Anthony Dean-Harris

It Honestly is More Than Just Grass Anthony Harris Opinions Section Editor anthonydeanharris@gmail.com Every now and then, I tend to write things with lofty ideas.  I sit at my laptop with the thought that I can teach my beloved school about Faulknerian universal truths (“love and honor and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice” according to his 1949 Nobel Prize acceptance speech) and most of all truth.  Many feel that I often miss my point. One week ago, I published what was possibly my most accepted article.  The one about the seemingly insignificant grass.  What many people said to me and thought about the article was that I spent so long on an issue that seems rather small.  I felt I was lucky that my article was read at all amidst the grand hubbub of secret societies.  Still, many did not see the issue that I was presenting, and therefore I take the opportunity to elucidate my main point. My argument was not merely a...

These Preposterous Secret Societies Anthony Harris Opinions Section Editor anthonydeanharris@gmail.com I read the first page of last week’s paper the same time as the rest of the campus.  In fact, I read it briefly after everyone else.  My normal routine on Wednesdays is to see if someone is reading the newspaper on the second floor of Brawley, then run to the cafeteria to get a few copies.  Imagine my surprise to see the entire front page plastered with stories of secret societies. Reading MT16 (that’s what we call the issues in the journalism biz) was an experience.  I devoured article after article about the entrenchment of the SGA by 2TO and their battles with Sons of Thetes.  As I read, I found myself asking many questions about how poorly planned these endeavors were. Why in God’s green earth were these organizations taking notes?  Have we learned nothing from Malcolm X’s West Indian Archie?  Memorize everything...

The Student is Not the Client: It’s More Than Just Grass Anthony Harris Opinions Section Editor anthonydeanharris@gmail.com About a couple of weeks ago, the weather was absolutely beautiful.  The first Hump Wednesday of the new semester was moving from inside Archer to outside Kilgore.  Classes had ended for most everyone on campus.  The sun was out.  I was considerably less grouchy.  I left Brawley Hall to head to my room and get my Frisbees.  I was going to play in my grass. My fellow angry columnist, Alexander Brown, and some other friends of mine were tossing Frisbees for a good ten minutes before other brothers, following our example, started tossing a football in front of Graves.  Thirty minutes into our festivities, a campus police officer approached us and shooed us off the grass. I informed him of page 108 of the Morehouse College student handbook stating we were allowed to use the grass.  He wanted...