Like ships in the night, Critic Te Ārohi and the Proctor haven’t been in direct contact for a while. Our communication has mostly been through Uni Comms media statements – like toxic exes that use their child to communicate. “Well, you can tell your father that I said…”
But we’re back in the clinic now to talk about all things Proctor.
If you’re new here, Proctology is the branch of medicine concerned with the anus and rectum. And, apparently, student life.
This Month in the Clinic
Proctor Dave Scott is probably the only University staff member who is actively trying to minimise the need for his job. The “vast majority” of students never meet him – which is exactly how he likes it. Still, his office sees everything that affects students: Relationship breakups, mental health crises, financial pressures and homesickness. The full spectrum of being twenty and away from home.
But we’re here to talk about the students he does meet.
Scott has been in the role for nearly ten years now, and while he might’ve been a bit bemused when he first started working with students, he’s a well boiled frog by now. So what’s come through the clinic recently?
Flo and O-Week were, by historical standards, relatively tame – meaning bottles were only thrown accidentally and a good number of couches remain intact. In preparation, Scott had actually called all the Castle and Leith Street flats (and those adjacent) in for a PowerPoint presentation regarding their flat parties. It covered expectations, safety messages and how the Uni and OUSA could help out – a bit like your mum fretfully hovering in the corner of the room at your 18th. Here’s to a safe, successful, and lawful year.
The content of his presentation, the Proctor explained, could be largely summed up by the sign stuck to his wall: a guide to “not being an asshole.” There’s only one step: Don’t be an asshole. Critic laughs. The Proctor doesn’t.
As for partying advice, the Proctor has a wise piece of wisdom to bestow. “Do your partying on the ground,” he advises. “Then you've only got that far to fall.” Critic seconds this. Don’t get on roofs.
While the presentation garnered “mixed reactions”, it was an ultimately successful first lecture for the Uni’s newest paper offering, CAST201.
With the Council of Castle called and adjourned, the beginning of the year ran with scholarly precision. However, the Proctor’s office has been dealing with another problem: Sticky fingers. And it’s not due to whatever new iteration of raspberry and quadrillion distilled vodka Leith Liquor has on shelves.
If the Proctor could telepathically beam anything into the minds of students right now it would be to “lock your door”. With the grace and naivety of newborn deer, North Dunedin operates on a “high trust model”, but non-students know this and can take advantage. While a little bit funny to think of someone going food shopping two doors down, it’s actually fucking weird to have a stranger poking around in your flat.
Proctor’s Prescription
The Proctor isn’t here to crucify students – just help them not get things wrong. His advice is pretty practical: lock your doors and talk to your landlord about a lockbox or spare key solution. Don't nick furniture from campus, like one student did from the Marsh Study Centre. Te Oraka has some affordable options.
The University has the Pūtea Tautoko Student Relief Fund to help with students experiencing financial pressure and four pātaka kai (food pantries) at Te Huka Mātauraka Māori Centre, the Pacific Islands Centre, Recreation Services Unipol and Te Pou Whirinaki (Student Wellbeing Hub) at the Information Services Building. OUSA Student Support also has food bags to give out on a ‘no questions asked’ basis.
