USD Magazine, Winter 2001

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UPCOMING PERFORMANCES:

February 25 MOSTLYMOZART This annual benefit concert for the Amadeus Music Fund features USD Professor Emeritus Henry Kolar and friends. 3 p.m., French Parlor. March 3-10 SIX CHARACTERS IN SEARCH OF AN AUTHOR by Luigi Pirandello Six peoplewalk into atheater troupe look– ing for an author to dramatize their sordid stories in this play within a play. Performed by master of fine arts students. Sacred Heart Hall. For information on times, call (619) 231-1941, ext. 2131. April 1 REQUIEM This masterpiece is performed by the USD Choral Scholars and the Los Angeles Baroque Orchestra on period instruments, directed by OndineYoung. 7:30 p.m., The lmmaculata. April 4-8 OUR COUNTRY'S GOOD by TTmberlake Wertenbacher A young British officer organizes a cast of convicts in an 18th century Australian penal colony to put on a play. Mature themes. 8 p.m., Shiley Theatre. $8 general admis– sion, $5 seniors and students. April 24-26 SOUND IMPRESSIONS Ill· MEDIEVAL SPIRITUALITY An interdisciplinary festival exploring the spiritual, philosophical, scientific and artis– tic world of the 12th century composer Hildegard van Bingen, directed by Marianne Pfau. Various times and locations. May 9-12 ACTORSANONYMOUS PRESENTS One-act plays produced, directed and per– formed by advanced theater arts students. Various times and locations. For general information on events, call the Fine Arts Office at (619) 260-2280 or go to www.acusd.edu. For tickets for select events, call the Box Office, 260-4600, ext. 4901, one week prior to the event.

WINTER 2 001 v olume 15 • no. 2 USD MAGAZINE features Empowering Mexico's Women 7 by Krystn Shrieve

USD Alumni Magazine http://alumni.acusd.edu/usdmagazine

EDITOR Susan Herold e-mail: Sherold@acusd.edu C ONTRIBUTING ED I TORS Michael R. Haskins Timothy McKernan Krysrn Shrieve DESIGN & PRODUCTION Warner Design Associates, Inc. PHOTOGRAPHERS Pablo Mason Rodney Nakamoto Gary Payne '86 ADV I SORY BOARD Arian E. Collins '87 Laura Hale '92 Thomas Scharf'72 (M.A. '73) Prof. David Sullivan PRESIDENT Alice Bourke Hayes VICE PRESIDENT FOR UN I VERSITY RELAT IONS John G. McNamara USD Magazine is published quarterly by the University ofSan Diego for its alumni, parents and friends. Editorial offices: USD M11g11zi11e, Publ ications Office, University ofSan Diego, 5998 Alcala Park, San Diego, CA92 110-2492. Third-class postage paid acSan Diego, CA 92 110. USO phone num– ber (6 19) 260-4600; emergency securicy (6 19) 260-2222; disaster (6 19) 260-4534. Postmaster: Send address changes to USD M11g11zi11e, Publications Office, University of San Diego, 5998 Alcala Park, San Diego, CA 92110-2492. University of San Diego

Elsa Arnaiz wins this year's Bishop Buddy Award for her commitment to the rights ofT ijuana's women and children.

Patriot Games

8 by Michael R. Haskins

Ir's not boot camp, bur it's not quite ordinary college life, either. Students in the NROTC program give up a few indulgences, but they view their hard work as a privilege, not sacrifice.

departments

Alcala Almanac 4 Soccer teams advance to NCM tourney ... Torero Stadium could undergo facelift ... Give us your 50 T hings To Do Before Graduating USD ... By the Numbers:

Hidden Assets 12 by Susan Herold and Timothy McKernan

Finding financial aid requires some digging, bur it's the people behind rhe scholarships, the students who persevere and the families that support them who are the real discoveries.

Freshman Class ... Ask the Experts: Carbon Dating ... Business professor hits campaign trail.

Alumni Gallery 2I Mary (Williams) Schaller '65 is the voice behmd Harlequin romance novels ... The Rev. Mark Campbell '79 calls on a higher law ... David Saldivar '86, '89 fought discrimination in his hometown.

The Preacher, The Teacher 18 by Michael R. Haskins

Archbishop John Quinn, who promotes greater Christian unity in the Catholic Church, is the first to hold USD's new chair in Catholic systematic theology.

Calendar

Event Management Courses ... All Fairh Service ... Walk on Water Competition ... WCC Basketball Tournament at Jenny Craig Pavilion ... School of Nursi ng Lectureship ... Public Interest Law Summit featuring Ralph Nader.

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GOOOOAL:

USD's Soccer Teams Advance to NCAA Tourneys U SD women's and men's soccer teams made a mark on the nation– al soccer scene this year, with both reaching NCAA postseason play and the Torero men ranking third in the nation. The men's team won the West Coast Conference tide fo r the third straight year and made it ro the second round of the NCAA Tournament before getting knocked out at home, 3-0, by Creighton University. The men defeated UCLA, 1-0, in the fi rst round, ending the year with a 16-2-2 record. The women's team advanced to the postseason for the second straight year, losing its fi rst round match to USC, 2-1 , and fi nishing the year with a 13-7 record. USO men's coach Seamus McFadden was named WCC Coach of the Year fo r

the seventh time, and sophomore forward Ryan Coiner led the team with 17 goals and 42 points, earning him co-WCC Player of the Year. T he Torero women had eight players selected for All– WCC honors, including First Team members junior Stephanie Barnier and freshman Alexis O beji.

