COMMUNITY

Lordy, it was COLD out there this morning. I had to rush back into the house, an icicle forming on my nose, to get my jogging suit, gloves and stocking hat. The cold air was stimulating enough to fend off depressing thoughts of my impending 53rd birthday tomorrow. I always say that it is appropriate that I was born on All Saints Day. My wife says I was born a few hours too late because there’s too much of that little devil in me.

Anyway, as I fought fears of frostbite, I was thinking about what had been going on within the triads and in the class this past week or so and during past quarters. I’ve been pouring over written student self-evaluation evaluations, end-of-quarter evaluations, some student journals, bumping into veterans from my other classes and talking with them, and just reflecting on my own experiences as I walk or struggle with the scales on my flute.

It seems that whatever the students wrote or said, they always felt that they learned more history in the triad-oriented class than in any other class. But having said that, I noticed that they always zeroed in on the personal associations that developed in the class and within the triad. The words that obviously had most meaning to them were those of emotions and intentions, words that dreams and hopes are made of, words that touched their spirit, words such as “care,” “concern,” “knowing,” “sharing”, “responsibility,” “personal,” and “friendship.” But, above all, so many talked of beginning the class, as they do every class, feeling that they were “alone” and, unlike other classes, ended it feeling as a member of what they frequently and warmly and tenderly called a “family” and “community.”

“Family and “community,” I think, explain the mysterious and exciting happenings that often evolve in many of the triads and in the entire class. These words say to me that many of the students may be changing or facing a challenge to change on a much more profound level than simply engaging in a cooperative effort to learn a subject, pass a test, write up an assignment, or earn a passing grade. They seem to be undergoing a change of consciousness that allows them to develop a different relationship with themselves and with others. This is what the students are telling each other and me. One student, Karen, who took the class this summer, told me Friday, “I got to meet new people, really got to know them. The triad got us into some really deep thinking beyond just learning the material. It made us all analyze our personalities, our future thoughts, our goals. It helped me grow as a person. It was hard to adjust to, but I got to love it.” Meat, that’s his nickname, got up in class Friday after the quiz and wanted to read a journal entry aloud: “I really like this class. I felt alone at first like in the other classes. But here it’s fun to learn, and you learn a lot, and you get to know about a person more than he or she just being in the same room. You get to know their personal life and about your own. Our triad had a discussion last night about some personal stuff and found that we weren’t alone in our feelings and could help each other.” Now, keep in mind I’m not a trained sociologist, psychologist, or any other –ologist, and I haven’t collected statistical data in an objective and scientific study. Having said that, I do have some ideas, subjective as they may be. So, I’m going to go out on a limb.

So many come to our campuses afflicted with a varying severity of “LD:” “L”earning “D”ependency. It’s a pernicious disability that drains the intellectual and emotional excitement, drive, energy, purpose and meaning from the student. Since attitudes have an effect on performance, this LD stunts or arrests intellectual development, academic achievement, and emotional growth. Blank faces, hollow gazes, silent voices, unexcited movements are the easily spotted physical symptoms of this malady. The intellectual disabilities are legion: shortage of creativity and imagination, deficient sense of curiosity, lack of initiative, weakened technical skills, addiction to dull and meaningless plodding, satisfaction with copying and memorizing and drill, preoccupation with test scores and grades, contentment with being controlled, inability to exercise empowerment. The emotional impediments fundamentally are a difficulty in believing in themselves, acceptance of mediocrity, a lack of pride, eroded self-confidence, weakened sense of self-worth, and an overriding fear of being wrong or “looking stupid.”

The causes of this LD are what I call a “woundedness”: physical woundedness inflicted by the chance throw of genes, accident, and disease; intellectual woundedness resulting from a less than supportive educational system that plays with students in dumb-smart games; emotional, mental and spiritual woundedness resulting from a host of personal, social, and family situations, pressures, abuses and prejudices.

In that woundedness, the students often think they are the only ones in the world with pain. They feel separated from everyone else; they feel different. A sense of isolation envelopes them in an opaque emotional curtain that doesn’t allow them to see others and makes them think others cannot see them. They believe that other people don’t want them, don’t want to listen, don’t care about them, aren’t concerned with them. They feel mediocre at best, worthless at worst. So they hide in silence; they hide in aloneness. So many have been betrayed and hurt and demeaned; so many have learned to build defenses of varying thicknesses and heights. The walls that protect, however, also isolate and restrict.

