Normally, we would applaud this move. However, we have reservations about the current system.

For one thing, the paper evaluations were required to be completed in class, meaning that every student who showed up on evaluation day would fill one out. Unless class time is given to complete the online version, what would motivate students to do them? Fewer students participating may mean less accurate evaluations.

That pales in comparison to the main reason why we are opposed to online evaluations, though.

Anonymity.

Baylor University has contracted with EvaluationKIT to perform these online evaluations. However, there is one fundamental flaw with the whole process. A student is required to log in to Blackboard to be able to access the online evaluations.

Anyone who thinks their responses at that point are anonymous are unaware of the types of logging that take place across the Internet on a daily basis.

Let’s say Joe Baylor logs in to a computer in Moody Library. Immediately in Baylor’s system there is a record of him logging in and which computer he logged in at. He browses to Blackboard, where he logs in.

Baylor has an Internet filter in place to prevent students from going to illegal or illicit sites through Baylor’s servers. This means Baylor has a log of every website that every person that uses Baylor’s computers visits.

Since Joe Baylor logged in to the computer, Baylor knows every website he visited while he was logged in at the library, and at what date and time.

Say he then completes an online evaluation. While the website used for the online evaluations uses https secure browsing, meaning that the data transmitted from the computer to server is encrypted, that does not prevent Baylor from having a log of when the user submitted an evaluation because of the time stamps. Nor can we as students be assured that they do not have access to data transmitted via Blackboard.

Furthermore, there is no way to evaluate what information gets passed to EvaluationKIT, meaning they may have your Baylor ID, which they would then attach to your response in their system. The likelihood of this occurring is high, because if Baylor decided to pursue pressing charges against a student for their responses on an evaluation (in the event of a threat), the attorneys involved would be able to subpoena the records from EvaluationKIT to find out what student submitted that evaluation.

EvaluationKIT provides the data back to Baylor. However, there are ways they can provide “anonymous” data that would still allow Baylor to determine who gave what responses.

For example, if you fill out evaluations for multiple professors, your Baylor ID, which has been encrypted in a process called hashing, will be entered multiple times and could point to your class schedule. You could then be identified by your schedule, unless there are other students in the same semester with your schedule.

It’s not likely.

Even if EvaluationKIT didn’t provide that encrypted ID, if they were to provide a date/time stamp, that would allow Baylor to compare the data with their logs and determine who provided the evaluation.

There are a couple of solutions Baylor should choose from to ensure that responses are truly anonymous.

The preferred method, and the one we strongly propose, is that Baylor needs to move back to the truly anonymous paper evaluations. We think online evaluations will never accomplish the response rate that the paper-based system achieved unless class time is given to complete them.

Barring that, online evaluations should be detached from Blackboard. If Baylor decides to continue with online evaluations, we propose that EvaluationKIT generate randomly generated access codes for each section and class being evaluated and those access codes are distributed to the appropriate professor without Baylor involvement (meaning Baylor officials never have access to the access codes). That professor would then distribute that section’s access codes randomly to the students. EvaluationKIT would need a website completely under its control where students can go. Here the student would enter the random access code and be taken to a page on EvaluationKIT’s website to do the evaluation for that course.

Baylor also needs to allow guest access on computers so a student doesn’t have to log in on the Baylor network to perform these evaluations.

Donna Johnson (Courtesy Photo)

The epigraph of E.M. Forster’s “Howards End,” which reads “Only connect…” could serve as a statement of purpose for many a writer. This may hold especially true for writers of personal narrative.

As one such writer, it was my privilege and pleasure to spend a day and a half with Baylor journalism students discussing the subset of creative nonfiction called memoir.

The spirited dialogue we had remains with me and indeed grew louder when I read editor-in-chief Caroline Brewton’s recent review of my memoir “Holy Ghost Girl,” published on April 11. The book has been favorably reviewed in a number newspapers, including The New York Times, but I particularly enjoyed the Lariat review.

Brewton was the only reviewer to attempt to evaluate the tone and shape of my story. I applaud her critical thinking, though I do not agree with all of her conclusions.

“Holy Ghost Girl” tells the story of my family’s association with one of the last of the sawdust trail tent preachers named David Terrell.