Pro Women's Soccer Scores at USD Torero Stadium could undergo major facelift

called for under the university's master plan for facilities. Under the first phase, which is hoped to be completed by April, the franchise would install new turf, a new scoreboard, upgrade the sound system and lighting,and install modular seat– ing along the south side of the field , bringing the capacity to between 6,000 and 7,000. The second phase calls for widening the 65-yard field (the minimum standard for soccer fields) to between 72 and 75 yards and building out the stadium. If the plan comes to fruition, athletic director Tom Iannacone says USD would benefit not only from having its stadium upgraded without having to foot the bill, but also by gaining more national exposure. A slate of games is scheduled for broad– cast on the TNT network, and San Diego Cox Channel 4 is

wants to make Torero Stadium its home for the league's inaugu– ral season, which begins in April and runs through August. The league includes such notable players as Julie Foudy, Joy Fawcett and Shannon MacMillan. "Torero Stadium is the best facility by far from a game-day situation," says Kevin Crow,gen– eral manager of the Spirit. "The atmosphere we're trying to achieve is nice and cozy, and from that standpoint, it's the best facility." Franchise owner Cox Communications has pledged $2.S million to improve the sta– dium, which is carved into a hill– side and seats about 3,000, all on one sideline.While terms are still being negotiated, initial plans call for work to be done over the first two seasons, with an ultimate goal of an entirely new 8,000-seat stadium as

expected to televise all other Spirit home and away games. The success of the league ultimately hinges on fan support of professional women 's soccer, which Crow and league officials are banking on after the USA Women's Team won the 1999 World Cup in a shootout over China, creating such media stars as Mia Hamm and Brandi Chastain. "We're not trying to fill 50,000-seat arenas," Crow says, "but to have a great experience for fans ."

U SD's Torero Stadium may get a host of free improve– ments - from new turf to an improved sound system to thousands more seats - under a plan to share the field during the football off-season with a new women's professional soc– cer team. The San Diego Spirit, one of eight teams in the new Women's United Soccer Association ,

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N ot being above "borrowing" a good idea (especially when we really, really like it), your vaunted staff at USD Magazine, along with the Alumni Board, is taking a page out of Stanford Magazine, which recently polled its alumni to develop a list of the "101 Things You Must Do Before Graduating." Since we're not as large as that university to the north, we've decided to pare the list down a bit, to say, "50 Things You Must Do Before Graduating USD." Already, your hardwork– ing alumni board members have contributed some of their own suggestions, including: Be on the Orientation Team. Renda Quinn '86 Take a class from Father O'Leary. Kevin Dooley '93, Kristin Skow '94 Go to the top of Maher Hall to watch a sunset. Ann Maulhardt '95 See the nearly naked "Thong Man" rollerblade along Mission Beach. No one admitted to this one, but we really, really like it.

To aid us in this completely unscientific poll (let's get this out front - there will be no recounts of the ballots), please send us your must-dos before graduating, be they serious, academic, generic or just plain silly. We would like you to include your name, class year, and if you'd like, an accompanying personal story about your USD must-dos. The highly trained USD Magazine ballot counting staff will sort through your entries and print the best ones (remember, your name and story will be printed if we choose it, so watch the language) in the Spring issue of the magazine. So send your entry ASAP to: classnoces@acusd.edu, with "50 Things" in the header. Or mail it to: Editor, USD Magazine, 5998 Alcala Park, San Diego, CA 92110. We gotta run. Time to catch the Thong Man.

Q I often hear the age of a given item can be deter– mined by a process called "car– bon dating." What exactly is carbon dating, and is it accu– rate? A Carbon-14 is a radioactive iso– tope that reacts with oxygen to form carbon dioxide.The carbon dioxide is used by plants during photosynthesis. Animals eat the plants, and thus, all living things have trace amounts of carbon-14 in them. While we're alive, the amount of carbon- 14 we ingest breaks down at a very spe– cific rate.After an organism dies the dis– integrations continue. Thus, the amount of carbon-14 slowly decreases during the time following the death of a living thing. For items made of plant fibers, such as the Shroud of Turin, carbon dating indi– cates how long it has been since the plant was harvested. It takes 5,730 years for one-half of the carbon-14 isotope to disintegrate (the half-life), another 5,730 years for half of that to disintegrate, and so forth .Thus, by measuring the number of disintegrations, the age of a formerly living object can be estimated. The accuracy of the informa– tion can vary from a few decades to a few centuries. After about six half-lives - around 35,000 years - the amount of carbon remaining is too small to measure accurately, so other dating methods must be used for older objects.

USO by the Numbers

Freshman Class Profile 68,000 Inquiries made by prospective students 6,780 Applications received for freshman admission

40 Percentage increase of applications received from four years ago 4 9 .6 Percentage of applicants offered a place in freshman class 3.52 Average high school GPA of a freshman in 1997 3.73 Average high school GPA of a freshman today 26 Percentage of this year's freshman class with high school GPA of 4.0 higher 4 Percentqe of this yearj~h~ class with nigh Jthool itt.l

Thomas Herrinton - chemistry department chairman

If you have a question you'd like posed to our faculty, please e-mail timothym@acusd.edu or send it to USD Magazine, 5998 Alcala Park, San Diego, CA, 921 I0. Questions and answers are for informational purposes only and may be edited.