I think students who feel isolated, or isolate themselves, perform at lower levels. I find that anything which promotes isolation and perpetuates loneliness is debilitating. Anything that promotes a sense of intimacy, connectedness, community can be releasing, exhilarating, and in some cases healing.

Participation in a triad and sharing, however uncomfortable and challenging, is good for everyone. As I form the triads at the beginning of each quarter, I see so many frightened, lonely, self-denigrating people. They are uneasy about participating in a group. Their isolating woundedness does not make it easy for them to rely on someone else. They are at first very reluctant to begin to make connections with others, to begin to rely upon others, much less to address and begin to talk of their personal issues. But, at least in my classes, they cannot hide from me or each other. They must deal with my “blueberries”; they must look at each other and talk with each other; they must see that there is a face on the other side of that head sitting in front of them in a traditional arranged classroom; they must get to know at least each other’s names; and, they must work together. Yet, eventually, for many, it seems that each of their woundedness affords the opportunity. Many want to reach out, but never knew how or were too scared to try. They want to share with each other and trust each other, and to find support and encouragement in each other. It’s as if the triad contains a comforting salve. Many find they can trust another person because they can sense that the others, too, have woundedness, have pain, have fear. Out of that trust many begin to pay attention to their own wounds and each other’s, to teach and be taught, to make the effort, and to start to discover the wondrous potential that lies within them. As associations and friendships form, they start thinking about their feelings, share themselves, let the walls down, and start testing their abilities. They invite the others into their loneliness. They get to know each other and gain insight into themselves and others they may never have gotten. I see emerging relationships between strangers put together by me but brought together by their attitudes and finding each other through their struggles and sufferings.

I’m trying to create a situation where the students feel better about coming out from behind their walls, share who they really are and not be socially isolated, and risk discovering the extent of their native learning potential. We are separate, distinct individuals, but at the same time we are social beings. If our craft is to be noble, its purpose must be noble. I cannot think of anything more noble than to assist the process of making the individual whole, to help bring together not only intellectual, emotional and physical parts of the individual, but to bring individuals together and instill a sense of community.

I am struck by the students’ constant use of the word “family.” It seems that many of the students are breaching the isolating, inhibiting and demeaning “walls of loneliness” with a powerful, supportive, encouraging sense of community. It is hard to believe that such a simple idea as “community,” of sharing, seems to have such a powerful impact and a dramatic effect for so many.

CLASS HAPPENINGS

It was deliciously brisk this morning. The late Saturday morning air was fresh and clean, having been washed by a torrential evening downpour. The chill was just enough to excite my bare skin, enough to make everything feel alive, enough to sharpen my mind. After the months of debilitating heat and humidity, this encounter with autumn, however brief, is exhilarating. And though I had to walk between occasional rain drops, nothing could dampen my soaring spirits. I walked like I had wings on my heels, not just because of the uplifting climate, but because I can’t get my students out of my mind.

I can’t stop thinking of Marguretta, normally quiet in class, who, as we were discussing the ante-bellum South, raised the issue of the demeaning slave mentality and how it related to and compared with the black experience since the Civil war and to racial issues on campus; of Heather, who made the connection with women’s issues. As she said, “it’s no different from what we face as women around here and in our families” and raised the issue of women’s rights; of ——- who then told the class of how struggles with an unsupportive, demanding husband affects her sense of self- worth, her performance, and hinders her efforts “to make something of myself, other than just to serve others as a wife and mother and cook, that I can be proud of;” of Holly who carried the idea on to include students and said, “and as students we were told to be quiet because we didn’t have much worth saying. And most of us still believe that stuff we were handed from the teachers. And darned if it still isn’t that way in almost all the classes on this campus;” of Matika who took the discussion in another direction and talked about children being treated, as she said, “nothin’ but garbage” and got us to think about the effects of child abuse; and of…….who talked haltingly about her abusive childhood horrors.

“Let me tell you about being mixed,” said Pryn as he jumped in. When he was finished, Ivelysse and Sylvia added their perspective of being Latin-Americans. Then, Ben told of being Catholic in a small south Georgia town and how it created a reverse prejudice in him. “It looks like there are still a lot of Know-Nothings around,” he concluded.

