Last semester I taught three classes. (Usually I teach 7 a year, with three one semester and four the other). There were my ten senior researchers working on their 25 page papers. Fifteen students explored the world of public history in museums, archives, cemeteries and on the web. And twenty first year students studied Ancient Greece, Israel and Rome in a team-taught college-wide Humanities course.
I had forgotten how broad a reach those courses would be. Students choose their own research seminar topics, so I read about the War of 1812, the Oneida religious community, Irish politics, the Civil War, school desegregation in Louisiana, and federal theatre in the New Deal, among other topics. Add in public history readings about building stone walls or the politics of commemoration and then Humanities reading from the Iliad, the Bible and Plato’s Republic and you realize my semester ranged across three continents and 3000 years.
My time in Korea was a great reminder of the value of a liberal arts education. I had to know a little about a dozen scholarly areas, and be able to locate information and create opinions on everything else. I had forgotten how true that was in my U.S. teaching as well. Both my Korean and U.S. students also had to be convinced that the work I required them to do really was likely to help them in some way later on. It was far more obvious to the Korean students that they would use English than that my U.S. students would use the Iliad. But the joy and value of the liberal arts is that you never know exactly what you will use - the future is not yet shaped. Having a broad base of shared knowledge gives you more to draw from as you try to apply the past in creative ways to solve future problems.
I miss my Korean students. Ji Jae-yong, Lee Jin-mi, Yon Doo-hui, I Gyu-chan, Na Kyung-min, Son Min-kyung and dozens of others. Some still write, sending pictures of themselves and of department events. I try to keep in touch with as many as I can.
My experiences in Korea reminded me how much teaching is really about mentoring, about helping a student to fulfill both their academic and personal potential. At its base, teaching is about building relationships, getting students to trust that you have their best interests at heart. The relationships with the students, in the present and the future, make teaching worth doing - for the people on both sides of the desk.
January 25, 2009
I ended 2008 with a good portion of my life in boxes - again! This time the move was shorter - less than 500 yards across campus from one former convent building to another. A new space meant new relationships - a new faculty secretary, new colleagues down the hall. It also meant new patterns -I walk different paths across campus, I teach in the same building with my office, I have files and chairs in different configurations.
There is a Chinese saying “Three moves is equal to a fire”. I always assumed this referred to the amount of stuff that gets discarded with each move, slowly whittling down to the essentials. I am beginning to wonder if it also means that moves, like fires, provide a chance for regeneration, removing the dead wood and allowing new and luxurious growth. After eight years in the same office and building, perhaps my routines needed to be shaken up a little (my books definitely needed to be thinned out!) Walking new routes brings me to new corners of campus - I see the familiar with different eyes.
That was clearly my experience going to and coming back from Korea. Taking a year away from campus meant I resigned from all my committees, I gave up my advisees, and I set off to teach courses I had never taught before in a place I did not know. I expected to grow and change in all that newness. What I had not fully thought about was how new campus would be when I returned - all new committees, all new advisees, two years of new colleagues and new students to get to know. At least for one semester I had my old office with its familiar patterns and comforts. Now that too is changed.
Regeneration may be necessary, but it is not easy. It requires loss. I find I miss terribly some pieces of my time in Korea. Some are obvious, like the free time created by a smaller teaching load. That free time meant trips to the public baths, cultural events, dinner with students, Korean films. I miss the daily walk past the women selling vegetables, the two French bakeries, the supermarket on my way home. Green tea chiffon cake. Seollantang (beef soup) and date-ginseng tea when I’m sick. Grilled samgyeopsal (spicy pork) with friends. But I also miss the openness to change that came with my Korean experience - the excitement of seeing and doing new things all the time. It is as if, having done “new” for a year, I find it much harder to deal with change here at home.
So as I write in my new office, I try to re-open myself to the excitement of the new, to the value of seeing things with a different eye. There is discomfort and loss - and disorientation. But as with my time in Korea, the rewards, the growth, are worth it. Or will be when I unpack the last box.
January 14, 2009