You don’t have to study abroad or fly somewhere to help out and make a difference.”

Donley and Beydoun said that the simplest task can be the most impacting on a refugee’s life.

“It can be as complicated as filling out a FAFSA form for their eldest son to attend school or as simple as signing up for a library card to pick up a book to learn how to read,” Donley says. “They appreciate any help.”

COAR is not a resettlement agency, but works directly with Lutheran Social Services and the International Rescue Committee.

“The community support is where they [refugees] really fall short,” Beydoun said.

For more information on how to become a COAR volunteer, visit: www.coarweb.org.

Reach the reporter at erica.m.rodriguez@asu.edu .

Cannabis Sativa. Photo by Branden Eastwood

Between Oct. 1 2008 and Sept. 30 2009, the Arizona State University Police Department made 173 arrests involving drugs, all of which involved marijuana or marijuana paraphernalia, according to ASU police record.

While Marijuana isn’t the leading cause of arrests at ASU, its growing presence reflects a trend both campus and nationwide.

In September 2009, the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services published the National Survey on Drug Use and Health. The survey found that over 100 million Americans have tried marijuana. The survey also found that almost 6,000 Americans try marijuana for the first time every day. The mean age of the new marijuana smokers is 17.8 years, slightly older than last year’s finding.

A survey published in July 2008 in PLoS Medicine, a journal of the Public Library of Science, found that marijuana usage in the United States is far higher than in any other country.

According to PLoS, drug use is not simply related to drug policy, “since countries with stringent user-level illegal drug policies did not have lower levels of use than countries with liberal ones.”

Proposed Voter Initiative for Medical Marijuana

In November 2010, Arizona voters will have the chance to place a new initiative on the ballot. The Arizona Medical Marijuana Policy Project is campaigning to allow Arizonans to vote on the “Arizona Medical Marijuana Act,” which would make Arizona the 14th state to legalize medical marijuana.

The proposed law would allow patients with specified medical conditions to obtain marijuana after first receiving a doctor recommendation. Andrew Myers, campaign manager for the AMMPP, says marijuana has certain medical advantages for those with cancer, Parkinson’s disease, HIV and AIDS.

“If we’re going to have a war over marijuana, we should at least take the sick and the dying off the battlefield,” Myers says.

Many ASU students support the bill and a number of them are currently working for the campaign, Myers adds.

Patients under the proposed initiative would receive medical marijuana from 120 dispensaries around the state. These dispensaries would be held under a set of regulations and would be inspected by the Arizona Department of Health Services.

Currently, the proposed measure is in the signature-gathering stage. The Arizona Medical Marijuana Act will need to get 153,165 valid signatures by July 1 in order to appear on the November ballot.

Drug Effects

The National Institute on Drug Abuse states that THC, the active ingredient in marijuana, acts on certain areas of the brain known as cannabinoid receptors. The centers of the brain with the highest concentration of these receptors are the ones “that influence pleasure, memory, thoughts, concentration, sensory and time perception, and coordinated movement,” according to the NIDA.

The effects of marijuana influence these receptors, causing difficulty in thinking and problem solving, loss of coordination, distorted perceptions and problems with learning and memory.

According to the NIDA, “marijuana’s adverse impact on learning and memory can last for days or weeks after the acute effects of the drug wear off. As a result, someone who smokes marijuana every day may be functioning at a suboptimal intellectual level all of the time.”

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention warns that the chronic effects of marijuana include “short-term memory impairment and slowness of learning,” “decreased sperm count,” difficulties with prenatal development, and “impaired immune response.”

ASU Students and Marijuana

For anonymity, the names in this section have been changed.

Student marijuana usage. Photo by Alexandra Karamanova.

None of the students interviewed use marijuana for medical purposes, but instead use it for recreation.

Meet Charles, a Bioengineering major with a 4.2 GPA. Before the interview, Charles popped a couple Vicodin, lit up a joint, and opened a beer. He began smoking marijuana on a high school retreat his freshmen year. Since then, it has been a fairly steady practice.