My mother began working for Terrell when I was 3 years old. Despite Terrell’s marriage, she began a secret affair with him that lasted for more than 20 years. She abandoned my brother and me for a time to travel with him.

Terrell was a gifted and dedicated preacher during the early days. Like others before and after him, he was seduced by sex, power and money, though it could be argued the first two vices are one and same.

Over time, Terrell became a sort of stepfather to my brother and me.

The book recounts a spectacular fall from grace, and I do not brag when I say it does so without bitterness. Brewton thinks so, too. She writes in her review that I forgive Terrell and my mother again and again, that I refuse to hold them to scrutiny and that by doing so I allow them to achieve a kind of (unearned?) redemption.

In my address to the journalism class, I stated that as a trained journalist I opted to err on the side of fairness. The characters in my book cannot present their side of the story to readers, and so I felt bound to try to understand their actions from their point of view. Since these characters are also members of my family whose backstories and limitations are known to me, I erred also on the side of kindness, reporting only what concerned my immediate story.

The book circles around an implied set of questions: Why did my mother and Terrell behave as they did, and what was the cost of their behavior?

The story is a reckoning of Terrell and his brand of revivalism.

It is recounted without additional vitriol for many reasons, the foremost being that as I understand it, literature works better as a venue for exploration than score settling. The injunction of creative writing to show rather than tell is also at work here.

Brewton states my lack of bitterness left her wondering what thoughts and feelings I experienced in evaluating my childhood. I recount the cruel and humiliating treatment my brother and I received at the hands of caregivers. I write that I prayed for my mother’s return, that I thought her absence meant God hated me. I state that I left home first at 15, then again for good at 17, that my mother and I argued about Terrell for years.

In short, I felt wretched and that wretchedness is on the page. It is not, however, the point of the book.

The disparity between my mother’s and Terrell’s professed beliefs and their behavior is an old story.

The strange and I hope fascinating aspect of the story is how they embodied so much of the spirit of Christianity. I refer to their treatment of the poor and marginalized and their stand for integration, despite being hounded and beaten by the Ku Klux Klan.

My mother and stepfather broke the commandments regularly, yet they loved God whole-heartedly. As one fellow writer put it, the Bible is filled with stories of people just like them. I do not mean to justify bad behavior. I’m simply saying that good and bad are intertwined in an individual in the same way that faith and doubt often coexist in believers. It is simplistic to think otherwise.

Finally, there is the reviewer’s mention of “absolute truth” and my unwillingness to sacrifice my mother and Terrell to that glittering ideal.

Given that my book focuses on what happens when people think they know the absolute truth, I find the reference astonishing.

As a freelance religion writer, I’ve learned the only way to report on faith is by entering into the framework of believers. In the book I recount fantastic occurrences such as miracles and exorcisms as real events.

I am trying to immerse the reader in a mystical world where anything is possible. This may strain credulity for some, but it is crucial to understanding the world from which I came.

Perhaps the real quarrel with “Holy Ghost Girl” is that I tell my family’s story without wholly repudiating or endorsing their belief system. This is hard for readers on both sides of the faith question to accept.

As a writer, I try to navigate the confluence of faith and human frailty, which is the murkier, and I think the deeper water. Here there are no absolutes.

Once that is accepted, a truer story may surface, flawed but rich with connection.

Donna M. Johnson is the author of “Holy Ghost Girl,” an award-winning memoir critically acclaimed by the New York Times, O Magazine and others. Her work has appeared in the Shambhala Sun, the Huffington Post and the Austin American-Statesman. She is currently at work on a second memoir.

This morning, I received an email from the Cashier’s Office. After the normal, mini panic attack I had, featuring questions like “Oh gosh, did I miss a payment?” and “Are they about to kick me out of school?!” I actually read the email.

The email informed me I was no longer allowed to use BearBucks off-campus. I disregarded it and tossed it in the trash, going on with my daily routine.

But then — about 10 minutes later — it hit me. This does affect me, because I use BearBucks.

This is really annoying, actually.

The reasoning stated in the email is as follows:

“The decision to terminate the off-campus program is a joint one between Baylor and Wells Fargo Bank, our program administrator. This decision is also driven by the fact that the existing merchant equipment is obsolete and no longer repairable and the Bank can no longer provide staffing for a program that is now the only one of its kind.”