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An Unlikely Candidate Business professor takes on underdog role in campaign

"There is nothing glamorous about it," Craig says of fund raising. "There is a lot of rejec– tion, because people perceive donating to an underdog as wasting money. I was literally begging people, and Duncan still had a three-to-one money advantage over us ." As Hunter aired television commercials and peppered con– stituents with direct mail, the Barkacs campaign struggled to pay the bills. By the rime office space rent and salaries of a two– person support staff were paid and direct-mail pieces were printed and sent, media advertis– ing was our of the question. On election day, Barkacs polled 54,090 votes, just under half of Hunter's total. Reflecting on rhe campaign in rhe days fol– lowing the election, disappoint– ed and visibly tired, Barkacs toyed with the question of whether he'd do it all again. "I can't imagine we could have worked any harder," he says. "But I'd consider running again. I still believe rhe issues matter, and I believe it matters who we elect. I still believe in public service."

For months on end, Craig and Linda began their days at 5 a. m. and worked until mid– night, standing at busy intersec– tions with signs during rush hour, stuffing envelopes, walking precincts and shaking hands at shopping malls. Campaign manager Chris Cook '2000, a former student of Craig's, had just returned from working abroad for Andersen Consulting when Craig asked him to join his ream. Cook, a registered Republican, says the campaign was the best learning experience of his life.

Professor Craig Barkacs (right) and his wife, Linda, met with President Bill Clinton last year when Clinton visited San Diego for a fund-raiser.

C raig Barkacs ran for a sear in the House of Represent– atives with the slogan "main– stream, not extreme." He might as well have added that he was swimming upstream. In November, Barkacs, a law school alumnus and School of Business professor, lost his bid for the 52nd congressional dis– trict in San Diego. Though he had cobbled together the sup– port of a bipartisan coalition of prominent San Diegans, Barkacs, a political unknown and Democrat, faced Duncan Hunter, an incumbent who for two decades rep resented one of the most Republican districts in Southern California. The race cost Barkacs and his wife, Linda, more chat $150,000 out of their own pocket, not including, as he points out, the income lost from virtually shut– ting down rhe law firm they operate together. And if he won, Barkacs would have had ro give up his tenure at USD.

At a rime when the public's negative perception of politicians is approaching Watergate-era pro– portions, why take such a risk? "I was an information tech– nologies consultant," Cook says. "I had to learn it from scratch. T hat was a challenge, bur noth- "It wasn't a matter of if, it was a matter of when." - Linda Barkacs on her husband's run for Congress .

"I have a burning desire to serve," he says. "Ir's literally a calling. Contrary to what some people say, I think it matters who represents you in govern– ment. I think it makes a big dif– ference, and I'm absolutely con– fident I could do a good job of it.)) Linda, a School of Law alum– na and adjunct professor at USD, says she knew before they were married 17 years ago that Craig would run for office. "It wasn't a matter of if," she says, "it was a matter of when. "

ing like working on a campaign. You have to be on your roes every single seco nd of every sin– gle day. Ir's exhausting." Perhaps the most daunting challenge the campaign faced was rhe necessary evil of fund raising against an opponent who could fall back on long-estab– lished relationships with donors and political action committees. Barkacs gathered a little more than $250,000, about a third of Hunter's total.

- Tim McKernan

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Empowering Mexico's Women Elsa Arnaiz wins Bishop Buddy Award for commitment to her native Tijuana

N ine years ago, Elsa Arnaiz visited the "red light" district in Tijuana and saw the children of prostitutes wandering the streets while their mothers slept. The image spurred the Tijuana native co improve life for women and children in her hometown and throughout Mexico. "There was no one with chem," Arnaiz recalls, "no one co give chem a warm breakfast. So I decided to help chem." She created Centros

my long dress. She was like a mother co all of us_ ,, In the early 1980s, Arnaiz coordinated two international conferences in Tijuana on women's issues chat accracced hundreds of women from throughout North, Central and South America. In the lace 1980s she direct– ed a performing arcs school called Casa de la Culcura, which opened the world of cheater to nearly 20,000 youngsters.

need chey know they can come co me. " Arnaiz is well known throughout che communiry as an advocate for women's rights in a country where men dominate the culture and economy, says childhood friend Julieta Lopez. "When she was younger she was very shy, she never said anything," Lopez says. "Bue people who knew her back then are amazed co see her speaking at meetings now. She's changed so much. She's couched so many lives, and when people see her they are always hugging her." Arnaiz says her ultimate hope is char che women and ch ildren she helps will become productive members of sociery. "Mexican women need to real ize their worth," Arnaiz says. "We are 52 percent of Mexico's popula– tion and we could have a lot of influence and use ic for the good of che communiry. "I grew up in Tijuana and chat's where I live," she says of her advocacy, "and I can't just stand there with my arms crossed and lee the world go by. "

Dias, a program run our of a house in Tijuana by nuns chat is open Saturdays so the children can study catechism and eat a meal. Arnaiz, who lives in Tijuana and owns a real estate development corpo– ration, says she always felt

"Every moment of her time is spent giving back to her people." - Professor Emeritus Sister Pat Shaffer on Elsa Arnaiz

"We started cheater workshops so children co uld learn about self esteem, children's rights and how to care for their bodies, minds and spirits," Arnaiz says. Her work with children and

obligated to give back to her communiry. In December she received the Bishop Charles Francis Buddy Award, given annually co recognize alumni contribu– tions co humanitarian causes. "Every moment of her rime is spent giving back to her people," says Professor Emeritus Sister Pac Shaffer who, along with Sister Virginia McMonagle, nomi– nated Arnaiz. "She's a very quiet person, a gencle person - but behind chat is a pow– erful drive to do so much with her life." The sisters met Arnaiz when, at 13, she began school at the Convene of the Sacred Heart in El Cajon. Three years lacer, she entered San Diego College for Women, lacer the Universiry of San Diego, where in 1965 she received her bachelor's degree. She returned co USD in 1980 co earn a master's in Spanish licerarure. "I feel my rime at USD was one of the better pares of my life," Arnaiz says. "I had many mentors. I still remember how on my prom night Sister Virginia McMonagle caught me how co walk with

