crusade

Nothing unites people like a common enemy. And apparently secular people like me make great uniters.

The religious saga in my hometown is far from over; in fact, it's simmering quite nicely. Tell me, what's at your high school's entrance? A sign, a marquee perhaps, an image of your mascot. How about a large bronze sculpture of Jesus? A sculpture of Jesus, albeit on private property, just outside a public school that recently reached a compromise concerning a religious image in the office. That might be what people see when they drive to good old JG, if a community member has her way.

Apparently it isn't a protest, but "a positive memorial to the faith of the community." Hmm, I think NC has some of those already. They're called churches, and $30,000 could do a lot to restore and rejuvenate them. Why pay for a bronze statue, when you can make a positive impact on existing monuments? Better yet, give that money to the students! Books, technology, writing workshops, scholarships! Now that's positive.

Two weeks ago, I had some students read aloud excerpts from Pope Urban II's call to the First Crusade. You can read one translation of the speech here. The class squirmed at the graphic violence mentioned to foment religious vengeance. They timidly answered my questions about Urban's motives and persuasion. The promise of heaven is quite a bargain.

But it wasn't just a mission for salvation. It was a land grab; the Latins, as we call Western European Christians at the time, wanted to take territory back from the Muslims. (Territory once held by the Eastern Roman Empire, the Byzantines.) And they held Jerusalem as a Latin kingdom, for a while. It was also a fortuitous distraction from Christian versus Christian violence. Marauding bands of warriors, no longer quite as necessary in a more peaceful Europe, could point their swords eastward. And they practiced their craft on Jewish communities as they made their way to the Holy Land.

Togetherness. Community. Likemindedness. Wrapped in zealotry and stabbing and beheading. How heroic... 

The crusade in my hometown is of a different nature, not violent, but just as zealous. Seriously, our mascot is crusading on teeshirts, now, literally taking up the Cross. There is also a chain dangling down below the fishy fist, perhaps as a symbol of the oppression Christians face today, and have subsequently overcome? I guess the redesign is meant to "put back" the religion thought to have been flushed from the school, but all I see is "Grrr! Jesus!" Not exactly the same message found in the Gospels. It's one thing for an individual athlete to pray or to thank God for that touchdown. It's another to imply that the mascot, the school, the entire community, ascribe to the same beliefs. That's exclusivity, and while it appears to unite, it actually divides.

Four Seasons Graphics has sold these shirts and raised money for a local food pantry. At least some good came of it. What good will come from a bronze statue near campus?

Maybe there is no room for argument here, at least not in legal terms. If the statue is on private property, then it is not a direct statement by the school district. Just as the Muskie teeshirts, sold by a third party, are not official...but both, if the statue is completed, are allowed by the district. No district action, as far as I know, has yet been taken to stop either one.

Some have questioned the legality of altering a school mascot, and I get that. I need to look into trademarks for high schools, because while Ohio State has a choke-hold on their Block O, I do not know of any legal standing regarding the Muskies. In fact, I'm rather nervous having the design's image on my blog now, but you really have to see it to believe it.

All I can say, to (hopefully) wrap up this series of diatribes, is this:

Please, by all means, worship freely and proudly. What you do on Sunday, or what you think/believe/pray any other day of the week, is a personal matter. However, as a teacher or administrator or community leader, you have the responsibility to be inclusive, impartial, and above all, understanding when acting in official capacity. Judging which expressions of faith or opinion are acceptable is not your call. You tripped up on this one, and a student called you out. I wish the ACLU never got involved, but what's done is done. Why invite more controversy? Why repeat the mistakes that led to moving a memorial, and more importantly, losing the trust of students and the community?

In case you forgot, the Latins lost to Saladin in 1187, not even a century after Urban II urged them to take the Cross. The city of Jerusalem is still a hot bed for violence and extremism today; we're like kindergartners refusing to share, only the blocks and dolls are people's homes, places of worship, and lives.

It's the wall, not the image, that should be neutral.

Logo of Al Jazeera America from america.aljazeera.com

During our discussion of Islamic art, I showed the above image to my class along with my typical infuriating questions: what do you think? Why do you think that? So take a moment, and pretend you're my student.

What do you think? How does the image make you feel? Scared? Threatened? Did you just think of terrorism?

Now why did you think that? Some might not be able to get past the common spelling and sound of "Al" in Al Jazeera and Al Qaeda, for instance. I must assure you that this is natural. Especially after 9/11, I cannot blame anyone for that initial, gut reaction. However, I encourage you to recognize why Arabic words and calligraphy stir those feelings, and how you associate a television logo with a terrorist organization.

Then there was that wonderful moment after I played audio of Sura (Chapter) 18 of the Koran. A student raised her hand and said she thought it sounded quite beautiful. She liked the abstract design of the calligraphy and the spiritual qualities that abstract design can impart. Yes.

That's what I mean when I talk about the power of an image. It can scare you, and it can cause you to think beyond the gut reaction. But if images were completely neutral, we wouldn't have much of a visual culture. We wouldn't have the great, iconic images of our own history that express the proverbial thousand words even without any text.

Kent State, 1970

Rosie the Riveter

But with great power, comes great responsibility. Artists of course are responsible for the images they create, just as viewers are responsible for the images they view. Furthermore, teachers like me are responsible for presenting such images in an academic context, one that nurtures critical thinking beyond gut reactions.

I've written before, pleading for skepticism of facebook memes. That is an example of viewer responsibility. We don't get a "dislike" option, so often the posting of an image is taken as a sign of agreement (unless you accompany it with a rant, like I do). The liking and sharing encouraged on facebook is not invalid as expression, mind you, but it is the expression of gut reactions. Good, bad, beautiful, ugly, agree, disagree...these aren't the products of in-depth analysis, but they are starting points.

Now what happens when the image in question touches on a controversial subject, and the artist is a high school student?

I'm talking about teeshirts, here. Teeshirts that were on display in my high school before the whole Jesus drama ensued. From what I understand of the project, the students were free to pick a topic important to them and create a silk-screen design for that topic. Once displayed to the student body, these teeshirts caused a lot of buzz. Isn't that a good thing? School isn't a protective bubble, especially high school, and what better time to start discussing major issues like gay rights and abortion than when you are young and under the direction of responsible educators?

Again, art has power. Images start conversations, create controversy, and, heck, 100 years ago a ballet started a riot in Paris. A ballet! Go ahead and Google Rite of Spring...

Apparently, some educators at JG are descendants of the Parisian rioters. If I understand correctly, some, but not all, of the teeshirts were taken down after students were unable to keep the discussion civil. Instead of direction, instead of education, the principal chose to blame the art. What a lovely lesson for tomorrow's leaders: "You are just mindless information receptacles. You have no power over your own behavior. You have no responsibility to analyze the issues put in front of you. The art made you do it."