The email gave the additional reason of declining student participation for canceling the off-campus part of the program.

Now don’t get me wrong — I use my debit card when I go out to places that require me to go off campus that don’t use BearBucks.

However, I also have BearBucks for a particular reason: I feel safer. If I lose my debit card, it’s a huge ordeal to cancel and figure out all the paperwork.

If I lose my Baylor ID, on the other hand, all I have to do is just call the office or cancel the old card online and go pick up a new one at Clifton Robinson Tower.

Now that I can’t go off campus for some Taco Bell with my BearBucks, I would have to go home and get my debit card first.

This move means I’ll probably be less likely to go off-campus.

Aren’t we supposed to be trying to burst the Baylor Bubble?

Aren’t we, as students, encouraged to do more things for the Waco community?

I enjoy going out with friends and I like to use my BearBucks to do them.

There’s not a lot I can do about the rest of the student population going and using the machines that are currently “obsolete” or the fact that Wells Fargo Bank can’t provide staffing or anything like that—but I can definitely say that this is not helping the whole “getting out of the Baylor Bubble” thing.

Maybe there should be a new program, or maybe I’m the only one thinking all this — but hey, I’m a bit peeved for having to carry my debit card around for a drink at Common Grounds.

Mashaal Hashmi is a junior from Fort Worth. She is a copy editor for The Baylor Lariat.

The Firefighter’s Memorial Service for the 12 firefighters killed in the West Explosion is held in the Ferrell Center on Thursday, Apr. 25, 2013. Families and friends of the deceased sit behind a row of caskets each covered with an American flag in representation of their heroism.
Matt Hellman | Lariat Photo Editor

But we can’t be proud of our behavior at the memorial last Thursday. It is a source of shame for our community.

It was an honor to be chosen as the venue for this event. Twelve brave men were remembered here. Twelve fallen heroes, first responders who gave their lives unselfishly to try and help their community, were honored Thursday in the Ferrell Center.

Those men were the true reason for the event, although it has become abundantly clear to us that some did not attend to honor them. They paid the ultimate price, and how did we repay them?

With disrespect.

We saw students get up to leave the memorial immediately after the president’s speech, making it abundantly clear the real reason they attended.

It was not to honor those men. It was not to support their families.

They attended so they could claim to have seen a president. Normally, this would be a source of pride. However, if you bragged to your friends in the wake of the event about seeing President Obama and forgot the real reason we gathered, you have absolutely nothing to be proud of.

Yes, as a university, we are honored that important figures in our government, including the president, Sen. John Cornyn and Gov. Rick Perry, chose to come to campus, but we cannot forget the reason for their visit.

It was those 12 heroes.

Why, then, did members of the audience get up — before the memorial was concluded —and leave after the president finished speaking?

Such selfishness and disrespect astounds us. That behavior was a slap in the face to anyone who lost a friend or loved one in the disaster. It is an outrage. It is not to be tolerated. If you are one of those who left, we hope your decision shames you in the days to come.

It’s important to note that the Ferrell Center was packed to capacity that day. The stadium filled up quickly and some who wished to attend the event were turned away, instead occupying several campus locations for overflow seating. Those who couldn’t get into the Ferrell Center had to watch the memorial on screens.

Those who left took up valuable space that could have been occupied by someone who was there for the right reason.

Instead, those spaces were wasted on those who left early. You cannot imagine the pain of those families who lost their loved ones. How dare you disrespect them at a time when they need support from their community?

In fact, isn’t that what we were praised for at the service? Our support of the West community?

By leaving early, you revealed your own selfish motives. You deserve none of that praise. You have shamed our community.

You have shamed yourselves.

Imagine, for a second, how those families must have felt as they watched members of their community walk out around them. Members who, only a few days before, seemed so eager to help. Is that the message you want to send them? That when the big events are over, you’ll forget about the tragedy in West? Because that’s what your little stunt on Thursday said.

To those who left, we are ashamed that the families of the victims, residents of West and the president had to witness your bad behavior.

We would like to extend our own apologies to the families of the victims for the atrocious manners of those members of our community and assure you that the majority of us are behind you 100 percent of the way. We wish you support and healing in the days ahead.

In college, you are free.