- by Krystn Shrieve

women grew as she coordinated a support group char gives free medical, legal and psychiatric assistance co victims of rape and physical abuse in Tijuana. She also lobbied co change legisla– tion in Mexico so convicted rapists who previously served only six months in jail with bail of $500 instead receive a 12- year sentence without bail. "What I found was char young women who were victims of rape don't wane to go through the legal system because they are too ashamed, and 10 or 12 years lacer, they're still deal– ing with it," Arnaiz says. "Bue we give chem support, educa– tion, money. Anything they

Elsa Arnaiz accepts the Bishop Buddy Award during the Dec. 7 Alumni Mass in Founders Chapel.

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TRAINING THE TROOPS OF TOMORROW

IT'S NOT BOOT CAMP, BUT IT'S NOT QUITE ORDINARY

COLLEGE LIFE, EITHER. STUDENTS IN THE NROTC

PROGRAM GIVE UP A FEW INDULGENCES, BUT THEY

ly Michael R. HaJkinJ

VIEW THEIR HARD WORK AS PRIVILEGE, NOT SACRIFICE.

4:30 a.m., Tuesday. Pam Marshall struggles awake and fumbles blearily for the alarm clock. Dressing quickly in the semi-darkness, she tries not to disturb her slumbering room– mate, who has a good five hours to snooze before getting up for class. By 5:45 a.m, Marshall has double-checked every button and clasp of her uniform and falls into tight formation with the students who compose the San Diego battalion of the Naval Reserve Officers Training Corps, all of whom will someday be Navy or Marine officers. When all battalion mem– bers are accounted for, the troops break for their weekly exercise, usually a training lab

or lecture on military issues, while the rest of the campus sleeps. The once-a-week muster ends at 7:15 a.m., but Marshal l doesn't change clothes before heading to class. Like all NROTC officer candidates-or midshipmen, as they are known-Marshall wears her uni– form every Tuesday. She's a college student, but also a representative of the United Scares Navy. On Tuesdays, the uniforms make NROTC students stand out in a sea of jeans and sneakers. The rest of the week there are some subtle differences, but for the most part these students act a lot like their peers:

make grades, have some fun, maybe meet someone special, and, of course, figure out what they want to do with their lives. And like many of their fellow students, they've taken on something extra. In this case, it's the commitment to prepare physi– cally, mentally and morally to earn an offi– cer's commission in the Navy or Marine Corps. Just like college athletes or student government leaders, they do ir not because they have to, bur because to chem, it's meaningful. "Ask the NROTC students why they do it and you'll gee a couple dozen different answers," says Capt. Michael Simpson, the

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Ma,~ NROTC Jtule11fJ receive a fall JcMlarJkiy in exclta,zge for afour-year commitmmt to tke military.

unit's commanding officer, "but running through each one will be the ethic of service to one's country. They get support, struc– ture, training, guaranteed employment, financial assistance, a lot of benefits. But the sense of patriotism is there as well. " Leader1-In-Waiting Simpson's job- and the jobs of the six other NROTC instructors on campus, all of whom are active duty Naval officers- is to channel that service ethic into the leader– ship qualities the Navy and Marine Corps need in their officers. Pam Marshall is a good example. When she started looking at colleges, Marshall, a talented softball and volleyball player, hoped to land a sports scholarship and maybe some academic-based financial aid. She hadn't really considered the military; her only knowledge of the service was an uncle who served. Perhaps sensing leadership ability and a penchant for organization, a high school counselor suggested she look into a Navy or Air Force ROTC scholarship. Accepted for

social life, and that was difficult at times." A unique aspect of the Navy program is the first-year "free look," after which stu– dents can opt out with no further obliga– tion. Marshall had her doubts, but decided to stay put. "I rook a hard look at what I wanted, and decided it was worth coming back." It's hard to believe now that Marshall once considered dropping out. She's become an Alpha 1 Platoon officer and joined Semper Fi, a club that meets for physical training and conducts its own classes on tac– tics, weapons and navigation techniques. She's considering a switch to the program's Marine Corps option, a rougher regimen for students who want to become Marine offi– cers, because she admires the way Marines take on the hardest military assignments. Oh, and she also volunteers as a tutor at San Diego's juvenile hall. In short, she's become a leader. "I think the biggest change is in my be– havior," she says. ''I've got a lot more tact and patience now. Even my parents noticed that I don't egg my sister into arguments anymore. "

both, the Navy program was a better deal for Marshall: a full four-year scholarship (the Air Force only pays for three years) at one of 57 NROTC universities and advanced technical training. In exchange, she promised four years to the Navy. Marshall, like most high school students accepted into the program, got her first– choice school, USD. T hat first year, Marshal l had doubts about her decision. She had joined the bat– talion's Alpha 1 Platoon, a highly disciplined unit that represents the battalion at drill competitions and practices twice a week, perfecting marching, movements and com– mands. T he extra work was wearing on her. She felt overwhelmed by the academic requirements-a Naval Science minor as well as courses in physics and calculus– and the discipline with which students are expected to conduct themselves. She thought seriously about quitting. "Un til my first semester, I didn't know what military life was really like," she says. "The time I put into NROTC affected everything from my class schedule to my

