The Clarion | Issue 2 | Sept. 2020 by The Clarion

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Deaf and hard of hearing students face new barriers amid mask mandate B E T H E L

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On the cover:

Contents Photo by Will Jacott

When COVID-19 swept through the U.S. in March, the mask mandate cut off access to lipreading for one in five individuals in Minnesota, including the 10 undergrad students and seven seminary and graduate students at Bethel who are deaf or hard of hearing.

Racism can’t hide in the suburbs 04 A place to simply be six feet apart 08 ‘I need to have the full picture’: Deaf and hard of hearing students face new barriers amid mask mandate 14 Taking a knee 18 Takeout option increasing waste output on campus 20 Worship in the age of COVID-19 24 Not just the cheering crowds 26 Six feet and one weight rack apart 28 In defense of bricks 30 Conversations with Ross Allen 34 pg. 04

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from the editor SEPT. 2020

Contributers

Molly Korzenowski Managing editor m-korzenowski@bethel.edu

alking around Bethel’s campus is different this year. I am no longer met by an array of smiling faces and laughing friends, sitting hip to hip in the oversized chairs by Royal Grounds. People walk swiftly out of the buildings following class, creating an eerie quiet in the halls even before the sun sets over Lake Valentine. Although these differences are simply noticeable to me, they are exhausting for others. In this issue, we take a look at the campus through the eyes of students who rely on lipreading and clear speaking to learn. For them, a mask is more than an inconvenience; it is a communication barrier. We enter the colorfully-lit Cultural Connection Center, converted into a COVID-friendly walk through museum, open to any curious onlooker who walks by. Diversity and Inclusion Associate Pang Moua welcomes all students, adorned in her homemade mask. We march through a suburban neighborhood in Woodbury, where Black Lives Matter protestors take a stand in their community. Their message is a reminder that racial injustice is not just a city issue; it lurks in the corners of high schools and is peppered throughout white neighborhoods. During these last few months, the world has been changing. It’s easy to pretend that the Bethel Bubble is the same, that everything is back to normal; but this is simply not the truth. I read masks before graphic t-shirts and my glasses fog up even when it’s warm out. No matter where or when I decide to hang up a hammock to quietly read a book, I end up being interrupted by a stream of frisbee disks around me. The once deserted paths my roommate and I would take around campus to get some fresh air are full of joggers, just trying to get in a run without reserving a slot at the Wellness Center. A Trump sign hangs on a Getsch Hall window and a new paint job stating “BLM” covers the rock in Kresge Courtyard in black and white spray paint. I put out my hand to rub in some hand sanitizer, using my elbow to push open the door as I start my trek down the North Path. My favorite playlist blasts in my ears as I remove my mask, sticking to the edge of the path to stay six feet away from passersby. I smile and breathe, knowing that despite all the changes, we are here for a reason.

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Emma Harville - Editor Molly Korzenowski - Managing editor Jhenna Becker - Copy Editor Will Jacott - Visuals Editor Vada Stoddard - Section Designer Josh Eller - Section Designer Emma Gottschalk - Photographer & Designer Bryson Rosell - Photographer & Designer Vanna Contreras - Photographer Thanh Nguyen - Designer Alexa Vos - Designer Toan Vo - Designer Emma Eidsvoog - Lifestyle Editor Makenna Cook - Lifestyle Reporter Laura Osterlund - News Editor Rachel Blood - News Reporter Abby Pautz - Sports Editor Lynsey Zeng - Opinion Columnist Jamal Davis - Contributing Writer Emily Rossing - Contributing Writer Grace Perround - Contributing Writer

Have a response to an article in this issue? Email Editor Emma Harville at emma-harville@bethel.edu with questions, thoughts or concerns or drop by The Clarion Newsroom during community time Tuesdays and Thursdays to speak with a Clarion staff member.

Want to write for The Clarion? Email our Managing Editor Molly Korzenenowski at m-korzenowski@bethel.edu and she'll get you connected. See all stories online at bethelclarion. com, or follow us on social media: THE BETHEL UNIVERSITY CLARION THEBUCLARION THEBUCLARION BETHELCLARION.COM

‘Racism can’t hide in the suburbs’ Families and students of Woodbury High School marched through the Twin Cities suburbs to protest racial injustice in School District 833.

By Emma Harville

Students march through the neighborhoods near Woodbury High School in protest of racism in their school district. |Photo by Emma Gottschalk

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rotestors gathered at Woodbury High School – the home district of Derek Chauvin, former Minneapolis police officer charged with murder in the death of George Floyd – September 12 to demand protection for its students of color. The rally, hosted by On Site Public Media and the Twin Cities Coalition for Justice 4 Jamar, called on School District 833 to establish a zero tolerance policy for racism and discrimination and to place a heavier focus on hiring administrators, counselors and teachers of color in its schools. The crowd marched through a predominantly white neighborhood, past lawn signs that read “Join Girl Scouts!” while carrying signs of their own. But the signs they carried said phrases such as, “We will not be silent!” and “Black women deserve better” in bright red paint. Some white residents peeked curiously out of floral living room curtains. Others stood on the steps of their wrap around porches, watching as protestors marched over their manicured lawns and chanted, “Racism can’t hide in the suburbs!” Located 25 minutes from Bethel University, Woodbury is a Twin Cities suburb and the largest city in Washington County. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the city’s population is about 80 percent white. Floyd’s death and the nationwide protests that followed have made racism and police brutality major topics in the upcoming presidential election, and more Black women from Twin Cities suburbs are running for offices on the state level to ensure their voices are heard. The Star Tribune reported in June that four Black women filed for Minnesota State Senate seats following Floyd’s death, including Woodbury resident Marquita Stephens. Others are running for seats in the state House and Congress. According to the Minnesota State Demographic Center, people of color make up 20 percent of Minnesota’s total population, but only 10 percent of the Legislature.

