Salient. An Organ of Student Opinion at Victoria College, Wellington, N.Z. Vol. 13, No. 21. Spetember 14, 1950
Speakers from the floor had meat to chew on: Mr. Braybrooke went first to the lion's den: he chose the obvious side. "I am no genius," he platitudinously announced. ("We did think you looked like Mr. Belvedere," commented Mr. O'Brien). "When I was a child the long beards of my town told me if I went to university, I'd go far: I went, but here I am." The lecture system, he epigrammed, is a process of casting imitation, pearls before real swine.
While Mr. Curtin was astounded to hear that Miss Stevens had informed the chairman that there was one more type of woman than he knew about, Mr. Cook proclaimed that he had surveyed the university—from the staff side of the platform, one imagined—and had seen in it too much seriousness ("Had you a mirror there," cut in Mr. Robinson).
Mr. Foy asserted that there were real advantages in university education—the lawyer knew best what he could get away, with; the accountant could cook his income tax returns much better; even for the butchers and trade unions secretaries which the learned doctor had quoted, a doctor for the one or a Jock Barnes with his degree for the other, was proof of the advantage.