“I normally smoke, like, once a week,” says Charles.

Also present was Ivan, a sophomore mathematics major, and David, a freshman English major. Ivan, unlike Charles, didn’t start smoking marijuana in high school.

Ivan says that while he decided to start smoking in college, he couldn’t find anyone to smoke with during his first semester at ASU.  He has progressed to smoking almost every day since.

He says he started seeing money in terms of how much marijuana he could buy. After getting his wisdom teeth out over the summer, Ivan traded his prescribed Vicodin medication into funds for marijuana.

“I got my prescription and I literally said, ‘How much weed can I get with this?” Ivan says.

The current street price for a gram of “good” marijuana is about $20, according to all three students. The price depends on the quality as well as its status. Certain “designer” strains of marijuana such as “White Widow” or “Woodstock” are much more expensive, says Ivan.

Ivan says despite the risks, he has been in cars with strangers so that he could buy marijuana.

Charles says he doesn’t go to dealers. Instead he pays $5 extra to have the marijuana delivered to his house.

“There’s a difference between someone who sells pot and someone who deals drugs,” Charles said. “Your average [drug] dealer is someone who just wants to make enough to smoke for free.”

Jacob, a marijuana grower and former dealer, disagrees.

“Selling weed is just like selling coke,” says Jacob. “The money goes to bad people 99 percent of the time.”

Jacob says he once purchased a quarter-pound of marijuana for $1100. He says the person he bought from would drive to San Diego, buy marijuana from a gang, and return to Arizona. One month after buying the quarter-pound, he says the man who sold it to him was shot.

Jacob started smoking in 7th or 8th grade. He says the motivation to smoke came from older kids he respected. Jacob says that both his parents smoke as well. After he started, he continued throughout high school, but says he quit smoking once for two years. He says he was motivated to quit after realizing a difference in his thinking.

“My cognitive abilities definitely go down [because of marijuana],” Jacob says. “It’s noticeable for me.”

Jacob says marijuana is primarily sold through word of mouth. When he sold marijuana, Jacob says he would convince new buyers that they were getting better quality than they actually received.

“We just made up the most ridiculous names,” Jacob says. “Many times it was just the exact same stuff from the exact same batch, but each time [the buyers] would tell us it got better and better.”

Jacob continues to smoke but believes it might be time to stop again soon. He says that if he could change anything about his past involving marijuana, he wouldn’t have sold marijuana with his friends at ASU.

“We didn’t realize the risks we were taking,” says Jacob.

The Laws

A female Marijuana plant well before a harvest. Photo by Branden Eastwood

In Arizona, the laws surrounding marijuana use are extremely strict. According to The Bulletin of Cannabis Reform, Arizona has the second-highest penalty for one ounce possession in the country, behind Florida. In Arizona, possession charges for one ounce or less can result in prison sentences for up to one and a half years, accompanied by $150,000 in fines. Compare this to California, which generally charges a fine of $100 for possession of an ounce or less.

ASU students face an additional set of sanctions imposed by the university. According to the University Student Initiatives Manual, sanctions will be imposed upon those who violate the policy which may include “suspension or expulsion and may also include the requirement that the student participate in a drug education or assessment.”

Contact the reporter at sbauge@asu.edu

The scene at the Castle Sports Club on this particular evening is not the usual ‘hoo-rah’ of most sports events. There are girls on roller skates wearing pirate costumes, tutus and baseball uniforms and it’s well past Halloween. The crowd gathers around a flat track carefully laid out by tape and the announcers go by the names ‘Fred Nutz’ and ‘Sick Girl’. Welcome to the world of roller derby.

It’s the opening night of its seventh season and the Arizona Roller Derby (AZRD)  is preparing for its triple header bout with the Surly Gurlies, the Brawlarinas and the Bad News Beaters. The anticipation is high as the girls are lined up for the first bout of the evening.