You are free to go to bed at 3 a.m. You are free to eat ice cream for breakfast. You are free to get the puppy you’ve wanted since you were 12 years old, but your parents always said no to getting. The list of freedoms is endless.

So tell me, why are college students not free to participate in physical activity at their own discretion?

I was never someone who was too fond of gym class. It had nothing to do with athletic ability, but everything to do with being graded on my physical activity level. I couldn’t ever find reason in that.

School boards cite increasing obesity rates in children as the reason for required physical activity as part of an elementary education.

I can understand this.

The young and immature need a little bit of motivation to get off the couch and get moving. But I’m in college now. I can’t seem to fathom how colleges think it’s necessary to make the newly renamed Lifetime Fitness classes a requirement for degree programs.

When you reach college, you are thrown headfirst into independence. And with that independence, you develop the maturity to make personal decisions.

In college, we are trusted with the ability to make our own schedule, handle our own finances and make decisions that will influence the rest of our lives.

But we can’t decide when and how we want to work out? That makes no sense to me.

I am a few weeks shy of being done with my Lifetime Fitness credits at Baylor. And I can tell you from personal experience that I am not any more or less fit from having participated in Beginning Racquetball and Beginning Self Defense.

I mean no disrespect to my professors. The classes were well prepared and fulfilled their purpose as a human performance course. But in all honesty, the classes achieved nothing more than to threaten my GPA due to some close calls with excessive absences.

I admit that my choices of HP courses maybe weren’t the best, but when I looked through the list of classes I could take, ranging from Intro to Bowling to Beginning Ballet, I thought these were pretty decent picks. I will never understand how bowling is considered a fitness class.

If the point of these required classes is to get us moving around, they miss their mark completely.

I know I sound like a lazy, whining college student who wants to spend my free time napping, but that’s far from the truth.

I think most college students can agree with me when I say that said free time doesn’t really exist. In a stressful and busy time in our lives, I think we deserve the ability to decide when and even if we want to spend an hour every other day doing physical activity.

And if I choose to work out, I don’t think my workout of choice would be playing racquetball.

Again, I have no ill regards to the fine professors of the health and human performance department at Baylor University. I simply think that as an adult, I shouldn’t have to go to gym class anymore.

Larissa Campos is a senior journalism major from Centennial, Colo. She is a reporter for the Lariat.

I’ve always wanted to change the world, and I thought that coming to Baylor would give me the right tools to go out and make a big impact. I’m a communications major, so I’m not going to cure any diseases over the course of my career, but I thought maybe I could make enough money to make a significant donation to help find a cure, or save up enough money to open up an orphanage in another country.

All of these things are good and very ambitious, but last week I realized that we all have the opportunity to change the world every day.

After the tragedy in West, I was astonished to see the hearts of my fellow Baylor Bears opening up to our neighboring community. So many people were eager to help, by delivering supplies, sorting through donations, gathering donations and serving in other ways.

The most eye-opening moment for me was while I was just spending time with a gentleman from West who had lost so much. He cried right after we introduced ourselves and asked if we could spend some time with him, explaining he was simply thankful that we came to be with him.

What really changes the world is opening up your heart to people every day. The world changes when you are present in life, when you show up and open up to those around you by showing them the love that you have in your heart.

I encourage everyone to go out and change the world, starting with opening up your hearts to those around you. Every moment is a chance and a choice to love on others.

- Raechel Adams is a junior speech communications major

It is baseball season at Baylor.

Baylor baseball has had a winning season every year since 2005, but they still have games to go in this one. They need our help.

As students, it is our responsibility to go root for our team. Now that basketball is over, many students have more free time on their hands. Students can spend that time cheering on the baseball team to a win.

We have all seen what kind of energy students can bring to a game. Remember when the football team destroyed Kansas State 52-24 last November? How about March, when the men’s basketball team beat Kansas 81-58?

Students showed up to those games and got loud. Their cheers pumped up the teams and got us wins. We can bring that type of energy to the baseball stadium. Going to a baseball game is a great way to sit back, relax and cheer Baylor baseball to a win.

- Jeremy Doyle is a junior pre-business major from Spring.

The letter expressing this point was written by Carolyn Luby, a women’s gender and sexuality studies major and feminist, in a letter to UConn president Susan Herbst detailing how the new logo offends her as a measure designed to gloss over recent bad behavior by student athletes, including instances of violence against women.