That is a huge problem. That is not realistic. The idea that you can put away or destroy art, or anything you disagree with, is what prevents discussion and compromise. (Are you reading this, Congress?) For all our talk of a free society, I was quite frankly shocked by how a majority of my students not only recognized moments of iconoclasm in our culture, but condoned it when it was the government making the call. Essentially, they wrote on their papers "Some images should be banned, and the government should decide." Scary, right? That's not just a parent refusing to buy Tommy the latest "Grand Theft Auto." That reminds me of Entartete Kunst in Munich, the exhibition of "degenerate" modern art put on by Goebbels and Hitler.

Yeah, I just went there.

Neither side is as bad as Hitler, yet I do not want to see this adversarial approach grow unchecked. Forget riots in Paris; taking away religious objects has led to war. (Fine, go Google the dissolution of the monasteries in 16th century England).

It's a pretty good way to piss people off. No one is dying because their church has been torched, but the school in Jackson did have to pay $95,000 in punitive damages when the ACLU came around. That's money taken out of schools, away from education that should fix this mess. The ACLU swoops in at the very hint of promotion of a particular religion, blind to any other consideration, and JG really left itself open to it. I've seen comments from Christians saying that they do not want to see other religions included in schools. They think a portrait of Mohammed on the wall would be just terrible. Regardless of the fact that there are no portraits of Mohammed! Gah, it's an unyielding viewpoint paired with ignorance that I have a problem with here.

If anything, it boggles my mind how similar the mindsets of both sides are, religious right and secular left. Can we get a third option, here? Maybe a fourth?

Remember, these are the words of an idealist, and my grand solution--a school taking the reins and guiding students as they consider images they don't agree with--is contingent on the school being impartial. And I think it's pretty clear that JG has some partial administrators and educators...not to mention parents and other concerned adults. By equating a mass-produced picture (not even a painting) with your own personal faith, you see yourself attacked. Your way of life is threatened. You bemoan catering to the minority. Well, all that tells me is that our community is not ready to stop blaming the art (or making it your martyr) and start explaining our gut reactions.

How can we teach students to work through big issues if we ourselves are not capable of doing so together?

picture painting photograph

The local newspaper is reporting on the JG story now, and of course the comments have exploded like an atom bomb. There are my compatriots of course:

Really this is news ??? Hang a pic of Satan who cares ,just educate the kids ..you religious followers and apposers get fanatical about the dumbest things

There are BIGGER issues that should be addressed way before a picture in the office... Lots of rights violations... prejudicial issues, distinguishing treatment of individual(s) based on their race & community roots…

I heartily agree with your sentiment, if not with your grammar and spelling. Then there are these: 

No they should put one up on every wall !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Amber and Randy may you burn in Hell That's my religion don't like it tuff crap!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You stay classy, SE Ohio...classy and crazy. Here's my absolute favorite:

Jesus had his picture taken??? Kodak???

Thank you from the bottom of my heart; I needed that laugh! And the pièce de résistance:

No way.the teacher should be FIRED!!!!!!!!!!

Say what? Someone is commenting on an issue with which they have not wholly familiarized themselves. Shocker!

All right, my snark is over. Long story short, there has been an image titled The Lord is My Shepherd in my high school since the 1970s. I couldn't really remember it exactly, but my friends have helped me confirm that it is Warner Sallman's work. Frustratingly, the website does not list the painting's date or medium the way other museums and galleries would, but I'd say it is in the vicinity of 1941, the year Sallman painted the Head of Christ. The reproduction of The Lord is My Shepherd in the high school was originally dedicated to a beloved teacher. 

I'm still looking into more about her: Dad identified her as Margaret Barnett, a "pillar of Rix Mills Church." (Shout-out to the ancestral Elliott lands...) As a Latin and English teacher, I'm sure she would share my abhorrence of bad grammar. On matters of religion, we'd agree to disagree. Or, as my dear father told a fellow church-going man, "Don't bother talking to Debbie about religion; you won't win that argument." Whatever that means...

Back to a key word, and why my favorite comment is my favorite: reproduction. I highly doubt that the image in JG is an actual painting, and thus does not have the same value as the original (read here, it would not fetch over a million at auction like The Scream), so I hesitate to talk about it in art historical terms. However, I have a new pet peeve: the words picture, photo, and painting (heck, toss portrait in the mix) are not interchangeable. They each have a particular definition. Thus, I use the term picture, image, or reproduction.

But wouldn't it be cool if Jesus took a selfie and posted it on Instagram? It would also be cool if he could just diffuse this whole situation and remind people that whether the image is on the wall in a school or in a church, their faith (that thing protected by the First Amendment) is inside them, not the image. If we all remembered that, maybe we wouldn't be shouting at each other "Your goin 2 hell!!!!1!" and making ourselves look rather silly. 

Another gem from the comments. You just proved my point, madam.

No one took God out of schools. The courts did rule against school-led prayer. Christian or Muslim, it doesn't matter. No one will be led, but they may lead themselves. What's more important to you, really, stamping Jesus on every locker or actually acting like a Christian?

Crazy notions of Jesus-coated public schools aside, this is not a simple issue, no matter how many internet commenters type "end of story" or "period" after their opinions. Of course, the most immediate argument concerns the separation of church and state, and I'm purposely avoiding the argument over where the phrase "separation of church and state" originated...let's say it's an interpretation of the First Amendment and move on for now. It's precedent that raises the question: should a public school display a religious image? Court decisions on this topic point to "No." 

However, I would also ask: Does the presence of the image endorse the religion? Should the image's particular location within that school have any bearing on the argument? Should the ACLU be involved on the student's behalf? 

To complicate it further (as if parsing which hallways students use or threatening legal action weren't enough), there is a very specific function for this image: the commemoration of a teacher. There are of course such memorials in many school buildings; one internet comment that caught me as particularly salient brought up the portrait of John Glenn himself. By displaying and viewing his image, do we become Democrats like our former Democratic Senator? This, in my mind, is the real issue. What does the image actually do, and what are the responsibilities of the viewer and of the institution displaying the image?

Now, since I teach religious art on a regular basis, I have always been able to frame the religious subject matter in terms of history and visual culture. And I have for a while been asserting the ability of images to serve many different functions depending on their context. Why can schools such as my alma mater not present religious imagery in the same compartmentalized, educational context? Create an open forum for students to view The Lord is My Shepherd alongside their own images, directed by art teachers, history teachers, English teachers, oh my! Alongside examples of Islamic art, Buddhist art, whatever, just keep the dialogue going. They want to talk about it.

But would that satisfy the students who feel their liberties from religion are infringed? I'm curious...

It took me aback that this new article states that Whaley (the student at the center of all this...stay strong and ignore the burka comments, Allison!) was "initially upset" about the teeshirts. Perhaps that is why one of the ignorami thinks a teacher should be fired over this? Could they be referring to the poor art teacher? That would get me truly riled up. 

I had thought that the Dispatch conflated the two issues--Jesus picture and teeshirts--and Whaley's argument was solidly about the picture. I can see, though, how one might lead to the other. The fateful teeshirt project, for which art students chose hot topics like gay rights and abortion, is one of those bigger issues that the school should address. More on that later...

notes on a town

Before I dive in to the high school drama surrounding religious images and students' rights, I thought I should begin at the beginning: just what is it about New Concord?