“I have to be on that line. I get nervous when I’m on that line,” says Art junior Hannah Langmade aka Gratuitous Violet. “I see the blockers and I know that they are going to kick my ass.”

Roller derby is making a comeback and a group of Arizona’s own women are a part of the movement.

Derby Girls

Stretching Before Practice

Langmade skates for the Surly Gurlies and is in her second year playing derby for AZRD, but she grew up with the sport. Her older sister is a derby girl. “I guess you could say my sister started it, but I continued it,” she says.

Like Langmade, many girls join derby because of someone they look up to or because they want to try something new and fun with friends, says Lynn Violanta aka Rayna Rage, a volunteer and outreach coordinator for a local charity, who is in her sixth season with AZRD.

Having been around for a while, Violanta says she has seen someone from almost every kind of background. “We have a pretty dynamic group of girls,” she says.

Roller derby is female dominated pastime and is popular for women of all ages (18+), shapes, and sizes. The team has quite the range of people. From girls who are shockingly tattooed and with piercings to the girl next door and even a fair share of teachers.

“It’s definitely an exciting counter-culture experience that defies much of what we know about gender norms,” says Ben Wood-Isenberg a non-profit leadership and management and global studies senior who attended the bout out of curiosity and to see something different.

There are a lot stereotypes surrounding girls that join roller derby. Stereotypes that try to define the kind of girls they are, Hassing says. But truth is, the girls form a very eclectic group that doesn’t mold to any of the stereotypes out there.

“I was very surprised, but pleasantly so, to find that a lot of the girls are educated,” she says. “They’re mothers, they’re wives, they have a good head on their shoulders.”

Most of the women are independent, spit-fire girls, says Hassing. All the women like to stand on their own have their own attitudes and roller derby is a great way for them to do that.

“It’s girls with tattoos up and down their arms, piercing, gages,” Langmade says. “But when we put skates on we have to work together as a team and try to be the best.”

Violanta agrees, roller derby has a place form every woman. Regardless of your type, you can find a strength she says. The whole experience looks like a blast and not to mention a bonding experience.  As one can see at the bouts, there is a strong camaraderie between the girls.

Many women jokingly say that Derby saved their life, says Violanta, because its given them a new opportunity beyond the life that they had led previous to.

Dress ‘em Up to Knock ‘em Down

One of the most intriguing aspects of Roller Derby would definitely be the the attire. As the rebels of the athletic world, derby tosses the traditional team uniform out the window and embraces something with a little more character.

Making The Rounds

“There are very few sports where you can dress up like a pirate, skate around in circles and it be acceptable,”  Wood-Isenberg says.

Langmade says she likes the costumes because they’re fun. “I get to dress up, I get to look pretty, then I get to get my [butt] kicked.”

From frilly bloomers to white face paint, almost anything goes in the world of roller derby attire.

But you can’t dress yourself as a character unless you have an alter ego to go along with it. One of the most piquant aspects of the sport are the aliases that each girl rolls with when they are skating.

“It helps us hone in to our competitive spirit and our personalities that we take on when we’re in costume and on our skates,” Hassing says.

The names are a nod to the fact that the girls just want to have fun, and they want fans to see it as a fun sport too, Hassing adds.

Ann T. Madder, Hassing’s alter ego is a reference to her science teacher days. Like anti matter, Hassing says she hopes to destroy everything on the track.

“A lot of us have a hard time even remembering each others real names,” she says.“We usually refer to the skater names.”

The resurgence of roller derby, an American-born sport, has roots that date back to the early 1920s

Roller derby was created to be a spectacle in which skaters would exaggerate hits and falls, making it more of a show than a sport.

“Back then it was kind of like boxing,” Hassing says. “There were very little rules involved. Most people watched it because they liked to see the fights.”

