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Meeting the President
Sep. 7th, 2004 12:00 amAmazing, I finally did some homework. I still have so much more to complete and I just don’t feel like doing it.
I had a rather interesting lunch at Subway’s today. The cashier apologized to the guy ahead of me, asking if he worked for TU (Subway offers discounts to TU students and staff). He was an older man, probably in his fifties wearing thick-set glasses. I detected some humor in his smirk when he said yes. My brain screamed that he looked strangely familiar. I went to the deep recesses of my memory banks to draw his image out while I ordered my usual (6 inch BLT on wheat bread with oil and pepper).
Ding! Wait a minute…my brain must be misfiring. He’s not wearing a suit.
Why would the new President of the University of Tulsa be eating lunch at the Subway across the street?
Intrigued, I knew there was only one way to find out.
Hi, aren’t you Steadman Upham, the new president of our university? I mean, Dr. Steadman Upham. Mind if I eat lunch with you? I’m one of your Presidential Scholars (i.e. I’m on one of TU’s full academic scholarships), and I met you at the scholarship dinner.
Like all good leaders, he said that he remembered me (he might have since I’m Asian, which instantly differentiates me from the crowd). He did the usual questions (my answers were busy semester, junior, dual major in electrical engineering and history, from Ft. Smith, Vietnamese heritage, involved in student senate and the BSU). He answered mine (he’s just a worker like anyone else, he washes his own car, time will tell if he can match the previous president, double major in English literature and Spanish). We talked about the future of sports at Tulsa, hoping for a good football season (let’s go Coach Kragthorpe). He was a down to earth guy, and he knew to eat healthy since he ordered a veggie sandwich.
So I randomly got to verify that TU’s presidential search committee did a good job.
Today’s story doesn’t involve continue the saga of me becoming a confident pessimist. Instead, I’m going to honor a request to explain more about Dai Hoi. After all, it’s a turning point in my life. You could call it a digression of the confident pessimist story. You know, there’s a reason I’m a history major (I can digress forever).
It involves our controversial election at the Dai Hoi, or conference, for my non- Vietnamese affluent people. Before the election got started, the Vice President of the Vietnamese youth group Thanh Thien Nien Da Hieu (TTNDH) was supposed to tell us the by laws dealing with our election rules. Chi Thu (anime explanation lady reminds you that chi is a Vietnamese honorific denoting an older sister, though she is no blood relation to me) had unfortunately forgotten to bring them with her. So we proceeded on without really knowing what we were doing.
That would be fine as long as nobody contested the election.
The custom in Vietnamese elections is a bit different from American ones. The first thing I noticed was different was people volunteering themselves to become the CEO/President of TTNDH (strangely enough, CEO/President is the most correct way to translate the leadership job). But since Vietnamese people are so timid, people looked around silently for twenty seconds. I guess we adhere to the motto “Never volunteer” (unfortunately I’ve been Americanized).
Then I received this nudge on my shoulder. On the giving end was Phuoc, a bespectacled French girl. Her name means “lucky”. What do you do when a cute girl tells you to do something? Normally, you say no if you know what’s good for you. But I had been caught up in the emotion of my speech that morning and being moderator for the discussion session, so I stood up like a fool.
I regretted it the moment I stood up.
Fortunately, this smooth talking guy who I wanted to volunteer with me also stood up. His story was a sad one. His dad, a graduate of class twenty-four in the Vietnamese National Military Academy, had died during the war. The smooth talker became an orphan when his mom died when he was merely five years old. He struggled to make his own life and made good of his only opportunity to seek political asylum in the United States. He spoke English well despite living in the States for only five years.
Next came questioning time for the volunteer candidates. I got asked how old I was, and what I would do to learn Vietnamese. In my broken Viet speak, I replied that I was twenty years old, and I would try my best to learn Viet if I became President (everyone laughed at my horrible pronunciation of several words). What do I see as the most important thing for TTNDH n the next few years? I think it’s best if we build up the group and make contacts.
As soon as I started speaking English, I knew that I would lose to the smooth talker. He was very eloquent in Vietnamese. The main difference between our actual responses was what we considered TTNDH to be. My idealism thought that TTNDH could be a group with some political potential. On the other hand, the smooth talker thought we could best utilize TTNDH as a social group and network.