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WINTER 200 l

Dting Things Differently The NROTC program runs like a military operation, with students taking charge of tasks like supply, budget and operations. Because of the program's bigger-than-average scope-started in 1982 and headquartered at USD, it's actually a partnership composed of 250 students from USD, San Diego Scare, Point Loma Nazarene University, Cal State San Marcos and the Un iversity of Cali fornia, San Diego-the midshipmen learn early on to discipline themselves. USD and San Diego Scare serve as host schools, so students from the three other universities come to one of rhe host schools for classes and training. In addition to their regular coursework, NROTC students must complete physics and calculus before their junior year. They can major in any subject, bur are required to minor in Naval Science, taking classes in

each on ships, submarines, aircraft and with the Marines. In subsequent summers they narrow down their interests and receive more specialized training-some as pilots or as members of special warfare teams like the Navy SEALs-all leading to their commis– sion as Naval ensigns or Marine second lieu– tenants upon graduation. Back on campus, many NROTC students are visible in their roles as resident security advisors - essentially public safety officers for the dorms-for which the university pays their room and board. Despite the dif– ferences , most say they don't feel particularly distinct from their fellow students, as mid– shipmen can be fou nd on the footbal l and crew reams, in acting and music programs, and in many extracurricular clubs. And in San D iego, a Navy town for decades, military uniforms are an everyday sight. "You do get students who are curious about NROTC and will ask why we wane to do it," says junior Jennifer Liebertz, who is applying to the Navy's Explosive Ordinance Disposal program, an underwater bomb squad. "When I tell them I want to dedicate myself to protecting our country, they're very supportive. Some have even thanked me. " Duty Bej11re D11llars In a competitive job climate where even high-paying jobs go wanting for lack of qualified applicants, the military can't com– pete financially with private sector jobs that engineering and comp uter science graduates can land. Graduates who earn $50,000 to $60,000 as officers might make six figures at a corporation, without the need to do all that extra work in college. Even so, NROTC has little problem find– ing enough good candidates to fill the 1,500 open spots nationwide each year. Unlike mil– itary recruiting in general, NROTC recruit– ing isn't as big of a challenge, as competition for scholarships is intense. And while there are the Naval Academy and Seaman to Admiral program to fill some of the officer vacancies, the Navy now counts on NROTC as its main source of officers. "The students in NROTC want to be here," says senior Joe Moore. "They see a chance to serve their country for a few years, gee their college education paid off and then maybe lacer chink about getting that high– paying job in rhe private sector." The commitment to service above material gai n, NROTC and university administrators say, is what makes the officer training pro– gram such a perfect fir for USD. At a univer– sity committed to the ideals of service, values

and morality, the NROTC mission to develop its students morally, mentally and physically is a welcome addition. And with jointly sponso red programs such as the James Bond Stockdale Symposium on Ethics and Leadership, an annual workshop and lecture named for the retired mili tary hero and Medal of Honor recipient, students across campus are exposed to a broader dis– cussion of ethics and morality. This year's symposium, jointly sponsored by NROTC and USD's Values Institute, features an April 10 public lecture by Albert Pierce, director of professional ethics at the Naval Academy. "Ir's truly a symbiotic relationship between rhe program and the university," says Cmdr. Mike Gurley, the program's executive officer. "Especially in current times, when the mili– tary is increasingly used for peacekeeping operations, it's clear to me char we stand for the same things. " By the rime they finish up their first year, no matter how they come into the program or whether they aspire to serve the minimum commitment or stay in the military for life, the young midship– men have a pretty clear sense of what they stand for, too. They may miss a few parties, work out in the gym instead of lounging in the dorm or give up that summer trip to Europe, but to most, it doesn't feel like they're missi ng a thing. "We do some things above and beyond what ocher students do, but it's more of a privilege than a sacrifice," says Liebertz. "With the training I've received, the respect I've learned for ocher people and the respon– sib ility I've been given, I feel I'm getting more out of my coll ege life than most. " +

!11 lier jmt year oj t!te ;mgram, Pam Manka!! co111iderecl 1uiftbtg, hut 1zow s!te's aylato011 officer.

Naval history, ethics, leadership, engineering, navigation and combat systems. They are expected to keep themselves in top physical condition, maintain solid grades, dress appro– priately while in civilian garb-no rube tops, flip-flops or facial hair for these students– and demonstrate high moral character at all times. Even their classes are different. "Our classes are open to everyone, and it's always interesting to see how students out– side NROTC react when the professor walks in and we all stand to attention," says senior Hector Rivera, 25, who served four years in the Navy and came to USD through a spe– cial program that includes one year of pre– NROTC preparatory courses. "For us, it's just part of how we do things. " Doing things differently comes with the territory. While most college students take on summer jobs at the mall or at a home– town business, NRTOC midshipmen spend the summer after freshman year on a four– week training deployment, spending a week

