The University of North Dakota has a similar patient on life support—the Fighting Sioux name. This is a death that has been forthcoming since the very beginnings of the lawsuit against the NCAA several years ago. Instead of admitting the (sometimes outwardly) racist undertones of the name and finding a new, non-offensive mascot/name, the State Board of Higher Education decided to shove a ventilator down the throat of that Sioux head seen everywhere at the Engelstad Arena.

Just as the patient in the first paragraph suffers, a fairly sizeable group of our student body continues to feel the effects of racism, ignorance and intolerance from other UND students, alumni and members of the Grand Forks community. That group, in case it wasn’t clear from the above sentence, is made up of the Native American students on campus. Statements I’ve heard from people around the campus and the community are unjust, ignorant and borderline abhorrent. I’ve heard jokes, stupid comments, and the use of Ralph Englestad’s supposed second-favorite derogatory moniker (after the Fighting Sioux, of course) to describe Native Americans that doesn’t deserve repeating.

I’ve long held the belief that this campus community and the greater Grand Forks and Minnesota/North Dakota community at large don’t deserve the Fighting Sioux nickname. Claiming you “honor” the “tradition” of the Sioux is half-hearted at best when you turn around and make comments relating to the very real problem of alcoholism on American Indian reservations. I can’t tell you how many people have said that the reason why the name change should not happen is because of its “tradition.” If I place a flaming bag of crap on your front doorstep every day for a week, would you appreciate my reasoning to continue doing it in the days and months to come being based on the “tradition” I’ve now established?

A friend, for whom I respect greatly, told me a few weeks ago that if/when the Fighting Sioux name is changed, he would not donate to the university in the future. I’ve heard several alumni make the same claims. Are the alumni of this University as stupid as they claim? Basing your monetary donations not on the educational experiences you had during your tenure at this school but instead on the sporting events that you spent 1/64th of your time here attending is preposterous.

President Kelley, Chancellor Goetz, SBHE President Smith—it’s time to pull the plug. This battle has gone on for far too long. If you were to reach out to native students on campus, you’d realize that the Fighting Sioux name does a lot to propogate a racist attitude amongst students and other community members on campus. I’ve experienced this myself as a member of the Jewish community on campus.

During the “guest” segment of the show, I discussed the work I’m doing as part of my Masters degree in Education at the University of North Dakota. For those of you interested in what I’m doing, in the space below you’ll find several links that I’ve come across over the past few years relating to my thesis project:

For those interested in an interesting, yet long and academic read, my Honors thesis (PDF warning) provides a general overview of the basis for and type of program I’d like to run.

The primary studies from the 1960s and 1970s mentioned in the podcast are from Federal Aviation Administration educators Lee Conway and Mervin K. Strickler.

The Conway study can be found here.

Strickler’s study can be found here.

Both are excellent and informative reads.

Now, I’m always open to suggestions and offers of funding. If you are interested, I can be reached at martin.rottler (at) gmail.com. Thanks for the read!

First things first: let me correct the all-too-common misconception noted above. Any Mexican restaurant worth its margarita salt would know that there’s no such thing as “gravy.” Instead, this “topping” is normally called “chili.” Unfortunately lost on the Mexican restaurants here, the color has much to do with the ingredients and spiciness of the food and not by which to properly accentuate a poor excuse for enchiladas. An excellent Mexican restaurant would be able to serve this “gravy” on its own, with or without something for it to cover. After experiencing lackluster Mexican at two well-known (and, who the hell knows why–well liked) restaurants here in town, henceforth to be known as Helladiso and Mexican Municipality, I’ve been incredibly disappointed in this city’s judgement skills when it comes to dining–especially from a cultural perspective.

While it would be perfectly easy for me to overly generalize about Grand Forks and its lack of culture, I’d be telling a lie. Grand Forks and the greater region as a whole does have a prevalent Norwegian/Swedish culture. This culture is one of strange foodiness–one that offers a unique blend of a bland copy of the tortilla/pita and fish soaked in poison. Having experienced actual Norwegian and Swedish cuisine on numerous occasions, I’m apt to wonder where we went wrong here in this Norwegian-descended part of the United States. Of course, any countryman that moves from a place with some of the greatest fish in the world (seriously…the salmon I ate in Norway was about the best I’ve ever come across) to a place prevalent with walleye is already handicapping themselves.