a question: “When was the first moment you found out Woodbury might be a little more racist than you thought?” Manashree Padiyath, a May graduate from Woodbury High School, said she was just one year old. Her neighbor rang her family’s doorbell and said, “Hey, did they teach you how to make bombs in engineering school? Are you going to bomb me?” “My mom was carrying me; she was scared and didn’t know what to do,” Padiyath said. “I can’t confront him about it because he’s still my neighbor.” WHS student Rhea Viswanathan said she was in kindergarten. She liked to play with dolls, even though they didn’t look like her. She remembers grabbing a Barbie from the bin during play time and a white girl tugging it away. When Viswanathan tried to grab it back, the girl looked at her and said, “No wonder you’re so mean and ugly; you’re Black.” “That was the day I knew in my heart that people, that parents, teach this to their children,” Viswanathan said. A 2015 WHS graduate said she was in middle school when a group of white boys found out she was Muslim and from Bangladesh. They’d corner her each day and ask whether her father was Osama Bin Laden. They asked her if she made bombs and if they could get some from her. When she walked into the classroom, she said the boys would bang on their desks and sing a song about how her walking into a room “was 9/11 all over again.” “While the administration watched,” she said.

“Derek Chauvin came from my high school – class of 1994. All of this hits close to home.” BRANDON TULLOCH

“While I told my teachers. Those boys were so loud, and it happened every single day.” In high school, she decided it would be easier to pretend she wasn’t Muslim and that she celebrated Christmas like the other students. “I made myself invisible until no one could do that to me anymore,” she said.

Brandon Tulloch performs his spoken word poem for a crowd of protesters in the parking lot of Woodbury High School. | Photo by Emma Gottschalk

‘All of this hits close to home’ Some protestors were local students who wanted to share their stories. “Derek Chauvin came from my high school – class of 1994,” said Brandon Tulloch, 2015 Park High School graduate. “All of this hits close to home.” Tulloch shared a spoken word poem he wrote about the sacrifice and support he’s seen Black women give to the movement for justice. “I foresee a future for you all,” Tulloch said to the crowd, now sprawled on the front lawn of WHS. “One where our daughters don’t have to spend hours with a flat iron before class, where they know their curls are not a curse but a crown. Where they don’t physically damage their hair to deal with the psychological damage.” After the march, protest organizer and Onsite Public Media show host Toussaint Morrison asked the crowd

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“Watch me talk about my God and watch my God trump over all this evil, because that’s what we’re fighting against – evil.” TOSHIRA GARRAWAY

Protesters march down Lamplight Drive while reciting chants lead by Toussaint Morrison. Photo by Emma Gottschalk

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‘This pain is nothing to play with’ The rally also called attention to police violence through testimonies of three community members, including Toshira Garraway of St. Paul. Garraway was the fiancé of Justin Teigen, whose body was found in a recycling plant in St. Paul hours after a police stop in August 2009. She is now a single mother to their 14-year-old son. According to a story in the Pioneer Press, Teigen eluded St. Paul police by hiding in a recycling plant after crashing his car. Teigen’s death certificate states his cause of death was “asphyxia due to mechanical compression in recycling truck.” His death was labeled an accident. “I wish that this wasn’t my story, but it is,” Garraway said. “These are the realities that we’re living through.” Garraway founded Families Supporting Families Against Police Violence, a group aiming to help provide support for family members who’ve lost loved ones to law enforcement encounters. “It’s my family supporting other families against this violence, standing together in unity,” Garraway said. “Keep on watching. Watch me talk about my God and watch my God trump over all this evil, because that’s what we’re fighting against – evil.” St. Paul resident Marilyn Hill is a part of Garraway’s group. Her son, Demetrius Hill, was killed by St. Paul police officers in 1997. He was 18 years old. According to a story in the Star Tribune, authorities alleged that Hill stole money and jewelry from an acquaintance outside an apartment complex, then tried several times to shoot him. However, police said Hill’s gun malfunctioned. A half-hour later, Hill refused a police order to stop and attempted to fire at officers, but the gun again malfunctioned. An officer then shot Hill four or five times. The officer was placed on routine administrative leave while the incident was investigated, but ultimately was not found guilty of wrongdoing. “When they shot my son, my daddy came out in the hallway,” Marilyn Hill said. “How would you feel if your mother or father saw your own child or grandchild laying on the ground, and the police pointed a gun at him and told you to go back into your apartment?”

Hill said her father was so devastated that he died four months later. “That’s a broken heart feeling, when you lose your father,” Hill said. “He couldn’t bear the pain. But when I tried to get help, I couldn’t get no one to talk to me.” Both Garraway and Hill demanded their sons’ cases be reopened, for their stories to be heard. “I’m out here because I don’t want to see anyone else, any of you, go through this,” Garraway said. “This pain is nothing to play with.” WHS junior Anneteke Adoga wants people to know that although anyone could walk around Woodbury and see big houses, expensive cars and polite people, people of color are not living the same reality. Adoga, along with several other WHS students and graduates of color, don’t share their stories often because they know only a few others will relate to them, she said. And when they report bullying or harassment to administration, Adoga says, they’re told to “take the high road” and brush it off. “But just because we don’t talk about them, doesn’t mean they do not happen,” WHS May graduate Omonigho Egi said. “This is what it’s like to be Black in Woodbury.” Each Sunday at 4:30 p.m., On Site Public Media will host a George Floyd Square Youth Open Mic at the intersection of 38th and Chicago in Minneapolis, where youth and students can share their stories in a public forum. Morrison encourages people of all ages and backgrounds to attend and listen. “You may think you have an idea of your community,” Morrison said. “But you really have no clue.” C “This town is somewhat insidious. Even though you’re here, you may not be here for our liberation. You have to understand that you have to do more as a white person” Toussaint Morrison, Onsite Public Media. | Photo by Molly Korzenowski Manashree Padiyath poses for a photo with her protest sign outside of her alma mater, Woodbury High School. | Photo by Emma Gottschalk

Woodbury High School Race/Ethnicity Distribution White 65.1% Asian/Pacific Islander 11.9% Black-non Hispanic 10.8% Hispanic 7.5% American Indian/Alaskan Native 0.3% Statistics according to Woodbury High School.

