COLUMN: Awash in an Alphabet Soup

From Lee Bailey's "The Immaculate Perception?", Fall '95 From Lee Bailey's "The Immaculate Perception?", Fall '95Every profession has a jargon inherent to its operation, and being a student is certainly no exception. Higher education is a veritable petri dish for specialized language, and at our own University the acronym reigns supreme as the semantic device of choice. There are two prevailing schools of thought in this pseudo-science. One maintains that names inspire acronyms, while the other insists that the acronym comes first. Do clubs and departments really originate lengthy titles to purposefully arrive at a preconceived acronym? This lead to a major philosophical question: Is group naming teleological? For example, was The Daily Pennsylvanian so named in order that one can easily say "DP?" One doubts such a theory. However, the controversy begins when one takes groups such as P.E.A.R.L., which stands for Penn's Eagerly Awaited Radical Ladies. It is probably safe to say that these "radical ladies" contrived their group's moniker solely for its derivative acronym. But how useful is that? As a result of their creativity, the members of this group have the misfortune of remaining unknown to all. Their name tells nothing about them. One wonders, "Why are they so eagerly awaited? What makes them so radical?" One will never know the wonders of P.E.A.R.L., for its members have been secreted by a vainglorious naming process. From the name they have selected, one might postulate that P.E.A.R.L. members could be anything from from nude mudwrestlers to Gloria Steinem followers. Intent isn't the only aspect of this issue which merits analysis, though. What about the confusion that some acronyms cause? When one student told his father that he was going to major in P.P.E., the parent raged that gym teachers had difficulty finding jobs and did not make much money. Of course, the fact that the father confused "P.P.E." and "P.E." doesn't make a difference in terms of probable employment and salary, but the two are quite separate in an academic sense. Perhaps the most ridiculous of all names at the University is P.A.R.I.S. While it is feasible that the acronym innocently resulted from the system's name (the Penn Automated Registration and Information System), the campy effect is unforgivable. Countless registering freshmen were probably castigated this summer by misunderstanding parents, furious that their children were making transatlantic phone calls ("But Mom, I was only calling P.A.R.I.S."). The nuances of acronyminology are myriad. Different clubs and groups adopt various psychologies when christening themselves. Students Together Against Acquaintance Rape were apparently going for that Saab/Haagen-Dazs eurotrash effect with their acronym, S.T.A.A.R. Others select names rather unthoughtfully and even misleadingly -- surely the University of Pennsylvania Student Federal Credit Union could have spared its customers the mouthful of U.P.S.F.C.U. by just calling themselves the B.O.I.S.S. (Bank of Incredibly Slow Service). "U-P-S-F-C-U" is six whole syllables, but "Boiz" is only one. Speech economy ought definitely to be a consideration when naming an organization. The list goes on, of course, to include M.A.C.H.O., W.A.T.U., P.C.U.E., N.E.C., I.F.C., B.F.S., U.A. and countless others. It is worth remembering, also, that many students make up their own words and that the official side of the University is not the only home to acronyms. A friend invented the term F.R.O.W.P.P.O.C. (pronounced "fraupock"), used to describe any Friendly Resident Of West Philadelphia Peddling Overpriced Candy. A dynamic part of everyone's vocabulary, the acronym can be thanked for making Penn a college awash in an alphabet soup.