UConn women’s head basketball coach Geno Auriemma, on the other hand, said the new husky is “looking right through you and saying, ‘Do not mess with me.’ This is a streamlined, fighting dog, and I cannot wait for it to be on our uniforms and court.”

According to UConn’s website, different athletic teams were straying away from one central design, and this new logo is intended to re-unify the themes and launch the program into a new era.

Echoing Auriemma, Luby quotes in her letter that the new logo is intended to be “powerful and aggressive” and “show what UConn and [its] student athletes convey every day: poise, confidence, competitiveness, and the determination to succeed in the classroom and on the field and the court.”

Luby then points out recent problems the UConn athletic department had.

She cites the men’s basketball team becoming the first BCS school to be penalized for having a low academic progress rate; running back Lyle McCombs’ arrest following a dispute with his girlfriend, who was also arrested; basketball player Enosch Wolf’s suspension following a domestic dispute and his arrest and basketball player Tyler Olander’s trespassing in a structure or conveyance charge.

She then argues that the university, in light of these charges, should not encourage an aggressive and powerful message through the mascot, because the program is in enough trouble.

A minor flaw in Luby’s argument is she seems to imply keeping or discarding the old logo has something to do with individual character. Having a less aggressive logo would not prevent any domestic disputes from happening in the future. The two are unrelated.

However, we do agree that changing the logo without pursuing punitive action for the student athletes responsible for the crimes is a superficial action that won’t fix any of the athletic department’s real problems.

She goes on to write, “What terrifies me about the admiration of such traits is that I know what it feels like to have a real-life Husky look straight through you and to feel powerless, and to wonder if even the administration cannot ‘mess with them.’ And I know I am not alone.”

This section seems to imply an encounter between Luby and a student athlete behaving badly, and her worries that the administration of her school would do nothing about it if something bad happened to her. This fear seems justified, as only one of the athletes was suspended for the bad actions mentioned before.

We do agree with the university’s decision to change the logo, however. Trying to re-energize the program by giving it a new face seems like an admirable goal. But punitive action for the responsible parties is a necessary step in this process. Both actions are crucial.

No student wants to support an athletic program full of reprobates. Changing the logo is a way for UConn to symbolically put its athletic department’s issues in the past and allow students and university personnel to move forward. The new Husky is a very basic way of creating a new image for the university. If you ask us, it sounds like the whole department needs a makeover.

Without doubt, UConn should address the problems and punish its errant student athletes, but the logo change should still move forward.

Changing the old mascot into something that “will not appear to be mean, snarling, or capable of frightening small children” seems like an appropriate action given the circumstances. If anything, the new athletes have a better standard to live up to. We support the change and condemn the university’s lack of punitive action. The two are not mutually exclusive.

The Texas Senate unanimously passed legislation to mandate drug tests for welfare applicants, demonstrating the widespread support behind a measure that appears common-sense to many.

According to the bill’s introducer, Texas Sen. Jane Nelson (R-Flower Mound):

“We found common ground to support a plan that makes sure state resources aren’t used to support a drug habit, while at the same time making sure children continue receiving benefits.”

On the surface, drug testing seems to be necessary. After all, no one wants their tax dollars to be supporting cocaine addicts. When looking past the rhetoric, however, we should consider again before rushing to support such programs.

U.S. Sen. David Vitter (R-La.), argues one of the primary reasons in favor of the legislation:

“With potentially billions of dollars of welfare funds ending up in the wrong places or being spent on illegal drugs, the least we can do is make sure that money is going where it’s actually supposed to go.”

According to a 2007 report by the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, 20 percent of Temporary Assistance for Needy Families recipients admitted to using an illicit drug sometime in the last year. With approximately $33 billion spent on temporary assistance payments each year, it is alarming that more than $6 billion might be supporting drug users.

That being said, the money-saving argument does not always prove true. A Florida law requiring drug tests for welfare recipients ended up costing the state more than $45,000 more than it was spending before. It turns out that administering drug tests to people takes a lot of time and money.

