Word: doctorate
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Today's students are also of the generation nurtured to a deep distrust of authority. . . . For many people brought up in this atmosphere any exercise of power, even that of a doctor over a patient or a teacher over a pupil, creates a feeling of discomfort. To those who are strongly sensitized to this issue the hierarchy structure of a university faculty is an object at once of suspicion and resentment. One of our students declared himself unable to think of Harvard as a community of scholars and students. "It is a hierarchy," he said, "and this is the source...
...moral and emotional considerations. Great Britain is now learning the lesson of history in a most unfortunate way. A new law permitting abortion under certain circumstances was passed less than a year ago as a humane effort to treat the matter as an essentially medical issue between patient and doctor. Although the new law has proved helpful to British women, it has swamped physicians and produced some socially divisive results. It has also turned London into the abortion capital of the Western world...
Even with its obvious defects, the law has had an enormous effect on the attitude of the woman seeking abortion. While she used to appear in her doctor's office weeping, cringing and remorseful, she now walks in self-possessed, knowing that she has certain rights and confident of talking out her problem sensibly with her doctor. In a growing number of cases, she succeeds...
Where can hippies turn for medical help? Increasingly, many of them look to the column of Doctor HIPpocrates, the surgeon-general of the sandal-and-speed set. They call him "Dr. HIP," but his real name is Eugene Schoenfeld. He got his schooling at the University of California, the University of Miami, the Yale University Department of Public Health and Albert Schweitzer's hospital in Africa. Now his jungle is the turned-on, freaked-out, sex-and-psychedelic scene...
...characterization of what some blacks refer to as "Supernegro." Opening the door of her home to find a young, leather-jacketed black (Charles Moore), she chirped: "Why, it's a good-looking young Negro. Now don't tell me. I'll bet you're a doctor, a lawyer, a scientist, or maybe even an astronaut." "None of them," rejoined the black, pulling out a gun. "Give me your money." Carol handed over her pocketbook and smiled: "It certainly is refreshing to meet someone who isn't a credit to his race...