I can’t stop thinking of Sharon who burst out in tears demanding, pleading, shouting that we should all start to see each other for who we are and not for how we look. “How many of you are prejudiced?” she sobbingly asked. Everyone raised his/her hands, myself included. “Well, why? And what are you doing about it?” Wow, that triggered a vigorous discussion that lasted two days about the origins of racial prejudice, regional prejudice, religious prejudice and prejudice in general in this country. And these are supposedly freshmen who “aren’t university material.” There was Barbara who said to me as I was passing out the weekly quiz last Friday, “I have to say something to the class. Dr. Schmier, the quiz can wait. This is much more important.” Then she got up and said:

“I just want to tell you guys that last night in the library our triad talked honestly about what was going on in class for the last few days. It got real emotional and we were crying with each other. We decided that we have to respect each other and understand why we think and do things the way each of us does, and that we each have a heritage of our own and a heritage that we share, and that we ought to be proud of both of them equally, and we should celebrate them every day as a reminder of what we have accomplished. We’re good with each other now. Natasha, me, and Trey feel like we’re one and a family, and will be there for each other. And I want you to know what we did and I think each of the triads ought to do the same thing.”

And these are freshman who so many say “only know how to copy.”

There was Laquanda who came to me at the start of Wednesday’s class and told me she had something to say to the class. And she did. With a great deal of courage and humility, she walked up to the front of the room and she said that she had been “firmly spoken to” by some of her African-American friends in class whom she respected after her outbreak of anger the previous day during the discussion about slaves and racism and women, that she had telephoned home and spoken to her father that evening seeking comfort and support. Instead, he “gave me a yellin’ at.” She told the class that she had stayed up all night “doing some heavy thinking about why I have a ‘log-size’ chip on my shoulder,” and with tears in her eyes saying, “this is hard because I never done this before,” that “I have to admit I am wrong with my attitude and apologize to anyone I might have hurt with my cruel words.” And she is a freshman who “just wants a grade.”

And there was Arden who answered a class-mate protesting that we weren’t talking about the “facts in the book that you’re going to quiz us on”:

That’s our responsibility to get that stuff out from the book as a triad,” was his answer. “In class, we’re learning more history than I ever did in any class. We’re using the facts and understanding Dr. Schmier’s ‘whys’ and our ‘whys,’ not just memorizing them to pass a quiz or test. I’m starting to see how we’re linked so close to the decisions others made in the past. It’s like a movie, and I’m part of it. We’re using the book as a springboard to discuss all kinds of issues and how those facts influence me and you. We’re learning a lot of history, but we’re also learning about life and about ourselves. I know a lot of us really look forward to coming to this class.

And he’s a freshman who “doesn’t care about learning.”

I can’t stop thinking of Regal who missed class and, in tears, tackled me as I crossed the campus. “Dr. Schmier, I know everyone in the triad sinks or swims together, but don’t punish the others in my triad because I screwed up and didn’t hand in my part of the assignment. Give me the “F.” I deserve it. I failed them. But, it’s not their fault. I swear I won’t do it again.”

I can’t stop thinking of Chrissy, Elana, Elaine, Calvert, Greg, Mike, Ivelysse, Natasha, Yolanda, Melanie, Melinda, Shannon, Jeff, Peter and a bunch of others who participated in these wondrous reflections and discussions. Some contributed a phrase, a word, a sentence. Some bared their souls. Some gave discourses. Some offered insight. If I were to tell how each participated and contributed, I’d have to write a transcription of a week for two classes. I talked very little these past days. I just stood on the side and watched with respectful awe. These “poorly prepared” freshmen initiated and carried on all the discussions; these “unskilled” freshmen did all the connecting; and these freshmen “who can’t think for themselves” asked all the questions of each other; they did all the analyzing. I am so proud of them. I always start each quarter with great anxiety, wondering if things in class will successfully work out with this particular group of students, if the perseverance will pay off, if having to defend myself will be worthwhile. Things are starting to work out and pay off in this class, and these great people are worth the effort. Even most of them feel it.

Yeah, this has been one heck of a week or so, maybe a watershed week, for almost everyone, including me. I am not sure I really have the ability to describe the spirit that embraced all my classes. All I can say is that sometimes, when and if it clicks, it sure does click. It has been a difficult week, a good week, a tiring week, an exciting week, a rewarding week, a satisfying week, a fulfilling week, and a magnificent week. It has been a week of great intellectual curiosity and exploration, of high academic accomplishment, of deep emotional self-examination and discovery, of extensive social struggle and growth. It has been a week of courage, honesty, trust, openness, sharing, humility. This has been a week of debate, argument, admonishment, discomfort, pain, anger and tears. It has been a week of laughter, joy and camaraderie. This has been a week of communication, the beginning of mutual understanding, and, hopefully, of some healing. I now am beginning to see in so many eyes, unfortunately by no means all, a gleam where there was once emptiness, a brightness on once bland faces, smiles on once stoic lips. And, I see others now struggling to have that gleam, brightness and smile. Some remain bumps on a log. “But,” said Lisa, “we’ll work on them. We owe them that much, to try.”