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Candlelit display within the CCC. Photo by Will Jacott

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A place to simply be six feet apart The Cultural Connection Center begins the semester with new safety measures and a renewed purpose By Emma Eidsvoog

atsamee Thosaengsiri came to the Cultural Connection Center first as a freshman, welcomed by a student named Michelle. Two years ago, the center, a 429-square-foot room on the third floor of the Clauson Center, included tables and chairs for students to play board games and do homework. Now, it’s limited to a walkthrough as a museum exhibit. But learning still happens, and

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so does the community Thosaengsiri was drawn to her freshman year. “I love Bethel, but sometimes having a place that you can see people like you and have a space that welcomes you and you can sit in there and enjoy...Those were the best moments from freshman year,” Ratsamee Thosaengsiri said. Thosaengsiri, now a CCC Ambassador, sits at the desk in the front of the room behind a sheet

“I love Bethel, but sometimes [you need] a place you can see people like you, have a space that welcomes you and that you can sit in there and enjoy. Those were the best moments from freshman year.”

of plexiglass each Friday. She welcomes students into the space and introduces them to the exhibits. Diversity and Inclusion Associate Pang Moua, who has an office in the back right corner, spent the summer trying to figure out how to continue their center with social distancing. In the past, the CCC involved sharing food and laughs and sitting close with one another on couches while doing homework. “I’m looking forward to sitting shoulder to shoulder again,” Pang Moua said. After the release of students from campus in the spring, Moua continued to connect through letters, meal drop-offs and prayer blankets. She knows the CCC is not just the four walls of CC317, it’s also the people.

When Moua and campus pastor Paul Kong were faced with restructuring the center, Kong was inspired by the Sankofa trips he led every spring break. The group visited sites that made a significant impact during the civil rights movement, such as the National Civil Rights museum, where Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated in 1968. Kong thought of creating ‘exhibits’ within the CCC for students and faculty to reflect on the theme of humanity. “Seeing powerful images triggers thought and makes you ask questions,” Kong said. The space now serves as a walkthrough, like a museum, with exhibits for learning and reflecting. The first stop is a mirror with the words “Beloved, you belong here” placed over the top and polaroids

Ratsamee Thosaengsiri, JUNIOR

Above, TyTeeona Howard, CCC ambassador, interacts with the spotlight shelves within the CCC. Photo by Will Left, Pang Moua, diversity and inclusion associate, explains the importance of the displays within the CCC. Photo by Will Jacott

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A poem cut into strips of paper on the wall. The poem, written by Chief Diversity Officer Ruben Rivera, is about seeing Jesus in people.

This wall, called “The Jesus Experience,” exhibits different artistic variations of what Jesus looked like.

The “Know their name” exhibit includes paper bricks with names of those killed by law enforcement. The mirror is for students to reflect on their own humanity alongside those who were killed.

This closet is packed with furniture the center can’t use due to social distancing guidelines.

Students walk around the tables running down the middle of the center. The plexiglass with prayers taped to it is surrounded by electric candles.

Spotlight wall with information and pictures of the ambassadors.

Mirror with words “Beloved, you belong here” written across the top. Polaroids of CCC visitors surround the edges.

Storage area

Books available for students to borrow and learn from.

Ambassadors welcome students from the desk during open hours. They can answer questions and connect them to other resources.

CCC Spacial Map

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bordering the edges. Kong says this is a reminder for all students that the center is intended for all students, including white students who feel the space isn’t for them to interact with. “When you see the image of yourself it will help reinforce that you belong here, we all belong here; together,” Kong said. Shelves with photos of CCC’s ambassadors line the left wall. Each week, an ambassador is on “spotlight” and will share their favorite candy. The next stop, called “Know their name,” has papers written with names of people killed by law en-

forcement. In the middle, a mirror hangs with a block underneath saying “unknown name.” Kong says the exhibit is to remind others of the victims’ humanity. That they had names, children and people who cared for them. “When the person looks in the mirror, they realize that this could be us. This is who we are, we are also imperfect individuals,” Kong said. “A person’s name helps us remember their humanity.” The back wall holds a collage of a poem written by Chief Diversity Officer Ruben Rivera, and on the right are images of Jesus portrayed in different cultural perspectives.

Kong said the Jesus he related to the most wasn’t the European style he grew up seeing. Plexiglass and tables divide the center down the middle, but they are plastered with printed out prayers and battery-powered candles. This semester, Moua was excited to see new faces of students, faculty and staff in the center – one of them being Bethel’s new president, Ross Allen. The first week of classes tested the CCC’s new layout. Students came to connect after a six-month absence, some sat on the floor due to the lack of chairs. “I hold my worries in tension

with each other: protection and connection; protection from the virus and connection with students of color on campus,” Moua said. Moua and Kong saw a need to clarify the purpose of the CCC. Their focus this year is to “support historically marginalized groups on campus and welcome people who have a desire to develop their intercultural competence.” “The CCC is evidence that specifically students of color at Bethel have been crying out for a place to simply be, for a place to simply belong, to let down their guard and be accepted as them,” Pang said. “It’s like a rest stop for them.”

“I hold my worries in tension with each other: protection and connection; protection from the virus and connection with students of color on campus,” Pang Moua, Diversity and Inclusion Associate

Pang Moua, diversity and inclusion associate, shares the importance of the CCC to students of color and overall connection on campus | Photo by Will Jacott

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View of the spotlight shelves from within the CCC. Photo by Emma Gottschalk.