USD MA GAZ I NE

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HLJw Tkey GLJt Here THE '250 NAVAL RESERVE OFFICER TRAINING STUDENTS IN SAN DIEGO, ABOUT 40 PERCENT OF WHOM ARE WOMEN, COME TO COLLEGE IN SEVERAL DIFFERENT WAYS: r.l The Scholarship Program is for high school graduates picked through the highly competitive annual selection process. They get a "full ride ," with all tuition , fees and books paid for by the government, a monthly $200 stipend, and paid summer training. r.l The Two-Year Program is for college stu– dents who apply after their sophomore year. If accepted, they attend the Naval Science Institute in Newport, R.I. , in the summer prior to their junior year, then participate in the final two years of NROTC, also receiving the $200 monthly stipend. r.l The College Program admits students who don 't receive a scholarship , but still want an officer commission . They can participate with the battalion and may be picked up later for scholarships, or they may receive "advanced standing," which provides a $200 monthly stipend but not a scholarship. r.l The Enlisted Commissioning Program and Marine ECP, through which enlisted mili– tary personnel apply and are transferred to host universities. These students are considered active– duty personnel and continue to be paid by the Navy, but must pay their own tuition and fees. r.l The Seaman to Admiral Program pro– vides exceptional enlisted personnel with full pay and allowances, as well as tuition and fees , while they complete their bachelor's degrees. They then complete Officer Candidate School in Pensacola , Fla. , and are commissioned as officers. r.l The BOOST (Broadened Opportunity for Officer Selection and Training) is for en listed personnel who don't immediately qualify for scholarships. Those selected are provided with instniction in math, science, English and computer science to prepare them for NRTOC scholarships or appointment to the Naval Academy.

IfJ 1till dark wke11 mit&kiy111e11 gatker atoy tke USD yarki11g 1tmcturefor a /Jllce-a-week, 5:45 a.111. 111111ter.

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WI NTE R 2 001

ASSETS __oo=v _ o Stories by Susan Herold and Tim McKernan

A s spring approaches, the files begin piling up on USD financial aid counselors' desks, jammed with enough figures and decimal points and dollar signs to make even an accountant scream. le would be easy enough for chose who match the students with the money to get caught up in the dizzying, detail-driven world of college financial aid, where acronyms pepper the conver– sation (Did you gee your FAFSA in on time?) and time is measured in application deadlines. Bue inside each file the financial aid coun– selors know there is a student who dreams of a college education. Dreamers like Javier Marin, who was raised in a neighborhood where gun– shots and crack deals are as regular as the sun– rise, yet who refused to give up on his dream of a college degree even though his mother, a migrant worker, had no money to help him. In May, Marin will graduate USD with hon– ors, a tribute to his will and that of financial aid counselors, who worked with him over his col– lege career to put together a package of grants, loans and scholarships worth about $20,000 a year. "The resources are out there, you just have to continue to work to find chem, and gee yourself known with the financial aid office," says Marin, one of 660 students at USD who are the first in their family to attend a university. "This was the best decision I've ever made in my life - I've learned so much in these four years and changed myself for the better." Approximately 5,300 applications will pour into the USD Financial Aid Office this year from students seeking an array of grants, scholar– ships and loans to help them cover the cost of their education. While demand is always greater than che resources - two-thirds of USD's undergraduates depend on some form of finan– cial assistance - $68 million will be handed our this year to undergrad and graduate students. At first blush, the rhoughr of financing a col– lege education can be terrifying in an era when the cost of a degree can range from $40,000 for a public university to upwards of $150,000 at some private universities (USD's annual tuition

is $19,128). But the concept is a lot less fright– ening when it is approached with a sensible savings plan, combined with some legwork in rounding up grant, scholarship and loan applications. In fact, USD's director of financial aid notes chat students who take our loans to help gee chem through college graduate on average owing about $23,000 - about the price of a new car. "When you consider char the value of your degree goes up each year, in terms of earning power, it's one of the best investments you can make," says director Judith Lewis Logue. Her theory has proven accurate: USD graduates have one of the lowest default rates in the nation when it comes to repaying student loans, a testament to their earning power. USD students also are getting better at scour– ing the nation for scholarships, a growing com– ponent of college financial aid. This year, USD topped the $1 million mark in outside scholar– ships brought into the university by students. A decade ago, barely $200,000 in outside money came m. But it's the money that comes from USD and its donors that makes the key difference in get– ting kids like Javier Marin a college education. More than $29 million of the funds awarded chis year to USD students came from the university, endowed scholarships or donations. It is the key pool of money that financial aid counselors dip into to complete the financial aid packages offered to outstanding students who can't get to Alcala Park otherwise. Kari Griffiths, whose parents, Charlotte and Falk Nielsen, endowed a scholarship at USO 25 years ago, says the family's great joy is watch– ing the students they helped become elementary teachers, Peace Corps volunteers and entrepre– neurs. "Ir's so special to talk with them," she says of the students she meets ac an annual lunch where donors meet with the students who receive their scholarships. "They're such fun kids. I always feel like it's one big family chat we're lucky to be a part of."

Finding college financial aid requires some legwork and digging, but it's the people behind the scholarships, the students who never give up and the families that support them who are the real discoveries .

12

USD MA G AZ I N E

GIVING OTHERS WHAT THEY GAVE UP Cllarlo tt c ielsen and Laura McDonald Lewis learned tl1e value o f a college edu ation tl1e !lard way - ic lscn was forced 10 abandon her dream for financial reasons during the Gr at Depression: McDonald Lewis was in her 405 wl1en sl1e returnee! to scl1ool. determined 10 complete her degr e after giving up on college .

UNDERSTANDING FINANCIAL AID

GRANTS Awarded on financial need, these are outright grants of monies chat do not have co be paid back. There are two types: the federal Pell Grant, based on substantial need for undergradu– ate students, and the Cal Grant, a need-based grant for California residents who attend college in California. A Cal Grant awarded this year to a USD student could pay up co $9,708 coward tuition. SCHOLARSHIPS The require– ments co be awarded a scholar– ship vary, but most demand a min– imum 3.0 grade point average, a certain academic interest or social service component. USD has about $600,000 in endowed scholarships (where donors' money is invested and the earn– ings given to qualified students each year), as well as USD Scholarships, which are given co promising students in need of financial help. Monies from USD Scholarships come in part from the donations of alumni and friends of the university. LOANS Three federal loan pro– grams (Perkins, Stafford and PLUS) offer students and parents a variety of borrowing programs chat provide lower interest races and better repayment plans than conventional bank loans. For example, the Stafford loan pro– gram does not require a student co begin paying off the loan until six months after graduation, and the current interest race, which is sec annually, is 8.19 percent. USD also offers students no-interest loans through the USDTrust Loan Program funded by donors and the Weingart Foundation, which has provided more than $14 mil– lion in loans co 2,800 students in the past 12 years. WORK STUDY Another fed– eral need-based program, quali– fied students are put co work at a variety of campus jobs.