TEACHING AND RESEARCH

This has been a heck of a week or so. As I have been roaming the darkened streets during these last ten days, I have been reflecting on the exciting happenings that have occurred in my classes. To be honest, I just haven’t been in the mood to sit down and write. Maybe a low-level reaction to a flu shot had something to do with it. Maybe it was being emotionally drained from working closely with a particularly large number of students on their personal issues: listening to them; sharing my personal experiences with them; and though I never offer advice, getting some of them to see the need to talk with a professional. Then, again, maybe it was a subtle fear of not being able to “keep it up,” of losing my spontaneity and feeling the demon of contrivance breathing over my shoulder as I sit at the computer.

Then, this morning, I received a “sign.” I had been thinking about an e-mail message from a professor about research v. teaching. He said something to the effect that his mind was sinking because the students were bringing him down to their low level of active knowledge and he could not find much excitement in teaching them. Ostensibly, the professor was talking about research v. teaching. In reality, his message reflected his demeaning attitude towards students, the second class status he gave to real teaching, and how he felt the demands of being attentive to the needs of students encroached on what he considered more prestigious research and publication activities. I have to admit that my immediate action was to write a blistering response. But, I heard a voice inside saying, “Louis, take it easy. Stop and think. Don’t be so arrogant, so self-righteous. Don’t be so dishonest.”

It would have been a dishonest response because I had been there once, saying that I had to research to “keep my mind alive.” In fact, it wasn’t my mind with which I had been concerned so much as it was my ego and desire for recognition. The responses to my efforts to introduce innovative programs, to experiment with costumed presentations in my classes, to develop inter-disciplinary courses had been ignored as “non-professional.”

There is so little reputation in teaching, so little impact on promotion and tenure, so little influence on salary. And to be really honest, as I approach retirement here at the university and my scholarly reputation has waned because I have given up research and publication in order to concentrate on my classes, I ask who would want to hire a teacher rather than a reputed ever-publishing scholar. It’s scary.

Anyway, I remember saying to myself and my “better students,” in those days, as this professor wrote, “research is making me a better teacher.” Heck, it may have made me a better lecturer, a better transmitter of subject information, but not necessarily a better teacher. It wasn’t helping me adequately and properly address the needs of the students. Perhaps worse, during all those years when I concentrated on research at the expense of my classes, it may even have made me more distant from those students who needed me the most, more arrogant and disdaining towards them. So, I was thinking about all this today when, after I finished my walk and went to get my newspaper, I found a short letter stuck in the box. I’d like to share it with you. That letter was the sign:

Damn you, Dr. Schmier! I came into your class thinking I was going to get what I get in all my other classes, the usual lecture, fact, memorize for the test, quickly forget the stuff kind of class ruled by what my friends said was a hard, unreasonable son-of-a-bitch who didn’t care anything about the students. I was ready to be bored, and I was ready to be angry and I was ready to play the game and I was ready to waste my money. I wasn’t ready for you. I wasn’t ready for the way the class ran. And I sure as hell wasn’t ready for me. I came into the class to memorize historical facts, and you give us lessons on life! You and your damn triads. I’ve learned more in this class than in all my other classes combined. But, you’ve forced us to learn how to cooperate with each other, to be more compassionate with others, to hear other’s opinion, to debate our position, to learn to think. But, worst and better, to evaluate ourselves and look at ourselves. That I hated, but that’s what I needed because I had to admit that I was strangulating me. I said at the beginning damn you, it was a nice damn you. I really mean thank you for being concerned enough to care about me. It was crazy but when we were talking in class about the submissive slave mentality and then ——— said she knew exactly what that meant being a woman and treated in the same way and we talk some about that and then ——–said something like as students we were taught that the teachers were our masters, inside I felt myself saying, “hey that’s all me, too. And add my family to that.” Then, you pulled me over after class for a talk, it blew my mind as if you could read my thoughts. At first, I said to myself, “here comes the rah-rah lecture.” But, all you did was to ask, “what’s going on? Why aren’t you giving it what you’re capable of doing? Why don’t you believe in your self?” And then waited for an answer. None of the usual routine lecture, none of the noble advice, all you did was just to wait to listen. It really surprised me that I opened up to you, a stranger, and all you did was to listen. I was stunned that all you did was to share with me your own experiences. I found out that I wasn’t alone. I mean you respected me enough to have the guts to spill yours. I guess I figured if you could do that with me, I could take the chance and do it with you. I was really touched when you warmly said you weren’t a know it all and couldn’t help but suggested I go to the councilor and when I reluctantly agreed you walked with me to make an appointment. You forced me to start opening doors I would have preferred to stay closed but I really knew had to be opened. And I found someone caring enough just to listen and to give me the courage to put my hand on the knob and slowly start to turn it and see what I am really made of. You always say in class that you can’t succeed until you’re ready to risk failure. Well, I think I’m about to start getting ready. I’m scared. So, I ask only please stay on top of me and don’t go easy. I can’t do it alone–yet. I trust you not to give up on me or anyone else in class. You are a son-of-a bitch, but a special one.

