If you're worried about the space-time continuum breaking down, don't be. I don't think the time warp is very strong; it won't take you back to the Jurassic period or anything like that. It's a subtle field that surrounds buildings on campus. Don't be surprised if you didn't realize it until now.
I've been through three time warps this week. The first came when I visited the library for one of my classes. I walked into the Helen B. and Martin D. Schwartz Special Collections and Digital Complex room and straight into the future. A Microsoft Surface, a computer the size of a coffee table that operates on advanced multi-touch technology, greeted me as I walked through the door. Farther inside the library's new area, I saw multiple tables with flat screen televisions at their heads.
Oddly enough, I was there to learn about the history of printed materials, a time warp of its own. During the presentation, a camera attached to the ceiling transmitted images of books and documents to the fancy new flat screens all around the room.
Despite the content of the presentation, I was definitely in the future. I loved it, even though it still seemed to be creating inferior consumer products.
Later the same day, I walked straight into another time warp in North Quad. I didn't immediately realize it, but as I sat in class there was no doubt that something had flung me back to the time before I was born.
This room, unlike the library room with the 20-syllable name, wasn't adorned with anything particularly interesting. The clock on the wall was the first clue to when I was. Its analog hands were pointing to 9:30 instead of the 2:30 in the afternoon my watch and phone showed. Time was flowing slowly here, and the evidence was all around.
The technology in the room: One projector to be used with overhead transparencies, two small televisions from the 1980s, a telephone, a chalkboard complete with chalk and a small black eraser, desks and chairs, about half of which were occupied, and lastly, a pencil sharpener for those wooden relics they still force elementary school children to use.
In one day, I experienced the past, present and future of technology. It was a harrowing journey that I'm sure only I was aware of. It was all thanks to Ball State University.
Technology is a huge part of all students' lives. It determines how we learn, what we learn and how we spend our time. It's unavoidable and we can't live without it. It's one of the major selling points Ball State uses to sell the university to donors, prospective students and anyone else who will listen.
If only the university told everyone about the time warps.
Ball State officials shouldn't be satisfied with the status quo when it comes to technology. Sure, there are plenty of places where an abundance of technology can be found and used to students' advantage. In fact, officials are frantically figuring new ways to spend money to get more technology in new spots on campus. Just look at the library's new space or the new and renovated residence halls sprouting up around campus.
I'm all for progress, but it should always be logical. The university needs to update areas with outdated technology and resources instead of spending money on new spaces while ignoring the rest. Take the North Quad building, which is a product of at least five different construction projects dating back to 1926, as an example of what the university is ignoring.
How can officials justify spending so much money on technology in new spaces while letting others languish and slip backwards in time? I don't know.
I know exactly where I can go to find out. I'll just go back to one of the time warps and wait for Jo Ann Gora to show up. Maybe one of her past versions can explain the logic to me.
I'll let you know what she says. Until then, enjoy the time travel.