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Molly Longtin poses as she sits at her desk in her dorm room in North Village. Photo by Will Jacott

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‘I need to have the full picture’ DEAF AND HARD OF HEARING STUDENTS FACE NEW BARRIERS AMID MASK MANDATE

By Makenna Cook

ethel University junior Molly Longtin sighed as she discussed having to wear her hearing aids again. Before COVID-19 she was able to get by without them, using her two interpreters and lipreading. Now, Longtin must figure out how to learn in a new reality where everyone wears face coverings and lipreading is no longer an option. Longtin was born with a cleft lip, which doctors believe contributed to her diagnosis of sensorineural hearing loss in first grade. While she can hear some speech, certain letter sounds are difficult for her to understand. Throughout high school, interpreters in the classroom helped Longtin understand lectures. Her classmates were aware of her hearing loss and accessibility needs, so her accommodations were never an issue. But in college, having interpreters follow her around seemed

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to be a different story. “When I have an interpreter in class, people don’t really come up to talk to me; they kind of try to avoid me,” Longtin said. “Here [at Bethel] I’ve had many professors who have never had an interpreter in their class. It’s just a lack of understanding and awareness, which isn’t always their fault, or anyone’s fault. A lot of people just didn’t grow up with interpreters [in the classroom].” Bethel provides accessibility accommodation options for the 10 undergrad students and seven seminary and graduate students who are deaf or hard of hearing. But when COVID-19 swept through the U.S. in March, the mask mandate cut off access to lipreading for one in five individuals in Minnesota. “[Masks] were something we were sensitive to right away as the conversations of face coverings came up this summer as we prepared for it,” Bethel Director of

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Deaf and hard of hearing Minnesotans <1.1 MILLION

Approximately one in five Minnesotans (20 percent) is deaf or hard of hearing—more than 1.1 million people. | Source: The Minnesota Deaf and Hard of Hearing Services Division | Graphic by Emma Gottschalk

â&#x20AC;&#x153;Not being able to hear people or read their lips at all; sometimes it makes me want to cry.â&#x20AC;?

Jhenna becker changes the batteries in her coclear implants. Photo by Will Jacott

JHENNA BECKER

Cochlear implants

A cochlear implant uses a sound processor that you wear behind your ear. A transmitter sends sound signals to a receiver and stimulator implanted under the skin, which stimulate the auditory nerve with electrodes that have been threaded into the cochlea. | Source: Mayo Clinic. Graphic by: Josh Eller.

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Accessibility Resources and Services Liz Burd said. Bethel junior English and Journalism double major Jhenna Becker lost her hearing during the first year of her life. She is now profoundly deaf and wears two cochlear implants. “Literally so much has changed because of COVID,” Becker said. “Having classes online is not ideal. The way technology distorts video and sound makes it really difficult.” When Bethel took their classes to a Google Hangouts setting this spring, the Office of Accessibility and Resources and Services, also known as OARS, was able to secure a closed caption option for virtual classes. Closed captioning is something Becker wants to see more of throughout Bethel’s campus. Currently, captioning is supplied during events to students who need them when they ask the OARS office in advance according to the Office of Accessibility and Resources. The OARS is currently supplying clear masks to professors of deaf and hard of hearing students, as well as anyone else who asks for them. These clear masks allow those who rely on lipreading to be able to follow conversation. Clear masks are not a recent development – the Deaf community has been troubleshooting this communication issue since masks were mandated. For many deaf and hard-of-hearing students, the classroom is not the only place where masks have caused a communication barrier.

“Not being able to hear people or read their lips at all; sometimes it makes me want to cry,” Becker said. “I use facial expressions and reading lips everyday. I can hear with my cochlear implants too, but it just doesn’t help. I need to have the full picture.” Longtin didn’t immediately consider accessibility when filling out college applications, but she knew about Bethel’s ASL program and hoped the university would be more aware of the Deaf community than others in the area. Bethel University offers American Sign Language 1 and American Sign Language 2 for students to fulfill their S-tag, but there is currently no major or minor for ASL. While Longtin found Bethel community members to have good intentions when addressing accessibility concerns, she sees a fine line between giving support and pitying the Deaf community. “[Students] think it’s like a charity case… pity is something that is very rampant in the hearing community towards the Deaf community,” Longtin said. Longtin hopes more education on the Deaf culture and community is something in Bethel’s future. A basic way this could be achieved, she says, is through hiring professors from the Deaf community. “It’s just like wearing glasses, [but] instead of wearing glasses I’m wearing hearing aids,” Longtin said. “You can’t see and I can’t hear. It doesn’t make things more difficult, it’s just different.”

Jhenna Becker particpating in an online class from the living room of her dorm. Photo by Will Jacott

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As Americans throughout the U.S. protest and use public platforms to raise awareness of racial injustice, athletes of all levels across the nation have taken a stand to support Black Lives Matter and the families of those killed by law enforcement. Junior basketball player Jamal Davis shares why, as an African American athlete at Bethel, he has decided to kneel during the national anthem.

Opinion

By contributing writer Jamal Davis

he death of George Floyd has The death of George Floyd has reminded our community of the hurt and ongoing battle for equality. I have experienced and seen many people show they are tired. Tired of not being treated fairly. Tired of being looked down on. Tired of being stereotyped. Tired of fearing for their lives. And most of all, tired of people ignoring the ongoing inequality. My name is Jamal Davis and I am an African American athlete at Bethel University. I grew up playing basketball all my life in the Hopkins community, which allowed me to surround myself with diverse teammates. It taught and continues to teach me how diversity lets you get to know one another and respect where you come from. Hopkins gave me a great experience to expand and grow with my white teammates and ultimately learn to respect them and where they come from. My journey at Bethel started in the fall of 2019. I was drawn to Bethel to play basketball again after taking two years off. I immediately got along well with my

teammates and I loved the culture of the team. I can’t speak for other African American students attending Bethel, because every single one of us has probably had a different experience; good and bad. I learned over time that attending a predominantly white university as a Black man provides a bit of a different experience for some and for others not much difference at all. Coming from someone who doesn’t pay much attention to what others think, it has led me to not encounter any moments of feeling inequality thus far. I don’t voice much of my opinion elsewhere except with teammates and I always feel my voice is heard by them. I recognize I am a part of the minority at Bethel, therefore I do want to step into the role of using my voice more often. Here we go: NBA players kneeling during the national anthem communicates a strong and loud message. It shows their frustration and the need for change. This fight for equality won’t be easy and it will take all of us for change to happen. It’s time we all come together as a community, even here at Bethel, to take a stand and stop hoping for a change but instead be the change. That is why I will be using the platform I have at Bethel as an African American athlete and will also kneel during the anthem.