While I was describing the issues to a student of mine, she said "Nothing bad ever happens there, and everyone is so nice." New Concord is our Mayberry, our Pleasantville. It's a quaint college town on the outskirts of Appalachia. And everyone is so nice.

Except the person who robbed the drug store at gun-point last year. True, that sort of thing seems a lot more frequent in a place like New York City; everyone asked me "aren't you scared about moving there?" I think this is true of all rural areas; we have this delusion that crime only happens in cities. That there is an invisible barrier between us and the gangsters and drug dealers and burglars. It was last year that I really (really) missed having my dog Zeke around, because there were several burglaries in the little town near the farm. Zeke would have bitten a burglar's legs off to protect me, and I missed that reassurance. I find it really strange how "country" it is to have dogs around, to have guns in the house for protection, then in a brilliant moment of cognitive dissonance, to assert that nothing bad happens here because we're country folk. We obviously feel the need to prepare for something. 

The security director at the campus where I teach made this very important point: banish all thoughts of New Concord as a real-life Pleasantville from your mind. Do it now! Have you seen the film titled Pleasantville? What is pleasant is not always pleasing. 

Aside from having a magnificent soundtrack, the film is very instructive for people trying to understand what is going on in New Concord. It, like Pleasantville, is a place where tradition reigns, and change is frowned upon. And I'm not talking about new construction--with the university on the hill and the new bank on the corner, cosmetic change is welcomed, so long as it's clad in quaintness and ornamental brick. As a kid, it really did feel like the end of Main Street looped back to the beginning again. An endless loop of small town goodness. A loop I was, as a country kid, often excluded from. Sometimes it takes an outsider, though, to make things happen.

What happens to Pleasantville? Outsiders change it from black & white to color. From conformity to diversity. From narrow-mindedness to open-mindedness. I think that same change can happen in New Concord, but not if grown men and women get their panties in bunches over a student questioning a picture of Jesus. Not if they call her un-American or tell her to get out.

Now, the people saying these things are not necessarily from New Concord. But New Concord residents who care about what is going on in their community ought to ask themselves why there is such an aggressive reaction to the question "Should a public school have a religious image on the wall?" Fear. The knowledge that you and your sect are not in complete control. Yet in their anger and fear, as in the film, they show their true colors. If only she'd be quiet, right? If only she's stop making a scene, everything could stay the same.

Will taking the picture down negate all that is actually good about the community? No. And allowing students to debate (in a civil manner) controversial issues doesn't take away from the fact that New Concord is a pretty good place in which to grow up. The debate will make it better. It will diminish the false pretenses that rural communities are in these protective bubbles that liberal secular elitists are trying to pop. No, you don't live in a vacuum. Sorry.

The idea of Pleasantville is dependent upon conformity, and conformity cannot coexist with American liberty. The process of breaking down conformity is painful, I know, and those most discomforted by change will fight back with unkind words and judgments. I pity them for using Christianity as a shield. I'm disappointed in them for showing a young adult such disrespect. Above all, I admire the student for attempting what I could never do.

religion on the brain

I have a confession: I'm addicted to The Tudors, and not because it's a Showtime boink-fest. As a student of history, I love to see certain events brought to life, and I love dissecting the writers' liberties taken with historical figures even more. Aside from Henry's many wives and affairs, I think the series made manifest the Reformation and the religious struggles on both sides--Catholic and Protestant--in brilliant fashion.

Along with indulging my Tudors craving, I have also been teaching religious art in my class these past few weeks. In fact, more than one student has, privately, expressed surprise that I put images of Jesus Christ and churches and pages from the Koran up on the screen in front of them. They were surprised, not because they were offended by the images or my lectures, but because they expected others to be offended. How unusual, I thought. Then again, I've been trying to goad them all into making their first impressions known, in order to teach them how first impressions often need to be modified. Essentially, I too was betting at least someone would be offended; I played audio of someone reading from the Koran, for Pete's sake. More on that another time...

Perhaps it is wrong of me to expect some students to be ill-informed about Islam or Christianity, considering my own fear of being pegged a Christian simply because of where I grew up and the family I belong to. It's all so timely, to be teaching religious art and immersing myself in religious history when I came across the article about my high school's current troubles. Of course I immediately shared the article with a lengthy rant. It was liked by a very diverse sampling of my friends, both conservative and liberal. I take this as a sign of success, up to the point that I trust no one has made any assumptions about my religious views.

Has humanity changed much in the last five hundred years? In the last thousand? The more I read, and the more I teach it, the more I believe history is repeating itself. In the 16th century, it was reformers like Martin Luther versus the papacy. Today, it's the religious right versus...well, secular heathens like myself. That's what Bill O'Reilly would call me. I've referred to myself as agnostic in the past, never atheist (that term has a PR problem, for sure...more like getting-religious people-to-understand problem). I think I need a new label these days, so now--maybe it's the historical drama binge talking--I call myself a Humanist.

Humanists value learning above all else. Learning leads to improving oneself and one's community. The humanism of the 16th century highlights, for me, a time in history when great minds realized that learning (particularly of Classical culture once deemed too pagan), is not contrary to religious practice. It is, however, contrary to religious dogma.

I cannot let go of the issues presented in the article. I cannot, as an art historian, abide by the removal of a potentially educative image from a school. I cannot simply join the side of the ACLU, the perceived "liberal secular progressive" side. I cannot stomach the calls for prayers for JG, as if the school is battling Satan and his legions. I'm trying to present a nuanced view of a very complicated situation in my own hometown. So, I want to ask my high school: Dear JG, are you spreading dogma, or are you encouraging learning?

Insisting that New Concord is a Christian community is dogmatic. Not to mention exclusionary (and that's where you bump into the First Amendment clause). Trumpeting the commemorative nature of a religious image is a pathetic attempt to cling to that dogma while hiding from it at the same time. Berating students who have raised their concerns about the constitutionality of a religious image in a public school, telling them to "get out of my country," is just plain wrong. So within the next few weeks, I hope to do some research on the side about the many issues at play in my high school today. And I hope I clarify the points I made in my rant, making plain that I am not on Team Christianity, and not really on Team ACLU. I'm on Team Let-the students-have-a-voice.

dissing the dissemination of ignorance

From the Facebook community oddly titled "PATRIOT" (sic).

The meme on the right is complete garbage. When I first saw it in my feed, I thought, oh my gosh, where am I going to start with this one? I quickly realized that this merited more than the average share + mock strategy I have used before.


[WARNING: Knowledge follows...]

Now, I'm all for patriotism. I'm all for voters being aware of the values and views of the candidates they support. This, however, does not educate voters. It sucks their brain cells dry. The page that posted this (although I cannot cite them as the originators), simply says "PATRIOT - One who loves, supports and defends one's country." It's a nice thought, but again...how does comparing an American president to Hitler support or defend the United States?

Silly me, I don't even need to bother with that question. This particular instance of Obama=Hitler is predicated on the (sadly) bold statement: "Only two people in history had their own symbols." This is where I can tear this whole thing to shreds. And others have attempted it within Facebook comments, only to be called names, naturally.