Sick of fake hits and staged falls, the man who is credited for the creation of roller derby, Leo Seltzer, sought out to legitimize the sport. By the early 1950s, roller derby leagues began sprouting up nationwide with rules and proper conduct added to the game, although full-contact was still permitted.

Cue the Women’s Flat Track Derby Association (WFTDA). Since 2004 the organization has been the presiding body for women’s flat-track roller derby. WFTDA has standardized flat-track roller derby by setting up rules and safety standards. The association provides structure and makes for fair competitions among WFTDA leagues.

Even though there are still leagues who abide by the spectacle element, roller derby has evolved into legitimate athletic pastime.

“We are not so interested in the spectacle, as we are in actually playing the game,” Hassing says. “And we are not willing to compromise the way we play.”

Roller Derby: A Sport

Facts of The Game. A sticker on the back of a helmet

Day in and day out, the derby girls practice perfecting maneuvers and refining their skating skills. But is the the school-yard activity one used to do as a child, skating in circles around the block, really a sport?

“If you’ve ever been a roller derby girl, you would say ‘absolutely,’” Hassing says. “We bust our butts off, we are very concerned with athleticism and there is definitely a strategy to the way that you play the game.

Mark Weckerly, a global studies senior says he was really surprised by how much endurance the skaters have.

Although sport has not yet integrated itself into the mainstream world of athletics, the WFTDA has leagues established across the country that participate in competitions each year.

“Id love for it to become a nationally recognized sport,” says Violanta.

That dream may not be too far from reality. Since the WFTDA standardization of everything in derby, some see it as a more reputable activity. Even if there are a few things that set them apart, but a little ‘different’ never hurt anyone.

“We try to be punk and edgy, but there is a lot of qualities that are the same in baseball, football and soccer,” Langmade says. “We want to be athletes and we want to be recognized as athletes.”

Between all the pushing and booty-bumping these girls are not the lot to be messed with. Behind those tutus and pirate garb there lies a true athlete who is not afraid to take a hit. Unlike many of the other female dominated sports out there, roller derby is a full contact sport.

“[Boys] have football, they have hockey, they have soccer. Give us something,” Langmade says.

But she emphasizes that the league is very safe in practice and on the track. The girls are thoroughly trained before being allowed to skate. Otherwise the pose a threat to not only themselves but to the other girl on the track.

“Women have progressed to this day in age to be a little bit more aggressive and be little more independent and have a little more attitude,” Hassing says. “Roller derby in contact has given them a way to express that.”

Read more about the derby breakdown.

Contact the reporter at janice.vega@asu.edu

The video below is a State Press Television special. It profiles the Derby Dames, who are not a part of the WFTDA, but are another derby league in the Phoenix area.

The Derby Breakdown. Photo by Branden Eastwood

Continued from Talk Derby to Me

For the novices, press secretary and safety marshal, Amber Hassing aka Ann T. Madder, gives a basic run-down of the game:

• The event is called a “bout”. Each match is called a “jam” and consists of two teams. Each team has three positions: jammer, blocker and pivot.
• The goal of the game is to score as many points for your team by assisting your jammer in breaking through the “pack” or group of skaters.
• To score points, the jammer, who is identified by the star on their helmet, must lap everyone on the opposing team before the clock runs out on the two-minute jam. For each player the jammer passes in the pack, a point is earned and whoever has the most points wins.
• The role of the blockers, who form the derby pack, is to prevent the opposing teams jammer from: Getting through pack, which can be achieved by blocking any openings in the pack or direct physical contact such as a hip-check or shoulder check. Prevent the opposing teams blockers from assisting the opposing jammer by knocking them out of play or assist their own teams jammer through the pack via maneuvers such as the whip-through and creating openings for them to get through the pack and score points.
• The pivot also serves as a blocker and is identified by a center stripe on their helmet. The pivot is stationed at the front of the pack and controls how fast or slow the pack travels and directs their team on moves and strategies to use while in play.

Contact the reporter at janice.vega@asu.edu