Unfortunately, Americanized Norwegian food is not the only thing subject to being bland and potentially poisionous. These terms instead seem to apply to most of the restaurants in this city, which tells us that lacking taste/spice and potentially dangerous foods are in-demand here. This makes sense, especially across the “cultural” restaurant span of the city. Just like Mexican Municipality, the Large Fence buffet and its other Asian-themed restaurants offset foods that would normally be spicy with their blander, inbred cousins. In addition, anyone who’s visited these restaurants is apt to know that they feel closer to death after a few trips through the buffet.

While I’d love to see the city drenched in Siriracha and littered with jalopeno peppers, I doubt it’ll happen in the time I have left in this city. Regardless of what I might want or think, this part of the country seems to be set in its “chips and sauce” ways (sauce? really? There are any number of images conjured up with this name, none of which are very appetizing.). I guess those of us craving food in places where people won’t order the “SALSA RO-JAH” will just have to continue escaping elsewhere. After all, one can dream, can’t they?

http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/benjamin_zander_on_music_and_passion.html

For those of you that aren’t familiar with TED, you really should head over to TED.com and have a look around.

To date, I’ve had the opportunity to visit three of the six countries from which I originate. If you include Judaism into the mix, I’ve also visited my deeply ancestral homeland of Israel as well. To visit these countries is one thing—nowhere have I found Italian food as good as the pasta I ate at a former hippy commune in Tuscany—but to walk in the footsteps of my relatives, I found, is something completely different. To date, my family has been able to track down the records for one small part of who I am: the location of the marriage of my great-great-great grandparents on the outskirts of Dublin.

I’ve had a long love affair with Ireland, and more specifically, Dublin. After my first 22 hour visit in 2006 (where I averaged a little bit less than a half pint of Guinness an hour), I became enamored with the absolute beauty of the country and the incredible nature of its people. Nearly everywhere I went, I managed to find a new friend. When my sister decided late in 2008 that she would apply to study abroad in Dublin, I applauded her efforts wholeheartedly—not only for her benefit, but mine as well, since it would likely result in yet another visit to one of my favorite countries in the world.

This November, after a long flight across the pond with Northwest Airlines and a shorter flight with Aer Lingus, I found myself stepping out into the arrivals area of the Dublin airport. Unlike last time, where I arrived to no one but myself, my mom and grandpa were waiting for me. This trip to visit my sister was a full-on family affair. My parents and grandparents had traveled from Denver a few days prior…thus fulfilling my grandma’s dream of being able to visit her ancestral homeland. On this trip I would discover many things—the amazing ability of Dublin cab drivers to dispense food advice/tourist info/life lessons, the beauty and comfy beds of the Shelbourne Hotel on St. Stephens Green, the fact that Guinness flows and tastes like honey in a Dublin pub, and most importantly, my family would embark on a journey (via crowded double-decker bus) to the church where, as mentioned above, my great grandparents (to the third power) were married and my great-great grandmother was baptized. As my family entered the quiet church that afternoon, I certainly felt something special—as if I was reunited with a long-lost friend or family member. In a certain sense that was most definitely the case. I was walking in the footsteps of my flesh and blood, some 150 years in the future. I took a moment there to reflect upon where I was and the journey I had taken up until that point. After being able to experience so much in my 23 years, I had yet to encounter something like this. I felt like I was, in a sense, home.

To say that I used to be jealous of my European friends who could trace their ancestry back to the same village hundreds of years ago would likely be a little bit of an understatement. That feeling changed when my family entered the church in Sandymount, outside of Dublin. We Americans are lucky to be the prime example of a melting pot/fondue/other descriptive image. I’d encourage everyone to take the time to look back at our roots, as they have a unique bearing on our present and future. I hope that soon I will be able to return to Dublin, and make a visit to the other towns and cities in the world from which I originate.

A somewhat-smart move on my part (for a similar drive-time to Fargo, I didn’t have to pay for parking; then again, I had to fly on a 30 seat airplane with an extra stop in Hibbing, MN), this trip turned into a trip from hell very quickly, with delays, an extra stop in Atlanta, and a return to Minneapolis on Sunday night with a maintenance issue that required an aircraft change.

With me on the flight to Hibbing were a group of about seven older ladies in their 50s, 60s and 70s. What caught my eye while waiting in the gate area in Minneapolis was not their typical Minnesota demeanor or even their incredibly loud laughter that could be heard from several feet away. Instead, my eye was drawn toward a small but noticeable yellow Star of David sticker stuck to their lapels.