Call me art historian. That means I am fully capable of denouncing the statement as blatantly false. Point number one: "Only two people?" Please. The Queen of England has a symbol--her coat of arms. Caesar had his Eagle. But let's cut to the quick here. I'm talking about a man from a backwater of the Roman Empire, born approximately in the year 1 AD. You might know him as Jesus of Nazareth, Jesus Christ, or simply Jesus, your Lord and Savior. They say "know your audience," and I know that the main audience for tripe like the meme above tend to be religious. Here are just three symbols used within the same scope of "history" the meme claims:

Chi Rho Iota

Christian Cross

Ichthys (Fish)

So let's examine these symbols and see if they fit the bizarrely ominous tone of the meme. The Chi Rho Iota, which combines the first three Greek letters of the name Christ, is credited for the emperor Constantine's victory at the Milvian Bridge. He had a vision of the Chi Rho Iota in the sky that convinced him to use the symbol as his standard. Constantine went on to declare Christianity a legal religion in the empire, ending persecutions of Christians. Not exactly Hitler material. The Ichthys, also Greek, is a simple fish that Christians would use to identify themselves to fellow Christians before the religion became dominant in the Roman world. It too is based on the Greek name of Jesus: Iesus Christos, Theo Yios, Soter (Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior). Again, an innocuous image with a great history. All it takes is a little reading.

Now the Cross, we can really sink our teeth into that. It has also become a major symbol for Jesus and Christianity as a whole, but Early Christians actually preferred the Chi Rho Iota and Ichthys to the Cross. To a Roman citizen, it would be like looking at an image of an electric chair. Crosses were standard execution equipment for political dissidents, and the cross as a symbol, the Crucifix in particular, was quite rare in Christian art before the 5th century AD.

My point is that symbols are not just drawings or letters combined in clever designs. They have many layers of meaning. Some meanings are positive, while some meanings are very negative, like the Cross would have been to the Romans. The Swastika also has many layers. Before it was appropriated by the National Socialist Party in the 1920s, the Swastika was a sacred symbol to Hindus and Buddhists, among other eastern religions. In Sanskrit, svastika means "good fortune," and today you can see it on statues of Buddha. Hardly a sign of impending genocide. Send Heinrich Schliemann to do archaeological work in Turkey, though, and boom, this poor symbol is distorted into an image of Aryan purity. Good luck turns into bad juju when Germans are looking for their ancient ancestors.

Back to the meme version of the Swastika: I think the creator of this image is noticing some basic geometric coincidences. The circular forms of both make for a great comparison; they must mean the same thing! It's a pretty big leap, though, from form to politics. They make that gargantuan jump because they add their own negative layer to Obama's campaign symbol. In it they see progressive, gun-grabbing Fascism/Socialism/any scary -ism you can think of. No symbol is created in a vacuum. We influence them as much as they influence us.

Symbols are all around us. We are bombarded by images that stand for ideas, people, and places, so it is completely ludicrous to narrow the entire visual history of the human race down to two symbols to make a faulty political point. Spreading this as a meme on social media is tantamount to shouting lies on a street corner: "2+2=5! Why? Because Obama is a Muslim!" It doesn't take much to stop and think about what you find online. So I end with a plea: please think before you share such memes in the future. Be skeptical, especially when someone is making a Hitler comparison.

multiplicity of memorials

There is going to be a religious symbol at the Ohio Statehouse. At the same time, I am surprised that there is so little debate, and I am not surprised that this flies below the radar of so many Ohioans. Ever since hearing the words “memorial” or “monument” on the news broadcast, I have felt the need to read more about it and write this in order to get input from friends. (Instead of anonymous, spelling-impaired internet commenters.)

It’s especially on my mind this week, with the anniversary of 9/11. The designer of Ohio’s Holocaust Memorial is none other than Daniel Libeskind, master planner of the World Trade Center site and victim of many of the aforementioned internet comments. For now, I'm shying away from tearing into the articles and editorials, those covering reactions of atheists and the grumblings of Richard Finan. For one, I'm still unclear whether the "mock-up" actually originated from a Libeskind suggestion or what. And does it matter?

From the information Libeskind's studio provides online, the steel verticals “have a cut-out form of a bisected hexagram (six-pointed) star,” with no mention of the shape’s religious significance. Is this a conscious avoidance of religion considering the public site? Considering the universality that many monument designers work toward?

I wish I could grant Libeskind that benefit of the doubt, but my research into commemoration with abstraction shows that what is abstract is not necessarily “tolerantly vague.” In addition to my quoting of Karal Ann Marling’s work on the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, I’d like to point out that vague is not what we need here. Unless I’m mistaken, the connection between Ohio’s people and the Holocaust deserves a bit more explanation.

And we do get some insight from the Ohio Jewish Communities in these words: “Inspired by the Ohio soldiers who were part of the American liberation and survivors who made Ohio their home.” But allow me to pose the question: does it have to be at the Statehouse? Why not in areas with a more explicit Jewish heritage, in Columbus or even Cincinnati or Cleveland?

Let’s think about the case for Columbus, and the Statehouse in particular.

As I was perusing the Statehouse website, this made me laugh: “the magnificent Greek Rival Capitol Building.” Surely they meant “Revival,” but I digress. The strongest statement I found that might be useful here is: “The monuments and statues on Capitol Square depict the values, ideals and desires of the Ohioans who commissioned and designed them.” Surely, all Ohioans share the values and ideals that prevent genocide. Surely, by remembering millions as well as individuals, we take part in a global effort never to forget and never to repeat.

The Libeskind monument does not conflict with what is already there, in terms of a “history of the common person.” In that way, it is a recognition of Ohio’s Jewish community, especially those who found homes in this state after the war.

From what I have seen and what I remember about the Statehouse, art and design at Capitol Square has held on to the Neoclassical style that played such a large part in the early history of Ohio and the United States. The closest to conceptual or contemporary seems to be the curving walls of the Veterans Plaza.

The larger problem might not be the angular, abstract forms of the Libeskind design, but the zeroing in on a Jewish story. If the monument is to “teach people about man’s inhumanity to man,” there are, as many internet commenters and trolls have pointed out, a myriad of stories about that same inhumanity. Some are more recent, such as events in Darfur, and some were driven by forces other than differences of religion, such as the genocide in Rwanda.

The one thing that we have to hold on to, if this monument is to be included at Capitol Square, is the connection to Ohio. Anecdotally, the concept as it stands is more strongly connected to Ohio and Ohioans than, say, a memorial to the victims of Rwanda. However, are the visual elements reinforcing that anecdotal connection, then broadening the issue out beyond a particularly Jewish story into an Ohioan story? Or do the visual elements, with their lack of classicism, drive those who are least likely to relate to a Jewish story even further from understanding the lesson the OJC wishes to convey?