To the professor who thinks, as I once rationalized to myself, that teaching lowers his ability, I ask him to think about this letter. I can tell you that no research grant, no conference paper, no award, no reputation, no book or article, no promotion or salary increase is as rewarding, satisfying, fulfilling, exciting, encouraging, stimulating.

I have come to realize from reflecting on my own personal experiences inside and outside class that it hurts to have someone look at you who sees so little worthwhile, whose eyes and demeanor say, “You’re a drag. If it weren’t for you I’d be off doing something meaningful, some important research and acknowledged writing.” When students leave the class, when those uncaring eyes are no longer looking, the imprint still remains deep in the soul. And if they are looked at long enough that way, they begin to look at themselves as those eyes did; they find it difficult to go the mirror and see someone worthwhile. They become small in their own eyes because of those eyes. The loss of self grows. But, why should they have to go through that dehumanizing experience and I shouldn’t have to combat it. Nothing so beautiful as a student should be made to feel less than something that deserves respect. I work hard to help students get back that feeling that there is something worthy, beautiful about each of them. Wouldn’t it be so simple for teachers and professors to care? It’s easy to stand off and say that it’s the students responsibility to learn. It is that kind of thinking that allows us to shirk responsibility. It is that kind of thinking that blames the victim for being victimized. It’s the same kind of thinking that is directed towards the rape victim, towards the homeless, towards the poor, towards the ignorant, and towards the student.

We don’t always address the students’ problems by dealing with what causes them. Most campus counselors will say off the record that so many professors don’t want to be bothered with such things, that they feel that it’s not their concern. But, if you start with the assumption that intellectual ability and academic performance is the professor’s sole concern, you won’t ask certain questions. You won’t realize that you are using one-dimensional terms to discuss a three-dimensional reality. But, if you believe, as I do, that attitude is an integrated and inseparable part of performance, then there are a whole new set of questions to be asked. We can’t perform emotional surgery. Intellectual performance is married to what students say, think, feel and do. Attitude affects performance and performance affects attitude. But, I don’t think they are separate; it’s not one and/or the other; it’s how they are related. I’m getting nervous because I’m neither a philosopher nor a psychologist, and I feel myself approaching another realm and discipline. I am getting nervous because I am not the honest man carrying a lamp in the night. But, from what I have observed in my classes, from my conversations with students, from students evaluations and criticism, it’s just so obvious that it needs to be said because all students are important. They all are building blocks of society. We must not be satisfied with describing student and professorial behavior. We must be concerned with why so many students lack self-confidence, self-motivation; with why are so many students are silent in class. Perhaps it has something to do with their past educational experience. Maybe it has something to do with family issues. We can begin to ask questions about how they got into this situation and what we as teachers can do to address the issue on a fundamental level.

It’s ridiculous to theorize, philosophize, rationalize, intellectualize about education and teaching without dealing with the humanity, the strengths and weaknesses of those to be educated and the educators; without addressing those things that can make both students and us wholesome.

