Liz Nichols     Time Out When I was but a wide-eyed transfer student visiting the university with my mom a year ago, I had my first sweaty-palmed conversation with a capital-D Dean in Garrett Hall. As I gazed up at the gilded dome above my head and surveyed the impressive collection of books he'd amassed, he asked me good-natured questions about my plans for extra-curricular involvement. I babbled about my intention to write for one of the newspapers on grounds, describing the literal hours I had spent each week poring over Pagemaker at my previous school. He paused. "You don't want to do too much your first semester at U.Va. I've known several students who have destroyed their academic careers before they began simply by committing themselves to too much time in the basement of Newcomb Hall." His response took me aback -- I could certainly budget my time well enough to avoid going bottom-up by the end of my first semester, and so could the other members of my transfer class. There were National Merit finalists and editors, prom queens and valedictorians among us. I resented that he questioned my judgment in such a condescending and bureaucratic way. The greek system was never mentioned during this little exchange, nor did I bring it up (the chapter I had pledged my first year was no longer active on grounds, and I didn't consider rushing another house). But as I followed the melée between the Dean of Students office and the Inter-Fraternity and Inter-Sorority Councils over rush and its proper place last semester, I was reminded of my inaugural conversation with a member of the U.Va. administrata. There doesn't seem to be much faith in the individual's capacity to govern herself these days, does there? The assumption, apparently, is that first-years should be protected from the hulking, sinister beast of the greek system before it turns them into binge-drinkers and felons, allowing them to focus on academics during their first months on grounds. Without question, these same folks surmise, the greek system is the only organization that requires such a massive time commitment and encourages such destructive behavior. Dean of Students Canevari spoke only this week of the "disruption that fall rush has made on entering students' lives in the first semester" in a letter to the editor of another publication. But wait -- according to my Dean I could have been overwhelmed by my innocent involvement with a campus paper! And what of the thousands of other clubs, any of which could be the downfall of the collective Class of 2002? U-Guides spend hours practicing their spiel while speeding backwards around grounds. Virtually any organization that requires any kind of a time commitment could damage a clueless first-year's collegiate years beyond repair. And yet, the greek system was singled out and penalized. Swiftly. And are these accusations really warranted anyway? As IFC President Al Park is quick to point out to anyone who will listen, last year the male greek average G.P.A. was the highest on grounds. Not only that, but it was the highest in the ACC, and this among students in fine institutions such as Duke and North Carolina. Granted, there were tragic, widely-publicized alcohol-related deaths on grounds, but hardly anyone uttered an approving peep when the IFC declared a ban on hard liquor -- the substance most responsible for out-of-control drunkenness -- at all functions. No, those first-years shouldn't be exposed to such complexities yet. There are plenty of less threatening social activities on grounds to fill the void left by Rugby Road in the U.Va. scene. And if there aren't, new programming and a shiny tent will soon sate their need for social interaction and stress-relieving fun. In the meantime, first years can't interact with upperclass students for fear of violating stringent no-contact rush rules. These rules are particularly harsh in sororities, where virtually any contact is construed as coercive recruitment. Budgetary deficiencies caused by the move deplete house income and will doubtlessly prevent new members from living in houses, since many leases are renewed in October. And fraternity and sorority presidents find themselves held responsible for any first-year who ventures onto their property, when self-policing certainly shouldn't be in their domain of responsibility. As for the first years themselves? They're choosing to roam Rugby anyway, in droves if last weekend was any indication. Seems real social and community interaction beat a Friday-night screening of Titanic in the book of most first years. Can't imagine why.

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