It’s my historical understanding that those taken to concentration camps include more than Jews: the Roma, the disabled, homosexuals, and others deemed “undesirable” in Aryan society. How much stronger would the monument be, and how much more aligned with American ideals, if the words and the images told stories of the Holocaust that remind us how hatred has many inspirations, religious and ethnic and beyond?

The monument would be truly universal, touching on our common history and relating quite directly to political and social issues facing Ohio today. It’s those issues, after all, that the Statehouse was built for in the first place. 

*Since I began ranting and writing this summer, Iowa has beat us to the punch. Hey, being first isn't everything.

any takers?

These are the topics that walk that fine line between public and private, between debatable and off-limits: welfare, food stamps, however you call them. It's a wonder I haven't written that much about these topics since family discussions mirror the news media so closely: Person A thinks everyone who uses food stamps is defrauding taxpayers while Person B (usually me) hopes that she can make everyone see that is an over-generalization, an assumption that only divides us further. Meanwhile, Person C just doesn't want to talk about it. Seriously, can we not talk about it please?

Dorothea Lange, Migrant Mother, Nipomo Valley, 1935

These topics, specifically the SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program) one, make me nervous because I dread the effect on the local community, should the program ever be completely de-funded. Plus, as a former member of AmeriCorps, I experienced the benefits first-hand. Short of putting my family through an abridged version of the Bridges out of Poverty training, I offer anecdotes to fight against the stereotypes.

It's natural to see someone receiving a benefit and think, "Hey, I'm paying for this myself. I'm working." I think it's that very human reaction that drives my relatives to form their opinions. Then they follow up with comments like "get a job," or "but they have a job, what's the problem?" It's also very human to look at someone receiving benefits and analyze clothing, car, behavior, and the amount of junk food in their shopping cart, because surely only a certain type of person needs food stamps. And I've thought that way, too. It was instantaneous; I hand a food pantry form to someone, and I see manicured nails and an iPhone. It doesn't compute. Why are they receiving help? Aren't there others who need it more?

But then I thought to myself, I'm as bad as that Varney guy on Fox News who complained that the American poor aren't really poor because they have microwaves--in essence redefining poverty. So let me flip this around for you: instead of thinking to yourself, "he bought an iPhone but he needs my help buying food," think "wow, the people in need might not be that different from me." It's all about perspective. If your definition of poor is still an image like Lange's Migrant Mother, you might want to look at some newer information from the SNAP program itself:

View some studies for yourself at USDA.gov

Even better, watch "American Winter". The point is, the "poor" might not be who you think they are. They might not be the takers, the freeloaders, that drum up so much conservative ire. They might have that iPhone to disguise themselves, fearful of judgment. Or heck, they're just trying to live a "normal" 21st Century life.

Why am I posting all this? Because I couldn't do it today when faced with this topic yet again. It's nowhere near as eloquent as Lange's photograph, which drew public attention to the plight of tenant farmers during the Depression, but it's what I'm able to offer. I suppose I could bring my laptop along whenever I visit a relative, just in case they need their perspective changed, but I'd hate to be preachy with family. So I'm preaching to you instead.

success

I've dredged up a lot of interesting things while organizing my dad's house; some of my mother's things, photos, grandparents' documents. I found two copies of the same quote entitled "Success," maybe typed by my mother for a church event, maybe given to her...who knows.

But I do know to be careful with quotes. With all the Einstein quotes out there in the ether, things Einstein never uttered, I decided to do my due diligence before romanticizing "Success" as the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, the American Transcendentalist writer. So, naturally, I turned to Google.

I came across an Emerson Society website from Texas A&M that describes the misattribution of this quote. Apparently it's more likely the work of a woman (go figure...) named Bessie Anderson Stanley. Other non-academic websites also agree that the quote is not necessarily Emerson's. In fact, there are completely different words, depending on who you ask.

Here are the words I found:

To laugh often and much;

to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children;

to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends;

to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others;

to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition;

to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.

That is to have succeeded. 

Emerson or not, it's something to hold on to, for us underemployed and unemployed. For those of us who just aren't satisfied by doing whatever it takes to make a buck, but want that buck to have a meaning.

Just imagine what Emerson might think of this quote. Imagine what his colleague Henry David Thoreau might think of our society at large...

I shudder at the thought.

An Idealist Proposal

Over thirty years have passed since the Supreme Court handed down its decision concerning Roe v. Wade, and yet, lawmakers across this nation continue to draft and vote on and pass legislation defining viability, laying down all sorts of hoops for a woman to jump through, and flat out maneuvering to make the 1973 case nothing more than a bad memory. Meanwhile, millions of Americans are still out of work, parents struggle to make ends meet, and local governments flounder. Hell, Detroit wants to file for bankruptcy!

So, in tough economic times, why are lawmakers talking about abortion at all? Why exactly did Ohio Republicans think it made sense to tack on abortion legislation to the budget, of all things?

Of all the problems we need to fix, of all the problems lawmakers should fix, why this one?

Ideological idiocy. Some twisted derivation of trickle-down theory, in which a society that homogeneously embraces a certain world view will magically become Mayberry. Good-bye unemployment, so long terrorism...all because the government of Ohio can require you to have a transvaginal ultrasound. Hallelujah.

I hear pro-life advocates such as Lila Rose speak very passionately about their cause on Fox News, and I see protesters holding up their abhorrent posters on the capitol steps; my gut reaction is to counter their points. Seriously...I wrote six pages worth. However, when I analyze the whole situation, I can’t help but believe that the pro-life movement is more pro-legislation than anything else. And isn’t that odd, considering some of these same people believe and have loudly interjected that the government cannot fix everything? (Gun violence, healthcare, you name it...)

Instead of fixing problems that actually affect most Americans, these lobbyists (to be fair, on both sides of the debate) throw millions of dollars into their campaigns, and lawmakers spend our tax dollars “debating” legislation. Just imagine what everyone could accomplish if they adopted a different strategy:

1. Stop the hyperbole. There might be another reason that pro-life representatives refer to people like me as pro-abortion besides the obvious giddiness that comes from childishly defaming your opponent. Perhaps the phrase “pro-choice” is just too damn reasonable and realistic.
2. Choice is important here. Bill O’Reilly quipped on his show last week that a woman might say “Oh, I sprained my wrist” and get an abortion. Wha??? Spend some of that money on research into why women make the choices they make. Understand the people whom you would otherwise legislate into oblivion.
3. Reach out to real women and girls facing that choice. If you truly believe that you can stop abortions and save babies, why not get out there and do it, instead of hanging around lawmakers?
4. And to those lawmakers...seriously. Have you looked at your approval rating lately? More ideology is not the answer, and some of you have elections coming up. I’m looking at you, Governor Kasich.

Let’s talk about the sort of person who is pro-choice. Not the boogeyman of the religious right: the über liberal feminist who wants to kill babies! Pro-choice people are women and men, young and old. Some are even Christian! And I can happily assert that I did not come to my pro-choice-ness by reading Planned Parenthood publications.

A wise woman once said, “Kids are going to have sex. So make sure they do so safely.” That woman was my mother. She used slightly different and more profane words, owing to the fact that anti-contraceptive politicians got her blood boiling. She was a nurse and a Christian, and it is her pragmatic take on these issues that emboldens my own idealist view.

