I'd like to start this article out by saying that I love my school dearly. Fordham has become a second home to me, and its people, classes, and values have taught me more in the space of a semester than I learned in my twelve years of lower education. However, that doesn't mean that this university is without faults, and recent events have shaken me to my core.
This morning I decided to work out in the on-campus gym. As I jogged on the treadmill, tin an attempt to fight off the boredom that inevitably arrives around the half-way mark of my workout, I decided to turn on "The Today Show" and catch up on some news. I was half-paying attention to a report on the Superbowl when the scrolling by-line bar at the bottom of the screen caught my eye, "...at Fordham was struck and killed by the MetroNorth train yesterday."
Immediately, my heart rate accelerated past its already-elevated state. Did a Fordham student die? How did I not know about it? I quickly snatched up my phone and looked up the story: sure enough, a student was tragically hit and killed by the MetroNorth on February 1st in an apparent suicide, the second of its kind in the last month. There were two facts, however, that somehow registered through the immediate grief that gathered in my chest.
One, there had been two suicides in the Fordham community that I hadn't known about, and two, the students weren't enrolled at Fordham, but at Fordham Prep.
For those of you who aren't familiar with Fordham Prep, it is a private high school on the Fordham campus, a boys school that has been teaching students for many years. Everyone enrolled in the university has encountered the prep students at some point during their years here, and they are all considered to be members of our school (albeit younger ones).
As it dawned on me that I had been ignorant of two dreadful deaths in my community, I felt a sense of unease come over me. How had I not known? I studied alongside these young men each day, and even if I didn't see them, they were as big a part of the Fordham community as I am.
As the day went on, I talked about the tragedy with others on campus. No one I spoke to had heard anything about the first suicide (which had taken place out of state, but involved a Fordham Prep student), and no announcement had occurred as of this writing even though the second death took place near campus.
It is not my intention to cause any trouble for Fordham higher-ups, nor to disturb the prep students or families: I offer my deepest sympathies and prayers to those suffering because of these events, and I grieve alongside the community. However, I feel that, as a member of this community, I (and everyone else) have the right to question why I had to find out about such an incident via the national news instead of from the school itself. As a community member, I want to offer support to those who are hurting right now, and I can't do that if there is no information to be had.
So this is, I suppose, a call-out on Fordham. We are a university built on community: Cura personalis -- care for the whole person -- our motto. This state of personhood should include the community as a whole entity, a way of banding together and supporting one another through thick and thin. By not releasing a notice regarding the calamity that occurred in our family, Fordham has inadvertently split our community in half, an action that prevents us from banding together during this time of pain. We are all Fordham Prep and University alike. As such, I believe that we all have the right to know the events, no matter how tragic, that occur in our home.