ON BECOMING A UNIVERSITY

As I was gliding over the asphalt this morning, I happened to look up and catch sight of a colorful and artful banner eerily spotlighted in a field of black by the lamp post it was bedecking. Surrounding a decorative logo, were the words: “Celebrate Valdosta State University.” It is one of hundreds that are still hanging from every light and telephone pole on the streets surrounding the campus. They were part of the celebrations marking the college’s attainment of university status. It was quite a show. On July 1st, after months of meticulous preparation, utilizing time and energy that rivaled a presidential inauguration, with all the glitz of a Wal-Mart opening, with the sights and sounds of a gala debutante ball, a bar mitzvah, a confirmation, and a sweet sixteen party all wrapped up into one, Valdosta State College became Valdosta State University! It was a media event that resembled one of the 1930s film extravaganzas. There were laser beam shows, rock bands, food tables, balloons, orating politicians, puffed-up administrators, receptions, hot-air balloon races, road races, faculty rushing to alter their vitae, souvenirs, a huge celebration cake, fund raising, roaming crowds, secreted fraternity alcohol, fraternity bashes, a final count down, and the inevitable fireworks. So few questions about to what purpose, lots of assumptions.

I’ve seen those banners and posters and God knows what else everywhere I’ve gone for the last four months, but I guess a conversation with some students the other day in the Blazer Room about what the idea of what a university meant to them made me particularly aware of that banner this morning. Part of our discussion went like this:

“I wouldn’t have come to VSU if I had to graduate last year,” one freshman admitted.

“Why?” I asked.

“Well, it wasn’t a university.”

“Does that make a difference?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Coming from a university looks better than having gone to just a college.”

“Why?” I asked.

“My diploma would look more impressive.”

“Why?” I asked.

“It means more to people.”

“So?” I asked.

“It’ll be easier to get a better job.”

“So?” I asked.

“I can make more money.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I can be happier!”

With each set of questions and answers the students were giving me looks and twisting their faces as if I were becoming an increasing menace.

“Damn, Dr. Schmier, can’t you say anything more than ‘why’ and ‘so’?”

Finally, I said, using an approach I learned at my son’s school, “What if I could give you all the money that would make you happy, on the condition you could not get a job? Would you still come to the university?”

They were confused. There were strange looks at me and each other; there was silence; there was hesitation; then, there were the stammering “uh…well…uhs.”

These students will go into the world on the treadmills of success that we have helped to construct, operate and perpetuate, believing that happiness is connected with material gain. The tragedy is that we too often are reinforcing their visions and values. They and I hear the same words coming out from our Admissions Office, Counseling Office, and Student Affairs Office; from our President, Vice-Presidents, Deans, Department Heads, and too many faculty. I hear these same words from local legislators, businessmen, parents, and community leaders. I hear teachers, principals, members of Boards of Education, and Superintendents talk eloquently of “university track” and disparagingly of “vo-tech track.” I hear it from other institutions rushing to acquire loftier titles, develop bigger programs, enhance reputations, inflate egos, grab the respect and clout lacking in being a mere community college or junior college or vocational school or a college. They are all charmed by the flowing pronunciation of the “U” word; they are seduced by their assumption of the meaning of the word; they are enticed by the marketability of the word to attract students and sell job-seekers; they are satisfied by the uncritical image of the word. Make a wish upon a star, click your ruby glass shoes together three times, wave a magic wand, just change the name from college to university, and the institution automatically becomes a better place to get better credentials to get a better job to better keep up with the Joneses. So few questions about meanings and purposes, so many assumptions.

While some people are satisfied with the image of the word, others are satisfied with the “objects” associated with the “U” word. “Come see our university,” say our recruiters and Foundation personnel. They take prospective students and their parents, prospective donors, and alumni on tours of “objects.” A professor or even a student can walk by their entourage. Is he or she stopped and introduced to offer a human dimension to the institution? No. Our tour guides are too busy pointing at objects. “Our student body is this big”; “we have these many fraternities and sororities”; “have you seen the national standings of our so and so team”; “we have so many attractive buildings”; “see that fountain”; “look at our lovely grounds”; “all that grass, all those trees and flowers”; “here are the labs”; “see all those computers”; “we have so and so many Ph.D.s on our faculty”; “our professors go to so many conferences and give so many papers.” Still, so few questions and lots of assumptions.

Some people speak with pride about what I call the “toys” of the “U” word. They brag about the growing number of programs, degrees, and courses. Everything has to be on a professional track: the pre-thises, the pre-thats, and the pre-everything elses. The “toys” are all designed to provide the most efficient and effective way of making the students marketable, to package them, to give to the students the tools to make it “big” out there. Still, so few questions and lots of assumptions.