I ntimately familiar with the struggles of getting through college, each have established endowed scholarships at USD to make sure ochers will have an easier time than they did. "It was my dream to go to college, but it would have cost my family five dollars a week for me to go away to school," says Nielsen, who won a scholar– ship to Missouri's Stephens College after graduating high school in 1932. "My father barely made chat much in a month." Nielsen gave up her pose-college plans - "I wanted to either teach kindergarten or have a stage career," she says. Bue after moving to San Diego, meeting her husband, che lace S. Falk "Neil" Nielsen, founder of the local Nielsen Construction Co., and raising five children, she had the opportunity to reignite her passion for higher education. "I became acquainted with the sisters at USD back in the days when it was separate colleges for men and women," she says. "I always thought ic was such a wonderful, peaceful place. It is the kind of college I wish I could have attended." This year marks the 25th chat the Nielsens have helped turn the wishes of ochers to attend USD into reality. The $25,000 they placed in an endowment in 1976 has grown and provides approximately $2,000 a year for USD students in need of financial aid. James Hrzina '96, who received the Nielsen schol– arship, says the gift helped make his USD education

would not have been possible without the scholar– ship, even with working 20 or 30 hours a week." Hrzina had to achieve a 3.4 or higher grade point average to maintain his scholarship. Laura McDonald Lewis considered a similar requirement when she and her husband, Gerald, endowed their scholarship. Bue she opted not co concentrate so heavily on academics. "I was a bookworm in high school and led a rather shelcered life," she says. "When I got to college, I really came out of my shell. I learned a lot, but chat didn't reflect in my grades. I had co maintain a 3.5 GPA, and when I fell below chat I lose my scholarship and had to quit school. "When we endowed the scholarship at USD," she says, "I insisted on parameters chat are probably more flexible than most ochers. " McDonald Lewis, who earned a degree in history magna cum laude at USD in 1994 after dropping out of both Chapman College and San Diego Scace University, established the scholarship when her hus– band said he wanted to gee her a special gift for her 50th birthday. "Education has always been important co me, and when I went back co college at USD and saw how hard chose kids worked and how eight it was for some of chem," she says, "I knew it was the thing to do."

possible. In addition to the scholarship and ocher financial aid, Hrzina worked in the university's computer lab and as a teacher's assistant at Francis Parker Middle

School to gee through school. "There was no way I could have done it alone, " says Hrzina, who now teaches his– tory and economics at Palos Verdes Peninsula High School while working on his master's degree at Loyola Marymount University. "I really wanted to go to a qual– ity school, but it definitely

Charlotte Nielsen (second from right) and daughter Kari Griffiths

13

WI NTE R 2001

AGAINST ALL ODDS The odds against Javier Marin going to college were as high as the crackheads he passed each day on his way to Little League practice in l1is Santa Ana neighborhood. H e witnessed his first drive-by shooting by rhe first grade. His parents, both Mexican migrant

WHERE TO START All types of financial aid start with an application to determine eligi– bility. At USD, the two major forms required are: FREE APPLICATION FOR FEDERAL STUDENT AID The FAFSA, as it is better known, is the primary application for fed– eral loan and grant programs and requests basic information like student and family income and net worth. It's also used by universi– ties to supplement their financial aid information. The free form is available at high schools, colleges, the USD Financial Aid Office or can be filled out online at http://www.fafsa.ed.gov. USD FINANCIAL AID APPLICATION To apply for USD scholarships and loans, students also must fill out this form, which is used to put together individual financial aid packages. The form can be picked up at the Financial Aid Office or down– loaded at www.acusd.edu (click on academic services, then finan– cial aid). APPLICATION DEADLINES vary, but incoming freshmen usual– ly must have the forms in by mid February, and continuing students by April I. Call the USD Financial Aid Office at (619) 260-4514.

che university views as cop candidates, Marin pulled cogecher about $22,000 a year in monies co help him through school. In May, Marin will graduate with a degree in soci– ology and an expected job offer from either the San Diego Police Department or che California Highway Patrol. He will face about $25,000 in loans for his four years at USO. "If ic weren't for the grants and scholarships, I wouldn't be here today talking about graduating," says Marin, who is helping his younger brother and sister, borh high school students, fill out their college applications.

workers, spoke licrle English. When he was 6, his father died, forcing his older brother and sister co drop out of school co support che family. Determined co graduate Century High School and accend a university, Marin saw athletics as his cickec ouc. A football quarterback, he was being recruited and was on crack co land a scholarship co che Air Force Academy. The first game of his senior year, he blew out his knee. The corn ligament left him emotionally shaccered, but he refused co give up. With the help of his coaches and English teacher, he con-

centrated on academics. He graduated with a 3.8 grade point average and applied co the cop California schools - UCLA, Berkeley, Stanford, USO. Bue his coughesc challenge was scaring him in che face. If he goc accepted co college, how would he pay for it?

FINANCIAL AID FACTS Tllere are 660 first-generation college students at USO - kids wllose parents never attended college.