Graphic by Josh Eller

Takeout optio increasing waste output on campus New to-go containers from the DC fill trash and recycling bins alike across campus, concerning Creation Restoration members and environmental activists.

How long until itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s gone? Years taken to decompose: PROCESSED CARDBOARD PLASTIC BOTTLES STYRENE PLASTIC UTENSILS

0 YEARS 20

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Students now have a to-go option in the Monson Dining Center, leading to an increase in campus waste. Photo by Will Jacott

By Rachel Blood

rash bins across Bethel University’s campus overflow daily with styrofoam food containers as more students opt for Monson Dining Center’s new takeout option. While the new dining system may be COVID-friendly, how is it impacting the environment?

Senior Elise Ogden, student co-leader of campus group Creation Restoration, worries about waste output in any community, but is particularly invested in Bethel’s. Creation Restoration believes stewardship of the earth is a commandment of respect, as mentioned in Psalm 24:1. Ogden is disheartened by the

piles of recyclables thrown into trash bins by students across campus. The student club she leads started an initiative to unite all corners of campus to move toward reducing collective impact, and is offering a sustainability challenge this fall. “As a facilities management worker, I placed four extra garbage cans

Graphic by Vada Stoddard

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Left, seniors Elise Ogden and Kylie Knutsen, co-leaders of the Creation Restoration group at Bethel, dicuss different reuseable and decomposable options to use every day. Photo by Emma Gottschalk

Below, image of overflowing trash and recycling bins, due to the large increase in waste on campus cause by COVID-19 food protocols. Photo submitted by Arianna Richardson

Left, Bob Schuchardt, known as Sodexo Bob, explains the COVID-19 protocol that Bethel follows in order to promote student and faculty saftey. Photo by Will Jacott

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in the BC during Welcome Week to ensure there wouldn’t be constant overflow,” said senior Creation Restoration co-leader Kylie Knutsen. The DC’s to-go containers are made of styrofoam. Some styrofoam is made of expanded polystyrene foam, which clogs storm drains, litters beaches and streets, and harms animals. Polystyrene is Ogden’s largest environmental pet peeve. It also increases methane production in landfills, which has an ozone potency 20 times that of carbon dioxide. The National Toxicology Program lists styrene, which leaches from polystyrene and takes over 500 years to break down in a landfill, as reasonably anticipated to be a carcinogen. Even after breaking down, it becomes microplastic. The DC’s plastic utensils are not recyclable in Arden Hills and take up to 1000 years to degrade. Bob Schuchardt, known to the student body as Sodexo Bob, holds a wildlife biology degree and manages dining services at Bethel. This past summer, Sodexo worked as a team to determine how to open dining services with the looming presence of the coronavirus pandemic. Because dining center capacity was brought from 750 down to 250, a to-go program was a necessity. Currently, Minnesota state guidelines don’t allow reusable containers, mugs or water bottles in the DC or 3900 Grill. Schuchardt said the current to-go system is a quick fix allowing dining services to stay open, but he hopes to increase capacity to 350 and introduce more environmentally friendly to-go options as soon as it’s safe. Schuchardt noted that students are taking meals to-go often because they want to sit in groups outdoors. Ogden would like to see an alternative to-go container implemented

in the DC similar to what the Grill uses for disposables. The bottom of these containers is compostable while the top is recyclable, although many students do not take care in properly disposing of these bins. The faculty sustainability board, a group of Bethel staff that meets regularly to discuss ways to increase campus sustainability, has made attempts to educate students on how to recycle the containers via staff volunteers stationed near trash bins in the BC. However, it is ultimately up to our community members to be mindful about their habits and actions. Some containers cannot be recycled despite having a recycle symbol. Ogden promotes reusable containers over compostable or recyclable, since reusables are cheaper and created for convenience. Ogden says it’s easy to develop habits that are just as convenient and cheap while reducing waste, but that “humanity is naturally resistant to change.” Schuchardt said that it is up to the university whether a to-go option will remain available when state guidelines are lifted. Likely, he said, Bethel will revert to in-center dining in an effort to strengthen community. Sodexo is attempting to get better material for the environment than styrofoam, but it is very difficult. “We are in a period of uncertainty right now, and what we want to do is keep Bethel open,” Schuchardt said. “I think that’s the main thing.”

“Humanity is naturally resistant to change.” Elise Ogden, senior student co-leader of campus group Creation Restoration

Graphic by Josh Eller

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Worship in the age of COVID-19

With limited seating in Benson Great Hall, Chapel and Vespers this fall look a little different.

