Feature

by Beau Neal

Founded in 1908 by Amanda Reed, Reed College soon moved to the forefront of secular humanistic education.

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Reed College Students Answer Tough Questions

The art building is located by the east entrance to Reed College, south of the library. --Anna Gorra, photo

Sitting outside Reed College's Hauser Memorial Library on a stone bench, junior David Rasmussen chewed on a piece of flat bread as he thought about who Jesus Christ is. Finally he had his answer: "A very interesting historical figure."

Rasmussen, a biology major, felt no need to think about the "metaphysical" but was amused at the thought of who Jesus really is. He waved his pasty white arm in the direction of another biology student, Ginger Jui. "Who do you think Jesus Christ is?" Rasmussen asked, smiling.

"You mean who do I think Jesus Christ was ?" Jui said. "Umm... I'll have to get a second opinion." She stopped a thin man who happened to be riding by on his bike.

The man swallowed hard and then gave his answer: "Another delusional. Spoiled life for a lot of people." With that he rode off.

"He's from a former communist country," Rasmussen explained, unaware of the Corgi dog nibbling on a piece of his flat bread lying on the bench beside him.

Inside the first set of doors in the library, a man slept on a bench, his head nestled in an off-white pillow, his body hidden by a quilt.

Another student plugged away at a silver laptop. "A Day of Yoga" flyers sat on the second step leading to the next set of doors. Within those doors was the library itself.

In the middle of the library sat a display case full of papers written on with crayon. One, titled "Ten Commandments," read, "Heaven is a place where nothing, nothing, ever happens." Another, "I have herpes, and I'll never be in love again."

Founded in 1908 by Amanda Reed with money left from her deceased husband, Simeon, Reed College quickly moved to the forefront of secular humanistic education.

Today, that reputation of secular excellence is still intact. The average high school grade point average of the class of 2008 was 3.8.

At Reed, seniors are required to write a thesis in order to graduate. Completing this task puts into motion Renn-Fayre, a week-long party where seniors burn a copy of their thesis and get doused with champagne.

At lunch time, Reed College students spread out, sitting on the grass, on benches and in smoking areas all around campus. Steve Wissow, 20, ate lunch at a picnic table outside the cafeteria. Wissow lives on campus in French House. The eight students living there speak only French when inside. Reed has many culture-based housing units. Other houses on campus that follow the same language rule are Chinese House, Russian House, Spanish House and German House.

Wissow's parents both graduated from medical school, and his grandfather attended graduate school. When asked what his major will be,Wissow picked at the olives on his pizza, his forehead wrinkled in thought. He couldn't decide.

Wissow's uncertainty extends beyond his academic career. Since coming to Reed, Wissow has attended many religious extracurricular groups. First, he attended a Bible study group called "Oh, for Christ's sake." From that he joined the collection of people in "The Pagan Circle," a campus group that embraces all things spiritual except Christianity.

Most recently, however, he's been affiliated with a group of Jewish students who get together and partake in civil service activities for the benefit of the community.

"My mom is Baptist and my dad's Jewish," he said. Reed is "not a very Christian-friendly environment. Most [students] have known the bad Christians, not the good ones."

At a college whose alumni include Beat poets Philip Whalen and Gary Snyder and Dr. Demento, the number of Christians attending can be counted on two hands.

Inside the cafeteria, freshmen Leah Cole and Kathryne Friedman finished lunch at a small table in the corner.

Friedman is a psychology major from New York. She said, "I'm the product of two Ivies," noting the prestige that is tagged onto people who attend Ivy League schools.

She said her future would include children. "I want to adopt," Friedman said. "I had a friend who was adopted. Her parents beat her. I might be a [bad] parent, but at least I won't beat [my children]."

Friedman's statements did not register with Cole. Cole, an economics major from Minnesota, stared off into the distance and then said, "People here are closed-minded. If anyone voted for Bush, they aren't brave enough to admit it." Clearing their trays, both young women walked out of the cafeteria toward the library.

A Rottweiler ran past them, going the opposite direction. Neither Friedman nor Cole noticed.

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