Why is all this still a controversy? Contraception, premarital sex, abortion...it all seems already sorted to me. Always has. Sex education at my school might have been a bit of a joke; I surely didn’t change my mind about anything or learn anything beyond the obvious. Yet there are kids out there who don’t have their minds made up about it. Kids who don’t have sufficient parental guidance to navigate those issues. So they make uneducated choices, the worst kind of choice.

Whose responsibility is it? I say it’s the parents’ responsibility. I look forward to the day when gym teachers don’t have to double as sex education instructors. I’m sure they dream of that day, too. The problem with this dream of ours is that not all parents can or will take up that burden.

Call it oversimplification, but if you want your child to wait until marriage, etc., etc., shouldn’t you make the case for it? Shouldn’t you help steer your child toward that choice? Not the school. Not the government. Not the media.

Yet people blame movies for glorifying sex, blame schools for enabling it, and blame the government for taking God out of the equation. You’re the parents. If you want God to be part of your child’s decision, go for it. That’s your choice. If you want to enroll your child in a private school that better fits your morals, go for it. That’s your choice. If you want to filter what your child watches, go for it. That’s your choice.

There’s that pesky word...choice. And I propose, modestly, that both sides work toward affecting choices outside the halls of government. Educate parents. Empower girls and boys to talk openly. That’s where this abortion issue really starts. Not in the ob-gyn exam room, but in the Victorian awkwardness and avoidance of how babies are really made. They aren’t made with the blessing of the Church or Congress, but as a result of the choices two people make. 

One might look to the Church, like Sarah Palin did when she discovered her son Trig would have special needs. While her faith was a big part of it, she had the right to choose. Wendy Davis also made a choice to keep her baby at 19 years of age. Yet she would not then turn around and deprive other women from that same freedom of choice. Would you like more women to choose your way? Explain to them why. Support them. Do not demonize them or subject them to scrutiny that is medically unnecessary.

Sadly, for both Lila Rose and Planned Parenthood, my proposal will not result in any groundbreaking law or court decision. There will be no balloons, no posters, and maybe even no television appearances. There will simply be a generation of men and women who have been equipped with the knowledge, faith, and understanding (or some combination thereof) to make the choice that is best for them and their families if the time comes. And lawmakers can shove it.

We are a nation that likes its big events: mostly the scandalous and controversial with the occasional utter catastrophe. So, perhaps it is far too idealistic to take the choice of having or not having babies out of government hands, out of the public sphere completely, but you conservatives are always so enthusiastic about limited government...

What's that John Lennon line about life?...

I was about to settle in for the night and begin to reread The Black Swan, when all of a sudden I thought it would be both relevant and fruitful to write about the weekend’s main accomplishment: reorganizing the boxes of my possessions currently stashed in the walk-in closet of my dad’s basement. Yes, this is another episode in the chronicle of being a boomerang child (with a hopefully more lighthearted feel).

Now, the rereading was itself a distraction from reading the new book, Age of Insight, so it only seems fair to be distracted from the distraction. I’ll write about whichever book wins the battle for my erratic attention span later.

While charging in to that basement closet, swiping away cobwebs and pulling out obstacles like an old mini-vacuum cleaner and suitcases, I began to reacquaint myself with my own stuff. Stuff I haven’t been using...so I had every intention of putting at least half in a Good-Will pile.

I did not end up with a Good-Will pile.

This is in part due to genetics; both my mother and my father passed along the predilection for holding on to everything. But it was also due to the fact that this great stuff, my prized possessions, was and is meant for my future/hypothetical/imaginary home. The home that is mine. And perhaps shared with a special someone. But primarily mine.

• I have throw pillows with pretty prints, still wrapped, from Target
• Three boxes of kitchen implements, including a great 50s-60s era dish set from my grandparents’ house (which my sister Rachel couldn’t wait to part with...crazy)
• Three more boxes of Christmas ornaments, baskets, vases, and such collected from both grandparents and mom’s own stash, just waiting to be my heirlooms someday
• Posters that will probably prove to be too “college” once I unroll them
• And most importantly, my desk.

Add my books and everything upstairs, and I have all the fixings for a home crammed into someone else’s house. Yet I haven’t allowed myself to feel at home here. I’m waiting for, pining for that future/hypothetical/imaginary home.

In the past, I would focus on how I’m never going to get that home. How my career and education choices have soundly beaten that goal into dust. Not so, this evening.

I’ve always been waiting, with the expectation that things will finally start to “happen” once a certain mark is passed. First it was graduating high school, then finding employment during college and moving off campus, then working full-time, then moving to New York...you get the picture. While I was living those days and weeks and months, I did not let myself feel like I was living. I was always working toward something else, and saving things for the next future magical period of time when I would start to feel like I joined the living. The real people. Not the students, not the interns, and certainly not the unemployed.

That's totally photoshopped...

The boxes in the closet are a symptom of this waiting: a toaster that isn’t toasting, a flute that isn’t being played, a desk I’m not typing these rambling words on. We all do this, to an extent. Heck, storage companies in Manhattan base their business models on our inability to part with our stuff from/for another life.

While I have the inkling to live more minimally, whether by squirreling my stuff away or donating it, I can choose to see my boxes in the closet as symptoms of hope, as well. Like the picture of a car my mother carried with her until the day she bought the car.

And while I carry the picture of the future/hypothetical/imaginary home, I’ll try to let myself feel like I’m living because of my stuff, not in spite of it.

Through the wormhole with trepidation...

As much as I adore Morgan Freeman and his show on the Science channel, last week’s episode burst my grammar-elitist bubble. The episode focuses on what alien life might be like: how they feel, how they think, how they communicate, and, essentially, what constitutes life. It was the segment on language that got me.

“Rebel linguist” Simon Kirby demonstrated his research into language evolution using a simple game of telephone. Or, as he called it, “broken telephone.” It worked much as you might expect, with his initial message being garbled by the end. But he didn’t consider that a matter of miscommunication; rather, he saw his phrase evolve as it was passed from person to person. And the manner of this evolution? The phrase became shorter and simpler. Sure, it made no sense, but how many idiomatic phrases do we have these days that make just as little sense?

So language’s evolution is simplification, or becoming easier to learn. Here’s my issue:

Are language purists going against evolution? I’m not just thinking about myself, correcting with my pens the awkward phrasing of my students, but also of “higher” powers that have sought to preserve languages like English and French. I think back to my French teacher, Mrs. Klein, describing the horrors of le parking and le weekend. I think of my own recent insistence on wheel barrow as opposed to “wheel barrel,” as a silly facebook meme put it.

Kirby continued to shoot holes in my elitism, asserting that every mistake makes the language easier to learn for the next generation. Oh no, will the OED some day accept "wheel barrel"?! Sure, make those mistakes for the good of your children! Professors just get in the way of change!

So, do I put my pens down?