Landon Conrath plays piano during the 9 p.m. service of Vespers on Sunday, Sept. 20. Photo by Bryson Rosell

By Rachel Blood

tudents waited outside Benson Great Hall in a line winding down the CLC hallway, six feet apart, at 8 p.m. September 6. As they entered, a student worker at the entrance scanned each person’s cell phone screen. She was looking for their virtual ticket, something Vespers services at Bethel have never used before. COVID-19 brought change not only to the academic aspect of Bethel, but also to worship. Chapel is now 30 minutes long instead of 45 on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, with an additional livestreaming option. This is partially because larger academic courses aiming to maintain social distancing now take place in spacious areas like the Great Hall and the Underground. “I will always advocate for our community to come together to worship during chapel,” said campus pastor Laurel Bunker. “It is not the only way nor the only space where we can worship. However, taking the time to worship and hear the word as Christians helps us to grow in our faith, heal from brokenness, address challenging issues from a biblical perspective, and to be refreshed.” Vespers now lasts 30 minutes instead of an hour. At the beginning of the semester, students were required to reserve tickets online for one of four identical Sunday night services. Following the September 13 Vespers services, the need for ticket reservations was eliminated along with the 7 p.m. service. Assistant Campus Pastor Jason Steffenhagen commented on the change, saying the staff wanted to eliminate barriers that could keep a student from attending Vespers. Due to available seats at services so far, attendance policy is now first come first serve. Services remain free of charge and are open to Bethel students, faculty and staff at 8, 9 and 10 p.m. The 10

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p.m. service will be livestreamed through Facebook. Vespers rehearsals occur in the Lakeside Center chapel, where social distancing is possible. Everyone in the band except for the vocalists wear masks during these rehearsals. According to junior Vespers worship team leader Kayla Brunner, multiple Vespers leaders tested positive for COVID-19, causing the rest of the eight leaders to be quarantined due to exposure from training. But Vespers goes on. Brunner said her favorite aspect of past Vespers has been the community and fellowship that is created during worship

Brunner said that despite the pandemic making it difficult to achieve that same feeling of community, COVID-19 has given worship a new perspective. “It’s still worship, just in a different light, and I think it is so important to recognize and practice all kinds of worship,” Brunner said. “We can still create a space with the intention of praising God together; it will just be more internal.” Bunker said she’s experienced the Lord in unique ways during the pandemic, including seeing increased ingenuity, creativity, and generosity in the Bethel community. In March, her pastoral team started posting devotions online for the community. Since then, they’ve looked for ways to use live and online opportunities to encourage the community. Matthew Runion, Associate Dean of Christian Formation, works closely with Bunker and Steffenhagen to prioritize Bethel’s Christian focus. “In these difficult times of high anxiety, I believe God wants us to draw near – to each other and to God,” Runion said. “Ultimately, God wants us to know Him and rely on His loving abundance regardless of our circumstances. Communal worship is one of the places we can seek that reliance as well as small groups, personal prayer and sacrificial service to others.” While Brunner anticipates difficulty leading socially distanced worship this year, her goal to reach everyone in the congregation hasn’t changed. “It’s a new challenge, especially with the livestream option that we now have. But I think we are all up for the challenge,” Brunner said. “We are all a part of United Ministries for the purpose of creating a space of worship and reflection, and that is what we plan to do for anyone who chooses to join in person or online.” Bunker hopes worship will return to normal in the future. Steffenhagen has been working with a team monitoring directives and opportunities through the Minnesota Department of Health. Bunker suspects that Bethel will be back to worshipping soon. Until then, she encourages the campus to do everything possible to worship God.

“The pandemic has not changed my desire or commitment to be a pastor. Nothing ever will.” LAUREL BUNKER, ASSOCIATE VICE PRESIDENT, CHRISTIAN FORMATION AND CHURCH RELATIONS

“Hearing the collective voices of your peers is truly breathtaking, and stepping into the reason behind it is even better,” Brunner said. “It’s amazing to know that we are there to worship God together, whether it’s on stage or in the back row of the balcony. We are all here for one reason and with one goal in mind.” Bunker said that while being together for worship and God’s word is a joy and a blessing, she’s heard from many people who have found livestreaming to be beneficial. She’s encouraged if people are tuning in, no matter where they are. Because of the pandemic, congregational singing is not permitted in the Great Hall for the time being. “At Bethel we love to worship together,” Bunker said. “Last week, when we had the worship band up on Friday, even though we were not all singing out loud, it was beautiful. So happy to be back together. Preaching is different, but I still see faces in front of me, so I’m doing all right.”

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Laurel Bunker Associate VP of Christian Formation Church Relations and member of the President’s Executive Leadership Team Primary chapel preacher

Matt Runion Associate Dean of Christian Formations and Church Relations Leads missions and discipleship ministries on campus while providing care and community for Missionary Kids, Third Culture Kids, and International Students.

Jason Steffenhagen Assistant Campus Pastor Head of discipleship initiatives across campus. His passion is to help students become fully committed disciples of Christ by taking the journey alongside them.

Not just the cheering crowds The Minnesota Intercollegiate Athletic Conference announced the postponement of all competition until January 2021, but Bethel University athletes are still finding ways to cultivate team spirit through socially distanced workouts, one-on-one drills and elbow bumps in place of high fives. Junior track and field athlete Grace Perround and sophomore volleyball player Emily Rossing share how they’re adapting to the challenges COVID-19 has posed to college sports.

Opinion

By contributing writer Emily Rossing

F space.

un fact of the day: Volleyball has the highest density of people per square footage of playable space in all sports. Thirty feet wide and 30 feet long. Six players need to fit in that

That geometry means practices right now look like a lot of individual skills work, one-on-one drills and gasping for breath inside masks. None of us like the restrictions, but we know that they’re the only way we get to play right now. And I’ll just about do anything for the chance to play again. When COVID-19 sent us home last spring, I remember thinking, ‘If we can just make it to volleyball season, I’ll be OK.’

So when I heard we wouldn’t be competing this year, I was crushed. But the situation has made me examine why I miss the sport so much, and what I’ve found is it’s not just the cheering crowds or the rush I get after a monster kill. It’s really getting dinner with all my teammates after a long practice, good conversations on three-hour van rides to Duluth at 7 a.m. on a Saturday and busting out outrageous dance moves in the locker room right before a home game. Our team had our first meeting in The Underground on the first day of classes – masks on and desks distanced – but none of that mattered. I was in a room with all of my teammates. Seeing us gathered again was a moment I’d been looking forward to for nearly six months.