At first, it looked like an innocuous name tag or group designation from a large meeting. I myself was returning from something similar, where I wore a color coded nametag to identify myself as part of a group. On second glance, these stickers resembled something much different, and something that now, even four days later has me confused and unsure of what to think. These little yellow stars were almost exact representations of those that the Nazis made the Jews wear in public during the early years of the Holocaust.

I finally built up the courage to ask one of the ladies on the flight why, exactly she was wearing a symbol that has largely come to represent so many negative aspects of my life and the lives of my fellow Jews in our tumultuous history. Her response, put as nicely as possible, was that “there is a lot of anti-Semitism out there” and that “we (her group of friends) got these to wear at a Christian conference to show solidarity with the Jewish people.” At that point in time, the engines of the airplane started and we were unable to continue our conversation.

As a Jew, I appreciate the efforts of those who stand up to anti-Semitism in their communities, in our country and around the world. In the summer of 2008, I had the opportunity to spend 12 days traveling almost non-stop through Israel, where I was able to put a personal façade on a country that has been vilified on the international stage since its creation in 1948. Most Americans support the right for Israel to exist and support it politically and fiscally, something many of its Arab neighbors refuse to do. The country itself is a beautiful place with amazing people. Visiting Jerusalem is an out-of-this-world experience of history, where I was able to walk in the footsteps of the Jewish people, the Christians and Muslims, all within a few miles.

The support the Jewish people and the nation of Israel receive from evangelical Christian groups like the one these ladies likely originated is the cause of much consternation from Jewish groups. The reasoning behind this support is often not simply because they care about the history of the place or the fact that supporting those who might need help is the right thing to do.

Their reasoning is much more self-serving, and quite a bit more biblical-in the Book of Revelations end-of-the-world sense.

Some interpretations of this book say that the only way Jesus can return to Earth is when the Temple in Jerusalem is rebuilt and there are 10,000 Jews in a holy land of Israel. By supporting Israel, these groups hope to facilitate the second coming of Christ.

Yes, Israel needs support. The kind of support offered monetarily, or through the use of yellow Stars of David calls into question the ethics and potential issues of this murky problem.

Conservative Christian groups do this not because they are supporting a minority, but because they see it as their ticket to heaven and salvation. I’d especially like to see a group like this come out in similar support of gays and lesbians by wearing pink triangles, much like the Nazis did during the 1940s. I think you’d see a different response from these same groups.

When it comes down to it, I’d ask that these ladies leave their yellow stars at home. Stickers can be removed easily depending on the situation. Words and actions speak much louder and more effectively when you stand behind me.

A few weeks ago, I wrote an article for this newspaper about lagging interest in aviation, both as a career and as a hobby.

While most of the comments I received on the article were overwhelmingly positive, the article only partially had the effect I intended. This past Wednesday, the U.S. House of Representatives passed House Resolution 3371, a bill, which, if signed into law, would greatly increase the minimum hour and certification requirements for airline pilots in the United States. This resolution has far-reaching consequences throughout the aviation industry, especially at flight training institutions such as UND’s John D. Odegard School of Aerospace Sciences.

As it stands now, the only requirement that entry-level First Officers with regional airlines have is a Commercial Pilots license, medical certification from the Federal Aviation Administration, and a minimum amount of hours set forth by the airline doing the hours. After initially being hired, they then go through specific systems and operations training for the aircraft type they will be flying in a classroom setting and in flight simulators. Pilots then spend time with more experienced captains in the airplane and eventually are able to fly “on their own” with any airline captain while holding a line or sitting on reserve. During the last hiring rush (2004-2007), pilots left UND with approximately 300-700 hours of total flight experience.

Pilots from outside of large aviation universities like UND or Embry Riddle tend to have more hours when they are hired by airlines.

HR3371 states, in part, that the new minimum requirements for a new-hire First Officer with an FAA Part 121 certified air carrier (major airlines fall under this category) will be 1500 flight hours and Air Transport Pilot certification. As it stands now, these are the minimum requirements for airline captains. The common thought amongst the aviation industry as a whole is that more flight hours = better experience = more safety, hence the increased hour requirements. As it stands now, most UND pilots graduate from the school with 250-300 hours of total flight time and experience in advanced aircraft systems and operations (often considered to be a positive). Pilots outside of UND often finish their Commercial Pilot certificates and Flight Instructor ratings with 300-500 hours of flight time. This bill would, in effect, require these pilots to spend 1000+ hours (well over a year) flight instructing or finding other flying jobs in the field.