But, I don’t think the “image,” “object” or “toys” of the “U” word constitutes the essence of the “U” word. So few of us are concerned with the substance of a university: to liberate us from images; to break our chains of preoccupation with objects; to enlighten us about the purpose and meaning of the tools, rather than just how to use the tools; to endow us with broadened understanding, rather than limit us with barreled sight; to instill in us a love of learning rather than just a technical skill; to launch us on a never-ending adventure of self-development, rather than end the quest with a diploma; to expand the range of our experience, not to narrow it; to urge us to take the risk of challenging and examining uncritically held assumptions, not just playing the game or going with the flow. Above all, a university is a place to find a calling, a life’s work, to combine the technology with the substance. A university is not just a place to get a job, but a place concerned with the kind of job that is done and with the character of the person doing the job, of being concerned with the deeper visions of pride in craftsmanship of the skills needed to produce or provide, the deeper dimension of dedication to excellence of what is produced and provided, and the deeper values of concern for and ethical dealings with all others. It’s bad enough that students think that a course is valuable only if it satisfies a major requirement. But, if they walk across the graduation stage thinking, “Wow, I’m finished with this rat race. I’m educated; I’m a professional. Now, I’m going to be a so and so, and make as much money as I can by hook or by crook, no matter what I have to do to get it or matter whom I have to run over,” they did not receive a true university education. If we professors tell them that a course is valuable only if it fulfills a department requirement and watch them walk across the stage thinking, “They’ve completed their so and so major with a so and so GPA average and are now getting the degree that’s going to open doors for a good job,” then we have not given those students a true university education. The students have been brain-washed; we have brain-washed. Maybe, we have been brainwashed as well. Still, so few questions, a lot of assumptions.

None of us have asked ourselves or others about the meanings, the “what is the good of it all?” I’d like to have a conversation with students that would go something like this:

“What is the good of coming to VSU?” I would ask.

“To be the best I can be?”

“Why?” I would ask.

“To help others.”

“Why?” I would ask.

“To leave the world a better place.”

MORE ON TOMMY

I called Tommy last week. I wanted to see if he had signed up for that drama or communications course. He hadn’t. I wasn’t surprised. He told me that his adviser wouldn’t agree. He had to take another accounting course. When I asked why hadn’t he ignored his adviser and telephone registered by himself, he said he had talked with his parents and they had agreed with the adviser. So, as he said, “I just went along.”

“You knew what you had to do. You have to start taking control of your own future,” I told him with a sadness in my voice.

A day or two later, I received a letter from Tommy arguing his case for a better grade. Portions of it went like this:

Evan (sic) though I did learn a lot about history and learned to be more responsible, I think I missed one of the main points of the class, and that was to stand up and be more aggressive and to not be afraid to say what you feel. When I first got my grade I was really ticked off. I knew that history, but when I talked to you on the phone I realized that you have to go after what you want and you just can’t sit around and expect a grade. I have to stop being afraid of being wrong if I’m ever going to do anything that’s right. I guess I just didn’t trust anyone in my triad or you. I guess I thought your class would be like the rest of the classes that I had before. But, you were the first teacher who has seen me in class even though I tried to hide by being quiet. You moved around in class and looked at me. That scared me even though I never told you. You thought more of me than I did of myself, more than my adviser or parents. Like I said, I thought this was just another class only with chairs moved around and a weird teacher, but I found I was wrong and it was a different kind of learning experience in more ways than just history. I’ve given this a lot of thought and I’ve learned a lot about myself even though it was after the quarter was over….You might not realize it but you’ve helped me a lot in my future classes and you will never see me sitting around in class even if it causes a fight. The teacher will know I’m there! Thanks for caring.

I called Tommy soon after I read the letter. “You see I really learned something,” he said about my attitude. “I’m going to take that drama course next quarter. I’m going to take a chance in my classes and start believing. Now can I get a better grade?”

“No,” I said. “Talking is easy; it’s walking that’s tough. But, this is what I will do. You take your classes for the next two quarters. I’ll talk with the professors. If what you say isn’t bull shit, I’ll call it ‘effort and performance after the fact.’ And, then, I’ll change your grade.”

“That’s fair enough. You watch!”

“Good luck, and I’m here if you need an ear or a shoulder. Have a good one.”

“You, too. And thanks again.”