As soon as I walked in, I was greeted with a chorus of “Em!” from several different girls, who I then waved aggressively to in place of hugging them. “I can’t believe we’re finally back,” I said to Kelsie Sealock, a teammate of mine from both high school and now at Bethel. “Me either,” she said. “But I’m so pumped that we are! Look at everyone!” That’s a true testament to our team. I don’t think a single one of us was more excited walking into the gym on the first day of practice than we were walking into that room. Yes, it’s very strange to practice with only seven people on the court at a time instead of 12, and even stranger that I can only see half of their faces, but I’m just grateful I can see them at all. In the moments when I feel like one of my precious four years of college athletics was snatched away, I think back to the seniors who cried last year after we lost to St. Ben’s, ending our season and their careers. They always said the years go so fast, that we should really try to be present in every moment. I am constantly reminded that being here at Bethel is a gift – one I will never take for granted. It’s still hard to reconcile the loss of our normal fall season, but I’ve come to terms with it. It sucks that we can’t play, but it doesn’t do any good to the team to sulk in that. Hopefully, we’ll get to playing in the spring. One big thing we push on the team is the idea of being resilient in adversity. If there ever were a time to practice that, the time is now. I accept the challenge.

Photo by Emma Gottschalk

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CHECK OUT THE ONLINE OPTIONS NEW TO DINING SERVICES C-Store Now offering more than 75 items including: - household goods - dry, refrigerated, and frozen grocery items - sweet and salty snacks Scan or visit: https://dining.bethel.edu/store Order anytime, Pick up from 3900 Grill! Pick-up times available: Monday - Thursday: 3 pm - 8:00 pm Sunday: 4 pm - 8 pm

Order your favorite coffee, smoothie, snack, or entree and have it ready when you arrive! Royal Grounds

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Scan or visit: https://dining.bethel.edu/royal-grounds

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Online ordering available: Monday-Thursday: 7:30 am - 10:45 pm Friday: 7:30 am - 8:15 pm Available during chapel!

Online ordering available: Full Menu Monday-Thursday: 10:30 am - 2:45 pm Friday: 10:30 am - 2:15 pm Available during chapel! Limited Evening Grill Menu Monday-Thursday: 2:45 pm - 7:30 pm

Breakfast Sandwiches available weekdays until 12 pm Pizza and Hot Subs available weekdays after 7 pm SEPT. 2020

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Flex and Dine Dollars are currently the only accepted form of payment for online orders. If you would like to pay with a credit card, please visit us in person.

Six feet and one weight rack apart Opinion

By contributing writer Grace Perround

my teammates more than the competition itself. In past years, 4:15 p.m. indicated practice time, my treasured escape for the day. My one obligation that offered a space to ditch stress, anxiety and all responsibility in the hall.

We’ve lost the intimacy of four people to a rack; no longer able to spill our stories from the day or laugh with each other on failed max weight attempts. As much as I crave the endorphin rush from running track and field, I often cherish the relationships with

Now, stepping into the gym means temperature checks, wellness evaluations, and strict mask policies. Practice sizes have been reduced to pods of 25 athletes outside and 10 indoor. Sprint workouts were once huddled workouts on the track but have now become a socially distanced activity. Each lift in the wellness center is followed by a harsh disinfectant scrub on the equipment. High fives have turned into a COVIDcovid-conscious elbow tap. My sweet escape is now no less re-

lla Eliason and I resorted to shouting through our masks in order to communicate in the weightroom on a humid Tuesday afternoon. “How many bench reps do we have?” I yell. “Five I think!” she responds, six feet and one rack over. I nod my head and sigh behind my blue disposable mask, which has now embodied a dual role of blocking viruses and absorbing the heaps of sweat on my face.

moved from the pandemic outside. I understand the necessity of it all; I want to keep my teammates safe and I am grateful we even have the opportunity to practice. However, the disinfectants and distancing succeed in preventing not only COVID-19 but also interfere with the familiarity and close connection with teammates. The weight room has begun to feel a little heavier, the fragile chances of having a season at all in the hands of MIAC officials and Governor Tim Walz. Amid the postponing of seasons and modified practices due to COVID-19, an ever-important awakening is happening in national sports – Americans are recognizing more of the social and systemic injustices embedded in the fabric of our country, with no exception to sportssports no exception. Professional athletes are refusing to compete and using their massive platforms to demand change. But what does this racial justice awakening look like at a much smaller level, specifically Division III athletics? While Division I athletes and pros are under the public microscope, my teammates and I hold much less public attention. But although we don’t hold the same influence as higher level athletes, we bear the same responsibilities: The duty to dissect our own thoughts and actions, educate ourselves, and speak up for our Black, Indigenous and people of color teammates and competitors. Taking on these responsibilities has led to difficult conversations and realizations about the privileges I have benefited from during athletics. These new regulations and awakenings have dramatically changed athletics as we once knew it. But we continue to bench and shout, six feet and one rack apart.

Photo by Vanna Contreras 28

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In defense of bricks

This is either a column about Styrofoam or a column about post-empiricism. I’m not sure which. Also, I am pleasantly surprised that my editors let me keep the third paragraph as it has absolutely no relevance to the overall flow of this story.

Opinion

By Lynsey Zeng

uring a recent visit to an art museum, an unsuspecting patron brushed up against what may only be described as an unceremonious heap of Styrofoam bricks. They didn’t seem to mind half as much as the security guard who was so flustered that she called for reinforcement. It was at that moment that I realized the bricks were part of the gallery’s collection. Don’t get me wrong – they were, I am certain, quintessential bricks of the Styrofoam variety, but I failed to understand their imminent peril and why it required the attendance of four security guards and a museum curator. Perhaps the artist’s erudition extended well beyond my comprehension. It is possible that he or she meant to evoke a conflict between the assumed functionality of the brick and the fragility of its composition. Or maybe…..never mind. That’s all I’ve got. But, nonetheless, the point remains that somewhere within Minneapolis there is a museum with approximately half a pound of brick-shaped polystyrene. While we’re on the subject of synthetic polymers, I am reminded of a very nice, if overly solicitous, young man who once convinced me to sign a petition for the eradication of polystyrene. I forget the details, but I do believe his argument involved several bodies of water and the Trump administration. Anyways, he was very thorough, I was running late for a class, and, at the time, I’m not certain that I knew what polystyrene was. If he had told me it was a fundamental component of the brick, I might have declined.