If government spending (and eventually, taxes) must increase to ensure that no welfare recipients are on drugs, conservatives should at least hesitate briefly before wholeheartedly embracing such a measure. The conflict reminds of the “free-rider problem” discussed during the Obamacare debates. Passing the law would save money, some Democrats argued, as it would give insurance to those who were taking advantage of “free,” taxpayer-funded, emergency room healthcare. The free-rider argument back then missed the same point the drug testing laws miss now in some states. Spending more tax dollars to fix a problem costing comparatively less should not be considered an automatic improvement. If the solution costs more than the original problem, it may be better to leave things as they are.

Additionally, a moral argument can also be made. The American Civil Liberties Union has come out strongly against drug testing laws, arguing they encroach on the individual rights of Americans and demean the poor, while only providing a minuscule benefit. From their website:

“This kind of drug testing is unconstitutional, scientifically unsound, fiscally irresponsible and one more way the ‘war on drugs’ is an unfair war on America’s most vulnerable populations.”

Though this argument may be hard to swallow originally (again, it’s hard to justify giving money to drug users), it is well-supported by the results of states with existing drug testing laws.

Despite claims to the contrary before the law passed, a smaller percentage of temporary assistance recipients in Florida tested positive for drug use than the general population. Only 2.6 percent of recipients failed the drug tests. If there really is such an epidemic of drug use, perhaps we should focus first on the general population.

Preventing welfare recipients from engaging in drug use that creates a cycle of dependency for themselves and their families is an admirable cause. Many of the current drug testing laws, however, are failing to do so in a cost-efficient way. Though they may sound like a clear choice, we should pause before jumping to endorse them.

Danny Huizinga is a sophomore Baylor Business Fellow from Chicago. He syndicates to Communities at WashingtonTimes.com, his blog Consider Again, and several other online publications. Follow him at @HuizingaDanny on Twitter.

Do you know what the official language of the United States of America is? If you think it’s English, you’re wrong.

You’re only wrong because there isn’t one. While several states and unincorporated territories have listed English as their official language, on the federal level it isn’t so, and I like it that way.

Official national languages aren’t something I think about often, but the topic came to me while watching “The Voice.” It has become rather popular on campus since a current student is a competitor.

While I’m very happy that Baylor is being well represented on the show, I’m even happier that the Spanish language has developed such a strong presence on what is a heavily-viewed network in America, the country with no language.

I’m a Spanish speaker, and even I was caught off guard when New York contestant Cáthia walked onto the stage singing “No Me Doy por Vencido.” Then, when three of the four judges asked Cáthia to join their team I was further shocked since the only judge who spoke Spanish was Colombian singer-songwriter Shakira.

On episodes to follow, two more Spanish-singing contestants performed and I began to wonder if it was because Shakira was a judge or if this was just an illustration of the shift in American television and America as a whole.

Some viewers might not have thought it was as a big a deal as I did, and some might have just muted the performances altogether, but I was intrigued by the message in front of me: American television does not mean English television.

Why does this even matter? Maybe because it was only 50 years ago that students around the nation were punished, sometimes physically, for speaking Spanish in classrooms.

It seems preposterous now, physically punishing someone for speaking another language, but it was a real and scary part of many lives. And the stigma against Spanish speakers lives on.

Earlier this month in Alamogordo, NM, Corey Jones, a first-base umpire, allegedly warned a high school baseball player that if he spoke Spanish he’d be thrown out of the game.

I have two concerns with this scenario. First, it’s New Mexico. Second, it’s baseball. How Jones thought he wouldn’t hear Spanish during the game is beyond me.

Jones caught a lot of negative reaction from the heavily Hispanic community and from the media for his alleged ban on Spanish. But this isn’t the only current example of people being made to feel out of place because they prefer to speak a language other than English.

This topic is a particularly sensitive one for me because when my father came to America at 19, he only spoke Spanish.

It disturbs me to think he might not have been welcomed in certain places because he didn’t speak English.

But advances are being made, as seen on NBC, and I like what it says about our nation’s tolerance for things that aren’t the norm. I hope Spanish and other languages acquire greater airtime on American television because in reality, for many American viewers, English is just a second language.

According to a report by the Huffington Post, Jones has resigned from his umpiring post. Maybe while on this break from working, he can catch up on “The Voice.”

Paula Ann Solis is a junior journalism major from Houston. She is a staff writer for the Lariat.