Desperate film students hire own teacher when class is cancelled

(U-WIRE) -- The first day of Henry Rosenthal's film producing class did not seem unusual for San Francisco State's crowded cinema department. Students were crammed into a small classroom in the Creative Arts building, hoping to get a few more units out of the department's packed curriculum.

More than 50 people showed up to the class that was scheduled for 25. Students were sitting on the floor, standing in the back of the classroom and spilling out the door, students said.

Then Robert Lewis, acting chair of the cinema department, announced that the department did not have enough money to offer the class and it was canceled.

Students had the option to pay more than $400 for the canceled class through the extended learning program, but instead, members of the class agreed to pay Rosenthal $75 each.

"It's obviously an example of ingenuity and resourcefulness on the part of the students," said cinema professor Jim Kitses. "You can also look at it and say it's pretty sad."

Rosenthal's class is part of a film program that is under-funded and overwhelmed with students, a situation largely attributed by university officials to budget cuts and a massive reduction in faculty sustained by SFSU in the early 1990s.

"Every single college at this campus is under-staffed. Cinema is the worst," said Keith Morrison, dean of creative arts. "We don't have the funds to do anything about it."

The department has only 12 professors to serve more than 600 students, leaving cinema majors struggling to get classes.

"They just make us work extra hard to get an education," said senior cinema major Rick Van Meter, who is in Rosenthal's class. "It's like pulling teeth to get units."

"It was like, 'Do I want to graduate?'," said senior cinema major Scott Farnsworth, who is also in the class. "I have to pay 75 bucks."

"I was just happy to get a class," said senior film major Andy Lawrence. "A huge number of people want to be cinema majors. There's only so much a state school can do."

The department had to cancel Rosenthal's producing course to keep classes required for a cinema degree.

"It's one course against the other," Lewis said. "When I did the schedule for fall, I was overly optimistic. It was partly my inexperience. I was essentially short on dollars and I had to make a choice of what class to cancel."

Millsapps said that while she was chair, the department would get more students than what the budget was targeted for every year

"It was a problem I dealt with for years," Millsapps said. "I guess I got tired of fighting it."

In addition to paying its staff, the cinema department also needs to maintain expensive equipment. A 16 mm camera typically used by independent film makers would cost about $35,000 if it was bought second-hand, said cinema production coordinator Michelle Gnutzman.

"The general fund budget is so small, it barely covers photocopies," Gnutzman said. "We don't even have enough chairs. We have students sitting on the floor half the time."

Rosenthal said he was told two weeks before the semester that his class had been canceled.

"I felt like I was on the verge of having the rug pulled out from under me, just like the students," he said.

Rosenthal said he is now being paid as an honorarium by the Cinema Collective, a student-run club.

Manuel Orozco, a cinema major in Rosenthal's class and a member of the Cinema Collective, said he heard the course had been canceled before the first session.

"There was no way to get it reinstated," Orozco said. "So we looked for alternatives."

After the students first learned that their class was canceled, the cinema department offered them a solution: pay more than $400 to the College of Extended Learning in order to keep the class alive.

"Nobody thought that was much of a solution," said cinema major Lisa Battone, who is also a member of the Cinema Collective.

"If I were a student, I don't know how I would feel about that," Rosenthal said.

Members of the class wrote $75 checks out to the Cinema Collective to pay Rosenthal. The remainder of the money was used to buy books for the class. The university recognizes Rosenthal as a volunteer, not as an employee.

"Henry volunteering his time to the university was a stroke of genius," Battone said.

Shortly after the semester began, Rosenthal's class was moved to a larger room to accommodate all the students.

"It was gratifying to me that the students went through so much trouble to get me," Rosenthal said. "It means something to me."