Supporters of this bill mention the fact that most of the major airline accidents in the past few years have involved regional airlines. While there are things such as pilot pay and improvements in duty hour assignments that are positives associated with the bill, the huge increase in flight time and certification requirements are an over-zealous attempt to make the industry “safer,” especially considering the fact that current aviation research and trends around the world provide for better training processes that don’t require a huge investment in time and money. Scenario based training (SBT) and Multi-Crew pilot licensure are two great examples of how to greatly increase pilot safety and the quality of flight time these pilots experience during their training.

SBT, as the name suggests, utilizes flight scenarios that test flight and decision making skills. Research in the field of SBT has shown that pilot proficiency and self-imposed safety minimums are higher, and therefore safer than pilots who undergo the “traditional” model of flight training currently in use across the country. In addition, the pilots in the study completed their initial Private Pilot certification and Instrument ratings in approximately 40 fewer hours than their traditional counterparts. In this situation, it is clearly the quality of flight time and not the quantity that is most effective in creating safer pilots.

If my fellow aviation counterparts and I allow the House, Senate and President Obama to shoot from the hip and allow this bill to pass, it will have wide-reaching consequences to pilots at this university and would-be pilots that have yet to discover their love of aviation. It’s time we banded together and let our respective lawmakers know that this bill will greatly hinder airline and aviation safety.

A few weeks ago, members of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America voted to allow the ordination and opportunity for ministers in same-sex relationships. While arguably a step in the right direction for the equality of gays and lesbians, the reaction here in the Red River Valley area (the Mecca of ELCA, if you will, with its largest population in the United States) has ranged from cautious acceptance of the majority decision to virulent hatred at something that approximates the blessing of sin by a Godly church. The response has been particularly harsh on the website of the Grand Forks Herald and in letters to the editor of that newspaper. Most of what has been said on these pages has been ignorant at best, and incredibly hateful at worst. It doesn’t show any resemblance to the amazing hospitality I’ve experienced in ELCA churches and their membership around the Grand Forks area during the last five years of my time in North Dakota, yet it still plays into the aloof nature of many of this city’s populace.

For those that may not know, I’m one of the few Jewish students on campus. The sect of Judaism I consider myself to best associate with (the Reform movement) has had some form of allowance of same-sex ordination and partnerships as far back as 1977—11 years before I was even born. While I’ve yet to have an openly gay rabbi hold a full-time pulpit in either of the two synagogues I’ve belonged over the years, I do know of several that currently or will soon be amongst the ordained clergy of synagogues around the country. These rabbis and cantors (ordained musicians) lead normal lives, and in cases where they have a partner, are in a fully committed relationship filled with a love that often exceeds that of straight couples.

One of the main arguments presented by the detractors of this most recent statement by the ELCA is that by taking this position, the church is somehow “officially” allowing sin. They commonly quote and take a very literal interpretation of verses from Genesis and Leviticus in the Old Testament/Torah (the Jewish Bible) and from several books in the New Testament. There are, however, huge problems that arise when you take the Bible (Hebrew, Christian, or even the Muslim Koran) literally. Flip a few pages forward from the famous verse against homosexuality in Leviticus, and you’ll find the dietary laws of Kashrut. Should I stone the large groups of church-goers I see at Perkins on Sunday mornings for ordering bacon with their omelets, simply because my religion says I can’t eat pork?

Of course, the common belief amongst Christians when it comes to the dietary laws of what is Kosher is that after Jesus died for their sins, these laws no longer applied. Just as Christianity takes a different interpretation of what animals are clean and dirty, Jews take their own interpretations of biblical laws. Take, for example, the laws in the Torah/Old Testament relating to animal sacrifice. The common interpretation amongst Jews of almost every level of observance is that these laws only apply to the central Temple in Jerusalem. Since the 2nd Temple was destroyed in the time shortly after Jesus’ death and a 3rd Temple likely won’t be built (with two Muslim holy buildings on top of the site, it’s a pretty fair assessment you’d piss off a fair amount of the Arab world even more than they are pissed off about Israel today), these laws are generally considered not to apply.

Thus, we reach the ultimate fallacy and shortcoming of modern religion: every sect and the observance within seems to pick and choose which parts of the bible they interpret literally and those they interpret with just a passing glance. When a religious group and its members insist that their literal interpretation of the word of God are right (in the case of homosexuality) while ignoring other parts of the same book (condemning homosexuality while…say…eating a Wendy’s Baconator and holding the hand of their wife/girlfriend while she’s on her menstrual cycle—another no-no per Leviticus), they present themselves as being horribly hypocritical. As a matter of fact, I’d love to challenge even the most purist Christian biblical scholar to find a teaching from Jesus himself that discusses homosexuality. I’ll go ahead and tell you now…the Lord and Savior himself said nothing on the subject.