After that came nominations. In my student government, you can refuse a nomination. If I didn’t want to become the parliamentarian for TU’s student senate, then I could have simply said no and that would be the end of that. However, Vietnamese people tend to be too humble for their own good. So, you have to explain why you refused your nomination. Based on your reasoning, people voted on whether you sat down or stood up to run. If you don’t collect enough votes to sit down, then you’re obligated to run.
Why, you ask, would we use such a system? Well, it’s been explained to me that volunteering for a position appears a bit too ambitious. The greatest honor is a position that others laud you for. Of course, this means that a nomination must gracefully be refused. Yes is no, no is yes. Understand yet?
Yeah, I’m confused too.
Some people wanted the previous CEO/President and the celebrity Vice President to run again, but they politely refused on the basis of developing a new generation of leaders. Either that, or they were tired of it. Regardless, enough people voted them down. A random guy, a self-described black sheep, accepted his nomination. A Beantowner cited his upcoming marriage as an excuse not to run. A girl from San Jose refused on the basis of her youth and time commitments in college (unfortunately, people couldn’t vote me down for her reasons because I had volunteered to run). Only the Vu, the pretty boy from San Jose, had to stay standing because he claimed that he would be too busy.
An aside, there were two Vu’s at the conference. To differentiate, we called the bald Vu from San Diego “Da Monk” (in Vietnamese). Since the other Vu always wore nice clothes, we called him “Pretty Boy”.
First place earned the CEO/President slot, while second place won the Inspector General position. The inspector’s job was to investigate the President’s actions and make sure he was doing a good job.
Of thirty-seven votes, nineteen went to the smooth talker. Twelve went to the pretty boy, three to me, and two to the black sheep. Oddly enough, someone turned in a blank vote.
After the election, the pretty boy told me he had voted for me since he was impressed that someone so young could display such leadership (this guy must be blind). Another random guy from Philadelphia told me he liked young people, so he voted for me (whatever floats his boat). By process of elimination, I knew who the third vote was.
Like an eager puppy, I asked Phuoc if she had voted for me. She paused a second, and told me that she was actually the blank vote. Apparently, she didn’t want to vote for any of the candidates up there. I won’t lie, I’ll give you a G rated version of my thoughts at that very moment.
You told me to stand up and then you don’t vote for me, you stupid b***h!
Even though I might have had righteous anger, it didn’t excuse the thoughts in my head. May the good Lord forgive me.
Later on, she did confide in me that I could have won if I could speak Vietnamese better. I could wait a few years to develop the necessary talents.
I wouldn’t have thought too much more about this except for the fact that someone inevitably contested the elections. For reasons I never thought I would experience in person.
I’ve heard my parents tell me stories of communists infiltrating organizations to learn more about them. In this case, they heard through the grapevine that one of my Dad’s trustworthy army buddies in class twenty-eight had lunch with the smooth talker from San Jose. This guy came away with the conclusion that the smooth talker was such a communist infiltrator. I admit, I thought my parents were talking conspiracy talk.
The problem was that the smooth talker never got his story down straight. Nobody in class twenty-four was willing to admit that they had heard of his father. Somehow, he had gotten two business degrees already in the short time he had been here. He had promised to marry some American girl so he could stay in America, somehow coming up some thirty thousand U.S. dollars (I believe the exchange is something like five thousand Vietnamese piasters to one American dollar). Hmmm, not something you normally want in a leader.
Still, I’m a big believer in being innocent until proven guilty. Rumors are simply that, rumors. Whatever he said at this point could be explained as lashing out for people suspecting him.
But then I joined the yahoo group for TTNDH. People who attended Dai Hoi started discussing the smooth talker. As it turns out, everyone seemed to have a suspicion about this fellow. He tried too hard to impress us; he did magic tricks, palm readings, and karaoke. It worked on me because I voted for the guy.
Hindsight is twenty-twenty, though, so it could have been that we just put our fears into the things we saw and heard at Dai Hoi. But then Chi Thu chimed in with her doubts.
For me, a shred of doubt from Chi Thu, also known as the female general of our South Vietnamese flag, is enough to condemn the smooth talker.
I don’t know if he is some communist infiltrator (that’s just too absurd for me), but at this point he can’t be our leader anymore. Too many people suspect him now. Even if his story is true, he’s too hurt and saddened to properly guide us. It’s unfortunate, but it’s the truth.
This resulted mainly from forgetting our by laws. TTNDH has had to move forward, and we’re in the process of finding a new President.
Sadly, this experience has made me appreciate Tulsa’s Student Association more. For all of its wackiness, SA’s strict adherence to our constitution and standing rules gives us our legitimacy.