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Graphic by Josh Eller

But let us desist from the discussion of aromatic hydrocarbons for the time being and turn instead to the consideration that there is a peculiar trend in modern art which parallels an equally peculiar trend in modern society. That is, that we have grown accustomed to projecting our vision of reality on and over painted canvases. Enraptured by our personal truths, we frequently allow our interior notions to completely inform our exterior perceptions so that our minds exist apart from our bodies and our conceptions of God apart from his story and our sense of autonomy apart from responsibility. And thus, we live in a sort of post-empirical world where the highest reality exists in our minds and words and any affront to correct speech is treated like an attack against our physical selves. The fact of the matter is that we have spent so much time gazing at the atom, that weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve forgotten it is modeled after the universe. And thus, we may look for the contradiction that something strong may be made up of something fragile and imbue the lowly Styrofoam brick with a deeper meaning than it deserves whilst never noticing the bricks which hold up the museum roof.

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Conversations with Ross Allen How Bethel is being run under the direction of its new president By: Laura Osterlund

What did the selection process look like for you? When I first got the inquiry, I didn’t take it seriously, and that was last September when I was first contacted. God really was working on my heart during that process and helping me to realize and understand that this is where He was leading. I left Medtronic to seek out a second career and did quite a bit of work around what that calling is. I was getting more and more involved in higher ed, as you may have seen in my background, and that September to November really [made me realize what] God was saying: “This is your calling, Ross, pursuing higher ed is calling, this preparation that I’ve done with you is clearly fitted for now suited for this.”

What will your main goal be? My main goal is: to continue this great heritage or transforming lives to make what we have available to more people and to do that in the way that Bethel has continued to over such a long period of time.

Ross Allen poses next to his motorcycle, positioned in the presidential parking spot. Photo by Vanna Contreras

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At Azusa Pacific, you transformed their budget deficit into a surplus. How do you plan on adjusting the budget issues at Bethel? Jay (Barnes) involved me early on, even though I technically hadn’t yet started. One thing I would say is that Bethel actually is really well positioned for this transformation so I applaud Jay and the team for

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“Bethel shaped me and caused me to make my faith my own. It’s a gift to be back, it’s an honor and a privilege.” ROSS ALLEN

stepping into that and not “pushing the can down the street” and waiting for the new president. One of the phrases that I heard that I want us to pick up is that we’re “fiscal stewards.” We are all stewards of your funds and we need to take that with the same mentality that we are of the gifts that God has given us. I think that’s an approach the university’s had, but I want to really embed that we all think of that. I think it just depicts so well what we are.

How do you plan on leading Bethel spiritually? I’ve had to sort through this whole idea that it’s not me, God gave me whatever gifts or capabilities that I have. Continue to be grounded and continue to take time to ensure that I am spiritually founded. I’ve had the benefit of wonderful spiritual mentors over the years and I am going to be very disciplined about that. Being that myself, how do we ensure that we do that across the university? Obviously there’s a variety of forms and mechanisms, but I’ve talked with the cabinet already about how we hold ourselves spiritually accountable. That’s so critical in a leader of a Christian university. A lot of prayer and a lot of mentorship and accountability.

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How have you adjusted to your new position? It’s been fine. Still, some things need to be sorted out, like how to create time with students. We can take advantage of that while we can. So that’s one adjustment; getting to meet new people. I use Zoom fairly actively to get introduced to groups and spend some time that way. Last Saturday I went into a class and sat in with some students, to see what that whole Zoom [and] in-person class was like.

What’s been the most challenging part? I was pretty committed to doing everything we could to come back, but it wasn’t without its challenges. We’ve provided resources for the faculty, there are TAs available in classes and we’ve tried to create all the support to make it effective for faculty and students to come back.

Photo by Emma Gottschalk

The safest thing would have been to tell you all to stay in your parents’ basements, but to me, that’s safety on the virus side, but it’s not safety overall. I realize that puts a lot of stress on everybody. Those decisions have probably been the most difficult on how we can do this from a thoughtful and disciplined way.

How do you plan to make Bethel a safe place for students of color? It just breaks my heart to read the Instagram posts @ blackatbethel or to talk to students. I’ve got a personal set of experiences that God has given me. We lived in Memphis for two years and we’re good friends with people who don’t look like me. God has given us those experiences to have a heart of compassion. I’m absolutely convinced that the kingdom of God and the revelation that God describes is a diverse kingdom and how we step into that honors him from an organizational standpoint, scripture wise and organizationally wise. Organizations are better with diversity. Bethel is great in so many ways, but we have a ways to go. There’s some action plans that we’re still working through. First we’ve got to agree that this is fundamental to us and continue to be even more of a demonstration of Jesus and the Trinity. Questions 1-4 were asked in March 2020. Additional reporting done by Will Jacott

Photo by Emma Gottschalk SEPT. 2020

Bethel students have to speak a little louder to hear each other across a six-foot divide and face coverings, but masks can also share the style and beliefs of each student. By Clarion Staff

“I wear it to bring awareness and to educate. We are in a bubble, but we still need to help people outside of it. People forget life happens outside the gates.” - Phil Norris | Nursing “My grandmother made [my mask] for me at the start of the pandemic. Family is meaningful to me and it reminds me of that.” - Ben Martin | Media Production

“I care about my background. It’s a reminder of where I come from, [Nigeria]” - Ayomide Adesanya | Journalism & Pre-Nursing

“My mask shows that I’m proud to be an American and live in this awesome country.” - Russell Nelson | Communications

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