As I find myself with one semester remaining at Iowa State and the yawning chasm of the “real world” in front of me, I take comfort in the fact that I have such a practical degree. Yes, English. Truly, is there anything more fulfilling than to have a masterful grasp of the intricacies of our language? I can see it now, a causal soiree with some young bright things, discussing the proper usage of the words “who” and “whom,” the entire group held captive by my eloquent lecture, punctuated with bon mots and quips.

Alas, somehow I doubt my future will hold many soirees focused on English grammar; I doubt my future holds many soirees at all. As Clarence Darrow once said, “Even if you do learn to speak correct English, whom are you going to speak it to?”

English as a discipline is regarded with a certain amount of confusion as to its purpose, if my parents are any indication of the status quo. My father is under the impression that a degree in English is just about as useful as a degree in breathing.

As a nation we seem disinclined to place value on loquaciousness, mistrusting those who would obfuscate and pontificate what could just as easily be said with small words. Hell, if President Bush is any indication, we have a complete disregard for the basic rules of English grammar as shown in a speech given in New York in 2004 in which he said, “this is historic times.”

As if a nationwide president-led anti-intellectualism movement wasn’t enough of an obstacle for English students, those of us at Iowa State are daily subjected to the architectural nightmare that is Ross Hall. This attempt at institutionalizing creativity was apparently built using the combined ideologies of Ivo Shandor and Project Ragna Rok. I challenge anyone to find a more stifling atmosphere for intellectual debate and discussion. Looking more like a prison, the formerly riot-proof Ross Hall stands monolithically, casting its blocky shadow over the eastern half of campus. If we are to trust the words of the architectural giant Louis Sullivan, that “form follows function,” then the seeming function of Ross Hall is to standardize and sanitize thought, removing all traces of creativity and aesthetics.

In spite of the social and architectural forces aligned against the community of English majors, there is hope. Sketch, a student-run literary journal, is in its 70th year of publication and serves the entire ISU community. Sketch is designed to be an egalitarian organization open to all majors and both graduates and undergraduates.

Sketch’s greatest strength is its campus-wide inclusiveness, with an editorial board comprised of students from the various disciplines. Any student can submit to Sketch and the more non-English majors that submit, the better the journal will be. It is an open secret English is not exactly a powerhouse at the Iowa State University of Science and Technology. This does not mean there are not some bright and inspirational people working tirelessly in the English department, but it would be a mistake to think that scientists and technologists don’t have literary aspirations as well.

While Sketch is long lived, the explosion of the digital age has shaken the foundations of all printed media, and Sketch is looking toward the brave new world of the Internet as well. Sketch has stepped into the future this semester by accepting only digital submissions for the first time, as well as having the entire history of the journal digitized and available through the library’s Web site.

In a field that is routinely overly academic and self-referential, Sketch represents the best aspects of literature – the classless nature of it. After all, if literature is humankind’s attempt at encapsulating and explaining our existence, don’t we all have something to contribute? Despite the fact that I feel as if Dante’s inscription above the gates of Hell, “Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate” – “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here” should be carved above the doors leading into Ross, Sketch is representative of what I see as the best parts of English. As anyone who has ever look at one of my columns probably knows, I am fond of words, and believe fully in their power.

Perhaps James Michener said it best: “I love writing. I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions.” There is great potential in what Sketch represents, especially in this digital age. It serves as a monument on which people may write their words which will last through the ages.

&#8212 Quincy Miller is a senior in English from Altoona.