I had a rather interesting lunch at Subway’s today. The cashier apologized to the guy ahead of me, asking if he worked for TU (Subway offers discounts to TU students and staff). He was an older man, probably in his fifties wearing thick-set glasses. I detected some humor in his smirk when he said yes. My brain screamed that he looked strangely familiar. I went to the deep recesses of my memory banks to draw his image out while I ordered my usual (6 inch BLT on wheat bread with oil and pepper).
Ding! Wait a minute…my brain must be misfiring. He’s not wearing a suit.
Why would the new President of the University of Tulsa be eating lunch at the Subway across the street?
Intrigued, I knew there was only one way to find out.
Hi, aren’t you Steadman Upham, the new president of our university? I mean, Dr. Steadman Upham. Mind if I eat lunch with you? I’m one of your Presidential Scholars (i.e. I’m on one of TU’s full academic scholarships), and I met you at the scholarship dinner.
Like all good leaders, he said that he remembered me (he might have since I’m Asian, which instantly differentiates me from the crowd). He did the usual questions (my answers were busy semester, junior, dual major in electrical engineering and history, from Ft. Smith, Vietnamese heritage, involved in student senate and the BSU). He answered mine (he’s just a worker like anyone else, he washes his own car, time will tell if he can match the previous president, double major in English literature and Spanish). We talked about the future of sports at Tulsa, hoping for a good football season (let’s go Coach Kragthorpe). He was a down to earth guy, and he knew to eat healthy since he ordered a veggie sandwich.
So I randomly got to verify that TU’s presidential search committee did a good job.
Today’s story doesn’t involve continue the saga of me becoming a confident pessimist. Instead, I’m going to honor a request to explain more about Dai Hoi. After all, it’s a turning point in my life. You could call it a digression of the confident pessimist story. You know, there’s a reason I’m a history major (I can digress forever).
It involves our controversial election at the Dai Hoi, or conference, for my non- Vietnamese affluent people. Before the election got started, the Vice President of the Vietnamese youth group Thanh Thien Nien Da Hieu (TTNDH) was supposed to tell us the by laws dealing with our election rules. Chi Thu (anime explanation lady reminds you that chi is a Vietnamese honorific denoting an older sister, though she is no blood relation to me) had unfortunately forgotten to bring them with her. So we proceeded on without really knowing what we were doing.
That would be fine as long as nobody contested the election.
The custom in Vietnamese elections is a bit different from American ones. The first thing I noticed was different was people volunteering themselves to become the CEO/President of TTNDH (strangely enough, CEO/President is the most correct way to translate the leadership job). But since Vietnamese people are so timid, people looked around silently for twenty seconds. I guess we adhere to the motto “Never volunteer” (unfortunately I’ve been Americanized).
Then I received this nudge on my shoulder. On the giving end was Phuoc, a bespectacled French girl. Her name means “lucky”. What do you do when a cute girl tells you to do something? Normally, you say no if you know what’s good for you. But I had been caught up in the emotion of my speech that morning and being moderator for the discussion session, so I stood up like a fool.
I regretted it the moment I stood up.
Fortunately, this smooth talking guy who I wanted to volunteer with me also stood up. His story was a sad one. His dad, a graduate of class twenty-four in the Vietnamese National Military Academy, had died during the war. The smooth talker became an orphan when his mom died when he was merely five years old. He struggled to make his own life and made good of his only opportunity to seek political asylum in the United States. He spoke English well despite living in the States for only five years.
Next came questioning time for the volunteer candidates. I got asked how old I was, and what I would do to learn Vietnamese. In my broken Viet speak, I replied that I was twenty years old, and I would try my best to learn Viet if I became President (everyone laughed at my horrible pronunciation of several words). What do I see as the most important thing for TTNDH n the next few years? I think it’s best if we build up the group and make contacts.
As soon as I started speaking English, I knew that I would lose to the smooth talker. He was very eloquent in Vietnamese. The main difference between our actual responses was what we considered TTNDH to be. My idealism thought that TTNDH could be a group with some political potential. On the other hand, the smooth talker thought we could best utilize TTNDH as a social group and network.
After that came nominations. In my student government, you can refuse a nomination. If I didn’t want to become the parliamentarian for TU’s student senate, then I could have simply said no and that would be the end of that. However, Vietnamese people tend to be too humble for their own good. So, you have to explain why you refused your nomination. Based on your reasoning, people voted on whether you sat down or stood up to run. If you don’t collect enough votes to sit down, then you’re obligated to run.
