The Observer, October 14, 2005
Volume XXXVIII, Issue 7
Campus improvements must begin in the community
Five years ago, when I was a freshman, Case (then CWRU) had a bad logo, negligible name recognition, and a disaffected student body. Today, despite the new dorms, Frank Gehry building and glossy PR campaign, not much has changed.
When I tell people in my New York hometown where I received my bachelor's degree, my dentist is the only person who offers an enthusiastic response. Most people shoot me a puzzled look and ask if I attended some kind of military academy.
Clearly, they missed the Case commercial on TRL.
Over the past few years, Case has dumped big bucks into a massive campaign geared toward making over the school's image. Like a dorky kid who ditches the glasses and trades a pocket protector for an iPod, campus administrators seem to think that cosmetic changes will allow Case to hang with NYU and Emory at the cool table. But just as hip accessories won't mask a penchant for Halo 2, a sleek website won't improve campus aesthetics.
When I was in school, the Master Plan was hailed as the omnipotent solution to every student gripe. But now that the North Residential Village, the crowning jewel of the plan, has finally been constructed, Case is still left clutching its pocket protector.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. Under the Master Plan, student complaints were supposed to dissipate and alumni donations were supposed to stream in. Instead, the university is running a $37 million budget deficit and the Princeton Review ranks Case 19 out of 361 schools for having the least happy students.
Those certainly aren't the kind of results that a multi-million dollar investment should yield.
So where did Case go wrong?
As an urban university, Case has a role – and a responsibility – to play an active role in developing the economic and social fabric of Cleveland. I would argue that for the school to flourish academically and socially, it is imperative that the surrounding neighborhood flourish as well. This means that campus improvements must expand beyond the scope of dorms and dining halls and include the adjoining community.
While schools that genuinely represent some of the most powerful leaning environments in the world – Yale, University of Chicago, and University of Pennsylvania, for instance – have embarked on impressive neighborhood transformation initiatives, Case has been all too content to invest in high-speed internet.
Consequently, the streets surrounding the NRV are barren and blighted. While the new housing units are loaded with amenities, the adjacent areas are occupied by surface parking lots, dilapidated housing, abandoned storefronts, and a sorry string of fast food restaurants. There are no off-campus grocery or convenience stores in the vicinity, let alone book shops, late-night dining options or student-friendly boutiques.
Instead of focusing on campus-based development efforts, Case needs to leverage its investment capital to support neighborhood improvement activities. Strengthening the Euclid commercial corridor, stimulating the housing market, and enhancing streetscapes would generate a dynamic urban environment could benefit both students and local residents. A vibrant, active, and organic street scene would engender more student fulfillment than any contrived class officer event ever could.
This Homecoming weekend, Hundert will inevitably spout rhetoric about "envisioning a new Case" and "creating a culture of transformation." I urge alumni to do something the administrators neglected to do: look beyond the boundaries of campus and imagine what Case – and its neighborhood – could be.
It's time for the university to play an active role in its community and forge a connection that has nothing to do with a gigabit network.
