Editor's note: All opinions, columns and letters reflect the views of the individual writer and not necessarily those of the IDS or its staffers.
Spruce Hall, a residence hall tucked in the southeast corner of campus, is an odd setting for a philosophy class.
It's an altogether terrible spot to hunker down during a thundering hailstorm, especially when the place you wish to be, Franklin Hall, is nearly a mile-long trek across campus.
As I weathered the storm last Monday writing about Mike Woodchip, a small, figurative sun shone through very real clouds. A name lit up on my phone: Jimmy Rush.
“The fish are back,” Jimmy said. “Officially.”
My friends! Blue Gill, Large Mouth, Pike, I awaited you so long. Did they keep you hydrated?
Another booming clap of thunder disrupted my thoughts.
Of all the days, Indiana University restored Showalter Fountain’s fish to their rightful place just before a thunderstorm that brought flooding, then a tornado warning, to town. My previous theories — cold weather, etc. — as to why IU had so tarried in returning campus’s favorite aquatic creatures were quickly put to rest. Evidently, it takes more than an extreme weather event to stop the dedicated grounds workers at IU.
But it does take quite some time, doesn’t it?
I don’t like harping on things. But, perhaps to a fault, I’m not yet ready to shake the dust off my feet. I am, after all, an opinion columnist, and the school brought this upon itself.
“Soon,” IU said to allay concerns that followed the fish’s removal.
But “soon,” when I tell my editors that I will "soon" submit a column, is not 50 days. In no world is it 103 days. That’s how long it took IU to restore the fish between their Jan. 14 removal and April 27 return.
The wait would have been fine, if the university had gone on to state that there would be one. Some students could have planned their graduation photos around that information. But the university did not.
The Kelley School of Business, I’m sure, teaches that strong communication is the cornerstone of a strong corporate culture. Then again, I'm a philosophy major.
The fish, though, swim only in the shallow end of IU’s communication shortcomings.
I recently read an Indiana Daily Student story on former IU quarterback Brendan Sorsby’s ongoing NCAA investigation, his leave of absence from Texas Tech’s roster and his entry into a treatment program for gambling addiction. When asked for comment, IU Athletics said, “Today, we were made aware of a media report regarding a student-athlete who last competed for our football program in 2023. Indiana University has no further comment at this time.”
Compare that to what Texas Tech’s coach, Joey McGuire, said.
“We love Brendan and support his decision to seek professional help,” McGuire told ESPN. “Taking this step requires courage, and our primary focus is on him as a person. Our program is behind Brendan as he prioritizes his health.”
Probably few current employees of IU Athletics knew Sorsby personally. Presumably, fewer, if any, worked with the then-19-year-old college student as closely as Coach McGuire now has. But it’s hardly a tall order to produce a statement more human than “no further comment” for not only a former IU student, but a former athlete who dedicated his time to your program.
And I can’t imagine it would have taken more than a minute to announce that the return of Showalter’s fish will be delayed.
Neither case heralds the world’s end. But that’s kind of the point. As I argued in my previous column, the small things matter. The big things — National Championships, student protests — happen so rarely, your institutional communication can’t be graded on them. Instead, it’s the small things that are the most decisive in signaling an administration's commitment to students.
IU has been a great communicator before. Former university president and chancellor Herman B Wells toured cities across Indiana and the United States to fundraise and spread IU’s message. In all, Wells traveled several million miles over his career. In his first year, then as the university’s acting president, he traveled over 33,000 miles to interview 190 prospective faculty. That's as human as it comes, not to mention consistent.
Wells’ campaigns were heroic efforts and time commitments. I’m not demanding that IU administrators go as far as he did, but I do call upon them to work toward communication that’s a little more consistent, more clear, more human.
Cicero, after all, should be somewhere in Wells Library.
Just as the fish are now somewhere back on campus.
Eric Cannon (he/him) is a sophomore studying philosophy and political science and currently serves as a member of IU Student Government. You can cement his legacy at IU by calling Showalter's fish Blue Gill, Large Mouth and Pike.