I so badly want to hear Kirby speak about any implications for academia: how will we (the academics) change in order to go with the flow of evolution? Or are we already part of it? Is there any such thing as correct grammar, spelling, syntax, vocabulary...so long as the idea is put across successfully? And how do we define “successfully,” in light of these evolutionarily necessary mistakes?

Kirby imagines that we will become “more and more stupid biologically, and more and more smart culturally” (my emphasis). I can get on board with that. I have always reveled in the knowledge that humankind’s first cultural endeavors were images, not words. Images that do the work of thousands of words, whether we as historians know the “correct” text or not. Perhaps, if we meet a far more linguistically and culturally advanced civilization, they will communicate in shorter, simpler forms while expressing bigger, more complex ideas as so many artists have striven to do.

Midnight in Ohio

After watching Midnight in Paris, I’m a little too listless to sleep. The film offers a lot of eye candy: shots of Paris, of course, Versailles, and Giverny. I absolutely adored the endless cameos by the likes of Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Toulouse-Lautrec, and Dalí. And I must say, Kathy Bates makes a wonderful Gertrude Stein.

All of that brought back my yearning to see more of the world. Not just Paris, but...everything. All places, all times. I suppose that’s what drew me to studying the history of art, and not art itself. I often wish I could have lived in a different time; in fact, my mother did say I was born 25 years too late. I even remember discussing it with an old friend who was horrified that I’d like to have lived in Victorian London. Historical geekdom aside, it’s Paris that has me unwilling to sleep right now.

In the film, Gil finds himself in his Golden Age: Paris in the Twenties. Yet, the woman he meets, Adrianna, has a Golden Age of her own: La Belle Epoque of the late nineteenth century. And Degas and company? They yearn for the Renaissance. The present, to Gil and famous artists alike, is dull and dreary compared to the past.

I just might be in a predicament similar to Gil, though in terms of place instead of time.

The grass is always greener, they say, in someone else’s field. I definitely believe that. My recent trip to New York, not to mention living in New York, is evidence of my desire and willingness to be anywhere but Ohio. Yet I found myself a little tired of New York as well. If things were different for me right now...oh, if only...I’d probably be on to the next wondrous place. Paris? London? And I’d have to ask myself: to visit or to stay?

Is there some fatal romantic flaw, like the Golden Age syndrome, that keeps one dissatisfied not with their present time, but with their present place? If no one else has named it yet, I shall call it Greener Pasture syndrome. Perhaps it is GP syndrome that makes me feel like a stranger in my hometown. And in my college town. And in my graduate school town. Will I never feel at home?

Whatever you call them, both “flaws” seem to be part of the larger battle for self-acceptance, which I hear is a good thing to strive for. That, and slapping Michael Sheen’s pedantic character upside the head.

Mother's Thoughts II

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. ~Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet, 29

Mother’s Day has just passed, and with it, bittersweet memories heightened by the well-wishes of friends to their mothers and all mothers. Now the memories are at the “usual” level. But I find it fitting to turn back to my mother’s thoughts at a moment, late at night, when I am in conflict with my own. Her meticulous handwriting brings comfort, and the sensation of holding a book and paper that she once held helps to shake off some ritual negative thoughts.

I have a library book at my bedside—a quite intriguing book entitled The Age of Insight: The Quest to Understand the Unconscious in Art, Mind, and Brain. While Eric Kandel’s work comes recommended both by an national review and by a faculty member in my department, I am truly frustrated that—in between the paragraphs of the preface—my thoughts drift from art and science to the one-liner I saw today in an email from LinkedIn, of all things.

Why You Shouldn’t Go to Grad School.

Seriously? I know the Universe might be a little miffed at me. Lately, I have been reading my Hitchhiker’s Guide, in which the Universe comes across as rather absurd, but to keep tossing this in my face? Really.

I have two main sorrows, if that isn’t a contradiction in terms: the absence of my mother and the loss at a major gamble I call Columbia. So let’s try to figure out the connection between my sorrows and my joy. Because, according to Gibran, “The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.”

My rehearsed reaction to the my-MA-is-worthless thought spiral is that I wouldn’t be teaching without it. I wouldn’t be able to call myself professor and associate myself with a renowned university. I also wouldn’t have the extra cares such a vocation brings, like wondering why students toss their papers in the trash. I do find joy there, though. I talk and write about art. What could be better? I read about it, think about it in new ways, learn to explain it differently than it was explained to me. Could I do that without the MA and all the (shameful) sorrow?

My mind counters with this: I just saw a post from a former classmate showing her all classy, fashionable, and curatorial. What did I do today? Well, I toted geraniums and verbena in the back of my car for my grandmother and got mad at myself for not being the perfect trim- and window-painter. Provincial, small-potatoes. No need for the MA there.

I do not need anyone to put me in my place. Now, that is something I obtained in graduate school. My delusions of grandeur are safe within my mind, never to be acted upon.

It’s far too soon to come to any worthwhile conclusions about this particular topic. That won’t stop me from trying, but I’m pretty sure I’d have to give it a few more decades and look back on this period in time. The period I interchangeably refer to as rural exile, underemployment, and, perhaps, spiritual grounding.

Where is the delight? I believe I’ve found some in rediscovering a relationship, something impossible without my return to Ohio. I may not be a jet-setting curator, and probably shouldn’t be, but I have begun (tenuously) to imagine a simpler though just as fulfilling future. And despite the conservative talking points, it has been a joy to forge a stronger bond with my father. That is one big use of the word “despite,” though. On that note, I hope I am a better political thinker than the other stereotypical liberals in their ivory towers. I can operate in a conservative, rural world because I was born here, and, at the moment, I have to operate here.

I’m interested in determining which period of time taught me more: the fabulous days of Columbia or the rural exile. And I have successfully exited the thought spiral for tonight.

Elegy for a term paper tossed in the trash

You weren't that bad...worth a B-, for Pete's sake! Yet, it might be that one capital letter that the student glanced at before tossing you aside, as if to say "good enough, no need to improve." Not even a pat on the back for you, term paper, for being satisfactorily organized and formatted. Not a second wasted on how your argument might have been strengthened with well-chosen citations.

You were tossed in that trash can far too soon. You had a whole life ahead of you. A life of study and reflection on essay structure and grammar. A life worthy of academic praise.

I'm sorry, term paper, that your creator doesn't give a damn about you.

I suspect many term papers are thus abused and cast away. But what about the students, these creators-turned-destroyers? What is the motive, the thought process behind such a callous attitude toward the written word? And why do I care?

As I picked up a random person's large McDonald's pop to place in the trash, I noticed a term paper with familiar green comments written (rather politely and stylishly, if I may be so bold), in the margins. It was the term paper of one of my students who had finished an exam earlier that day and picked up his term paper on the way out. And, also on the way out, he deposited that paper in the trash. There is, say, a 20-foot walk between my table and the trash can, so I highly doubt the student absorbed any helpful tidbits between picking up and pitching.

To which I say, "Thank you. I'll lose no sleep over your bad grade tonight."

That trashed term paper is a symptom and symbol of the larger ills of academia and the Millennial generation (or at least how Millennials are viewed in society).