What Jesus’ teachings do preach (regardless of yours and my belief that he is the Messiah or not), however, are love, tolerance, and respect. What is commonly lost in the fray during these ultra-religious debates on sexuality is the fact that regardless of a couple’s makeup (male-female, female-female, and male-male), each half of that couple shares a deep love for the other. Ironically, one of the best descriptions of this deep love for another originates from the New Testament and the apostle Paul: “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, and keeps no record of wrongs.”

It’s that time of year again…cars are parked illegally along University Avenue, freshmen can be seen wandering around campus staring blankly at folded up copies of campus maps, and a few creepy seniors will remark to themselves how last year’s class of 2012 was much hotter. Yep…it’s the beginning of school!

By now, you’ve likely dealt with the unhappy people at Student Account Services, been yelled at by at least three people in the Parking Office (as required by the Code of Student Life), have (hopefully) found where your classes are located, and scoped out which girl/boy in said classes you’d like to spend the semester attempting to date/hook up with. This is an exciting time for everyone on campus…professors can break out their dusty PowerPoint presentations, employees in various offices around campus face a glut of new students/paperwork, and students take the time to reunite with old friends and hopefully make new ones as well. As for me, I take the time to sit down, look at old “Welcome Back” articles I’ve written for the Dakota Student (this is #4!), and look for new, and unusual suggestions of things to do and places to see in order to make your parental-imposed prison sentence/college career more interesting.

Grand Forks and UND have changed immensely since 2004 when I made my way down University Avenue in a dawn-of-man style march toward Frat Row like the freshmen of today and yesterday. There are new people, new administrators and new places to visit. Some have continued to last over the years, and others, sadly, have shut down (the bar in my old apartment’s parking lot, to be exact). I’ve taken the liberty of weeding through these places and people, for the convenience of everyone, both old and new, in the readership of the Dakota Student.

UND’s President is Dr. Robert Kelley. He’s a very nice guy who has a tendency to be seen walking around campus. Take a moment and introduce yourself to him. He’s a very nice guy who seems to be genuinely interested in students’ opinions and concerns. President Kelley works in Twamley Hall, which is the building most commonly known for the “Twamley Shuffle,” a dance between Student Academic Services, Financial Aid, and the Registrar’s office that many students must perform to finalize their schedules.

Behind Twamley Hall is one of my favorite places on the UND campus: the North Dakota Museum of Art. This museum plays host to several art exhibitions during the year in addition to concerts and other interesting activities. The museum is an important place in Grand Forks, as it is one of the few vestiges of culture in the city. There is a café in the basement of the building which is one of the true hidden secrets of the Grand Forks dining scene.

While we’re on the topic of the Grand Forks dining scene, old-timers like myself will note that there isn’t much of one here. The city does boast an amazing array of Subways (Truck Stop! Drive-Thru! Standalone Building!), as well as a ridiculously wide array of restaurants that feature colors in their names (Whiteys! Blue Moose! Red Pepper! Golden Corral! Green Mill!). If you pick up a copy of the local newspaper on a Wednesday, you’ll likely find a restaurant review, written by someone for whom my family has affectionately called the Grand Forks Grandma. Don’t bother looking for negatives in the article—there will be none. The GFGrandma doesn’t hold back either: full service and fast food restaurants cannot escape her initial-assigning gaze.

Leaving for college is a life-altering experience. We leave the comfort zones of our hometowns (in Minnesota and North Dakota) for a new community on the UND campus. You, new freshmen hordes, are likely to meet people from diverse locations such as Fargo and West Fargo. Just kidding! In truth, there are close to 60 countries represented here, from Chinese contract students in the aviation department to Czechs in the chemistry department. You can get a small taste of the world without leaving the Grand Cities! Of course, I strongly suggest leaving the Grand Cities for your own taste of the world, but that’s for a different article.

University students face many pressures during the school year. Classes, homework, reading, and what kind of beer I should drink are amongst the most important, but there are many, many more lurking out there. Remember to take it one day at a time, complete your homework, write great papers, and avoid anything with the name Bud, Busch, Keystone or Miller.

Hopefully I’ve implanted some wisdom onto the Dakota Student’s vast readership on-campus and online. Have a great, safe year, and remember to brush up on your winter survival skills for January.