Why, you ask, would we use such a system? Well, it’s been explained to me that volunteering for a position appears a bit too ambitious. The greatest honor is a position that others laud you for. Of course, this means that a nomination must gracefully be refused. Yes is no, no is yes. Understand yet?
Yeah, I’m confused too.
Some people wanted the previous CEO/President and the celebrity Vice President to run again, but they politely refused on the basis of developing a new generation of leaders. Either that, or they were tired of it. Regardless, enough people voted them down. A random guy, a self-described black sheep, accepted his nomination. A Beantowner cited his upcoming marriage as an excuse not to run. A girl from San Jose refused on the basis of her youth and time commitments in college (unfortunately, people couldn’t vote me down for her reasons because I had volunteered to run). Only the Vu, the pretty boy from San Jose, had to stay standing because he claimed that he would be too busy.
An aside, there were two Vu’s at the conference. To differentiate, we called the bald Vu from San Diego “Da Monk” (in Vietnamese). Since the other Vu always wore nice clothes, we called him “Pretty Boy”.
First place earned the CEO/President slot, while second place won the Inspector General position. The inspector’s job was to investigate the President’s actions and make sure he was doing a good job.
Of thirty-seven votes, nineteen went to the smooth talker. Twelve went to the pretty boy, three to me, and two to the black sheep. Oddly enough, someone turned in a blank vote.
After the election, the pretty boy told me he had voted for me since he was impressed that someone so young could display such leadership (this guy must be blind). Another random guy from Philadelphia told me he liked young people, so he voted for me (whatever floats his boat). By process of elimination, I knew who the third vote was.
Like an eager puppy, I asked Phuoc if she had voted for me. She paused a second, and told me that she was actually the blank vote. Apparently, she didn’t want to vote for any of the candidates up there. I won’t lie, I’ll give you a G rated version of my thoughts at that very moment.
You told me to stand up and then you don’t vote for me, you stupid b***h!
Even though I might have had righteous anger, it didn’t excuse the thoughts in my head. May the good Lord forgive me.
Later on, she did confide in me that I could have won if I could speak Vietnamese better. I could wait a few years to develop the necessary talents.
I wouldn’t have thought too much more about this except for the fact that someone inevitably contested the elections. For reasons I never thought I would experience in person.
I’ve heard my parents tell me stories of communists infiltrating organizations to learn more about them. In this case, they heard through the grapevine that one of my Dad’s trustworthy army buddies in class twenty-eight had lunch with the smooth talker from San Jose. This guy came away with the conclusion that the smooth talker was such a communist infiltrator. I admit, I thought my parents were talking conspiracy talk.
The problem was that the smooth talker never got his story down straight. Nobody in class twenty-four was willing to admit that they had heard of his father. Somehow, he had gotten two business degrees already in the short time he had been here. He had promised to marry some American girl so he could stay in America, somehow coming up some thirty thousand U.S. dollars (I believe the exchange is something like five thousand Vietnamese piasters to one American dollar). Hmmm, not something you normally want in a leader.
Still, I’m a big believer in being innocent until proven guilty. Rumors are simply that, rumors. Whatever he said at this point could be explained as lashing out for people suspecting him.
But then I joined the yahoo group for TTNDH. People who attended Dai Hoi started discussing the smooth talker. As it turns out, everyone seemed to have a suspicion about this fellow. He tried too hard to impress us; he did magic tricks, palm readings, and karaoke. It worked on me because I voted for the guy.
Hindsight is twenty-twenty, though, so it could have been that we just put our fears into the things we saw and heard at Dai Hoi. But then Chi Thu chimed in with her doubts.
For me, a shred of doubt from Chi Thu, also known as the female general of our South Vietnamese flag, is enough to condemn the smooth talker.
I don’t know if he is some communist infiltrator (that’s just too absurd for me), but at this point he can’t be our leader anymore. Too many people suspect him now. Even if his story is true, he’s too hurt and saddened to properly guide us. It’s unfortunate, but it’s the truth.
This resulted mainly from forgetting our by laws. TTNDH has had to move forward, and we’re in the process of finding a new President.
Sadly, this experience has made me appreciate Tulsa’s Student Association more. For all of its wackiness, SA’s strict adherence to our constitution and standing rules gives us our legitimacy.