This student grew up in the same region I did. I don't know his family background, his social status, or any of that, and I shouldn't know. But I can tell he is at least ten years younger than I am, so he's a Millennial whereas I identify myself (defiantly!) as Generation Y. We are different, yet the same.

We are different, because no one taught him to value his work. Or at least to include writing in what he considered "work." That attitude is far too prevalent these days. Too many people (*cough*Business majors*cough*) think writing is not a worthwhile skill, not something to be practiced and perfected. Writing is simply the act of expressing your ideas, which I should think is useful in any profession. My parents might have stopped reading my writing around 10th grade, once it got more and more esoteric, but they never allowed me to think of it as worthless. Writing made it possible for me to succeed in college, then graduate school.

Further success is pending. And I suppose that's why I have difficulty finding fault only in the student. It's a tough world out there. Yet that's why parents foster a sense of pride in a job well done. Whatever that job may be. That's why teachers give stickers, smiley faces, and praise...at least, they used to before all the standardized testing. The apathy of our students is of our own making. And once they're apathetic, there doesn't seem to be a way of reversing the process. Not that I've found...

I end with this question: how can we expect Millennials to value earning their way through work, when we don't teach them to value what work they do in school?

miss manners

As a reformed impulsive emailer, I feel I have the authority and duty to spread the word about the dangers of typing things you wouldn't say to anyone's face. My latest rule for myself, and for everyone, is Don't type anything you wouldn't say to your boss. This comes after numerous comment battles and one particularly negative email I received from a student, perpetuating that adversarial dynamic that bugs me so much in academia.

There are advantages to email. It's quicker, cheaper, and saves paper. It's standard practice to email professors, and I especially enjoy the advantage of tracking conversations with students in my inbox. It allows us to keep up with friends and family who are far away. However, the ease of typing and the "anonymity" of communicating electronically can be misleading. We don't have the same immediate consequence of someone's verbal (or bodily) reaction. Though I cannot say it is impossible, I should think it is far less likely for a student to yell and curse at me to my face. In either case, I try to keep emotion out of my dealings with students, much as I expect managers to do with their employees. Perhaps my professional tone lacks the "pat on the shoulder" that some seem to expect. And, far more likely, whatever issues the student is facing led to a lack of judgment. That feeling of anonymity, that delayed reaction, can be a relief in awkward situations, but it also tempts us to be bolder to the extent of rudeness and just plain nastiness. The result: I don't really want to communicate further with that individual.

We also apparently lack the ability to spell-check and proof-read before hitting "send." And don't even get me started on text abbreviations. You'd think, sitting at a keyboard or tapping away at a phone, we'd all benefit from correct grammar and spelling. Much more so than when the pen is in hand, and our writing is not so pretty. Not so, in our culture. Is it just laziness? "Hey" and "u" are just as jarring as any poorly scribbled note. The result: I'm sorry, I'm just not impressed.

Does the internet facilitate communication or a breakdown in communication? That is what is at stake, here.

If you read my facebook posts, you'd think I walk around talking about politics and cats. Well, that's not far from the truth. However, when I compartmentalize my political self on the web, I feel braver, more capable of making a point. I can post articles that really make me think. I can provide support for my views. But add to that the dangers of electronic communication, and it calls into question my responsibility as a poster. Am I responsible for the reactions, positive or negative, to things I type? Am I responsible for friends who insult one another while commenting on my posts?

Lower Education

This semester, I've been confronted with some rather troubling views on higher education. Naturally, I'd like to achieve a better understanding of this through a survey. I realize responses won't be anonymous, but I cannot imagine that would stop my more opinionated acquaintances! It's not a scientific poll, anyway...

Respond to each statement using the scale:
Strongly Disagree--Inclined to Disagree--Neither--Inclined to Agree--Strongly Agree

And feel free to elaborate on any of your responses, of course.

1. Paying tuition for higher education is the same as paying for any other service.

2. Higher education is an investment in yourself.

3. When you are paying tuition, especially out-of-pocket, institutions should follow the "customer is always right" rule.

4. There should be no consequences for missing classes, whatever the reason.

5. There should be no due dates for assignments.

6. You should spend at least 3 hours of out-of-class work per credit hour of class.

7. A degree is earned, not given.

8. It is unfair to offer a makeup exam because it gives that student more study time than his/her classmates.

9. It is the teacher's job to make the subject interesting for students.

10. Enrollment is a choice, and completing coursework is the student's responsibility.

11. Everyone should have at least a bachelor's degree.

12. Higher education is a privilege.

Thank you for participating! I'm no Bill O'Reilly, but I hope I'll be able to compile some results and share interesting opinions about education today.

purpose

Movies that most people wouldn’t waste their time on are one of my few vices. The others include Coca Cola and sleeping in. So, if you needed further proof of my lack of wildness, there you are. One of those movies is Ever After, and I bring it up only because one line has been repeating in my head for a few months now: “I used to think, if I cared at all, I would have to care about everything...and I’d go stark raving mad.”

That is rather like how I feel right now. Maybe not the stark raving mad part, but the anxiety about finding a “purpose.” I’ve been honing in on something to do with my own journey beyond southeast Ohio and back again, but that makes me wonder if I should keep piling on the purposefulness. Do I care about poverty? Hunger? Child abuse prevention? Sure. I wish I could solve it all.

I have trouble letting go. In effect, I let go of the Heifer Project for some complicated and silly reasons that no one has thus far directly asked me about. I completed a term in AmeriCorps, but chose not to pursue another. In all fairness, that decision came at the same time I was asked to add a second art history class to my schedule. The field I obtained two degrees in of course takes precedence. So letting go feels good. It’s a relief, in many ways, but it is also...sad isn’t the proper word. Bitter is too strong. Disappointing, perhaps?

One of the major criticisms of my generation—and the next one—is that we’re wayward. We flit from job to job, from interest to interest. But isn’t that a more natural way to live? Apart from the nuts and bolts of it all: eating, sleeping, socializing; can one really dedicate their lives to one thing, or one realm of things, and stick to it? Maybe not in this job market. One of the few good things about my crooked path is where I am right now, teaching. It’s growing on me. That’s not to say I’ll be a professor from now until the end. But I’ve found a realm I’d like to stay in/near/vaguely adjacent to.

That realm is difficult to define. Not simply “the arts,” not just “academia.” I want to be involved in the literacy movement as well as art history. I want to keep trying to broaden the views of people who have never seen the value in looking beyond Ohio’s borders. Or even the county’s. I’ve already let this drive me a little crazy, taking it personally when one student or another doesn’t see the value and might never see it. That’s the caring about everything, or everyone, part.

But, did you read up there, “I want to be,” not “I am”? I still feel like I am in flux. Not settled. Not like I’ve found my place. At what point do I become just a talker and not a doer. Am I already there? Looking back on the past three years, I wonder why I haven’t already reached maximum purposefulness. Yet while I say I’m in flux, am I really where I am meant to be? Where is the line between passion and waywardness? Because I seem to be dancing on it.