Marin is known on campus for his achievements. He is a member of the National Mortar Board, Alacala Leadership Program, Orientation Team and a year-round intramural athlete. He works for the Associated Students and has a second job as a youth counselor for che San Diego Juvenile Probation Department. And he is a new father co 8-month-old Lourdes with his fiancee, Celena Rodriguez, a San Diego State University senior. "Javier is an amazing person," says Professor Anne Hendershott, who has relied on him in her sociology classes co tell his fellow students what life is like in a cough neighborhood. "The other students admire him, because he has lived through so much, but is willing co share his stories. He just keeps saying he is so lucky co be here. " Marin has some advice for those thinking the hur– dles co a college education are coo high: "Remember, it's your education, not theirs. The resources are out there, you just have co keep at it, and don't let go of your dream. "

"There were so many forms and so much paper– work. After a while, I got pretty much overwhelmed by che whole process," says Marin, whose mother could offer licrle help because she couldn't read English. "Bue my mother inspired me. She cold me not co give up, no maccer what."

With che help of his teachers and older sister (who had a full-ride scholarship co Berkeley but gave it up co support the family) Marin sec up appointments with the school's financial aid counselors, filled out federal applications and gathered up every scholarship application he found on the school bulletin board or che Internee. When he was accepted co USO, financial aid officers began supplementing the money Marin had sought on his own. Through a combination of grants and scholarships, including a USO incentive scholarship, which is used co complete the financial aid packages of students whom

Javier Marin

14

USD MAGAZINE

FROM LOSS COMES HOPE Lindel Sarclina and Kay Krol1nc have never inc l, yc1 they share a bond clcepcr tl1c1n mos t coulcl ever cornprc l1cncl.

WHERE THE MONEY COMES FROM

USO and Donors ...................$29.03 million

Federal Government..........$3 1.73 million

B oth women lost their sons at a point when everyrhing seems bright and shiny and attain– able - within months of their college graduation. Ir would be understandable if they were to wallow in the pain and sorrow. No one would blame rhem if they became angry. Yet these women and their husbands chose to give others the same hope and promise that their boys shared by creating endowed scholarships at USD in their sons' names - Jeffrey Sardina and Kristopher Krohne. They view their gifts nor so much as a memorial, but as a celebration of spirit, a means of touching others through their sons' lives. "Jeff always liked to help people," says Linda Sardina, who with husband John endowed a scholar– ship shortly after Jeff, 22, was killed in February 1990 when he fell from a La Jolla, Calif., cliff. "Through this scholarship and its recipients, we feel Jeff moving on and living through their lives." Jeff, a 1989 USD graduate with a degree in busi– ness administration, was the fourth of the Sardinas' five boys. An athlete with a love of baseball, he had a quiet sense of humor and a strong sense of ethics, the peacemaker whom friends counted on to be the designated driver during a night on the town. He dreamed of working in the financial industry and traveling the wo rld. Knowing their son's love of USD - his oldest brother John graduated in 1984 - the Sardinas established rhe scholarship to help students who, like Jeff, display a strong sense of ethics and a determina– tion to help others. Yer they did more than offer financial aid. The Sardinas embrace the students selected, inviting them to their Universiry Ciry home for Sunday dinner, exchanging birthday and Christmas cards, writing them letters and e-mails. "I was surprised they were so interested in me," says Eliott Engel, a senior and current recipient of the Jeffrey Sardina scholarship, who plans on attending Oxford to get his master's in philosophical theology. "I don't know too many endowment funds where they have you up to the house for dinner. They made me feel like a son." Shawn McEachem '95, the first student to receive the four-year scholarship, says it wasn't just the money the Sardinas provided that made a difference in his college career. Ir was rhe sense of belonging. "They told me about Jeff, showed me his pictures, let me meet their family, " says McEachem, owner of Inflatable Design Group in San Diego. "Nor only

was ir finan cial support, bur there was a lot of moral support, a lot of loving advice." The Sardinas say they have benefited from rhe scholarship as well. "We're so proud of these boys, and knowing that Jeff helped them means a lot," Linda says. Kay Krohne knows well rhe value of emotional and moral support for college students, especially those involved in the rigorous NROTC program at USD, which trains future Naval military leaders. Kay is the former executive officer of USD's Naval training program, and both she and husband Ted are retired Navy commanders. Their 24-year-old son, Kristopher, was following in their footsteps when he was killed Sept. 6 while piloting a T-37 jet during a training Bight in Oklahoma. Ir was his second solo Bight. "Ted and I talked about what we would do to honor him," Kay says of Kris, who graduated from George Washington Universiry's NROTC program in May. They settled upon an endowed scholarship for an Alcala Park NROTC student based on leader– ship abiliry and academics, as well as a "spirit award" at both USD and George Washington, an engraved sword for a graduating senior who possesses Kris' enthusiasm for life and his determination. "Kris was a very effervescent personaliry," says Kay, whose son planned to attend law school and enter politics after his military career. "He would wear a Hawaiian shirr under his

State Government ............ $5.04 million

Private Sources .......$2.50 million

Total ......................$68.30 million

FINANCIAL AID FACTS 6 8 percent of USO undergrads depend on some form of financial assistance .

The Sardinas and Eliott Engel

Aighr suit, even though he could ger in trouble, just because he liked to make people laugh. 'Tm sure he'd be

very happy about rhe scholarship," adds Kay, who received her doc– torate in leadership from USD in 1992. "Kris felt strongly about serv– ing his country, and I'm sure he'd be proud knowing he helped others who feel the same way."

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WINTER 200 I