Educated State

These days central to the general expectations of students, parents, the broad and loosely identified “higher education community,” government agencies, high-school counselors, news reporters and pundits—virtually everyone—is the understanding that a university education provides and entrance into professions and careers. Education when more altruistically conceived is about solving social problems, changing society, producing change agents, or in today’s language “transforming” society, (we hope for the better, but that does not always seem to be the outcome), and exposing and undoing the networks of privilege and power that deny people their freedom of choosing to do as they feel they can, be what they desire to be, and follow their passions. In many Christian universities this focus on the solving of problems, transforming society, has taken the place of (or has become the major emphasis of) the older notion of shaping the minds, imaginations, hearts, and lives of students through a broad and sometimes deep “liberal” education which includes a healthy dose of Biblical and theological study. My experience in all of the settings noted above, and on many campuses including FPU, is that the common expectation of preparation for professions, for effecting change, for doing and gaining something tangible for the individual and for society at large is the common, pervasive understanding of the purpose of education.

Against this professionalization some argue for a renewal of the liberal arts, which I and many others on the FPU campus have taken part in.  Some of what we have argued on and off campus, in scholarly and educational societies, verbally and in print has been effective and some not. We have argued that It takes a great deal of education and training to understand and grasp the root and immediate causes of social problems to know how solve them. This does not come easy. If it were easy, we would not have such difficult arguments in our classroom and in the public arena over what the data on social trends tell us, let alone how to resolve social problems. Perhaps a little humility is in order. This argument is sound, if ignored by popular movements, writers, politicians, and those who seek to inspire students in chapel speeches and convocations.

We have also claimed that there are deeper arguments in thinkers of the past, great thinkers and great books as they are often called, and that these need to be mastered for the insights they offer, and how they challenge us to reconsider whatever are the happy hour specials of today’s ideas.  There is much to be said about this argument as well, though the student quickly finds that these thinkers disagree with each other on fundamental issues.  Is it Adam Smith or Karl Marx, Plato or Locke, poetry or science, theological law or human judgment, large social factors or individual actions that shape us?  Or in what ways do each of them speak to us? As we move past the “dead white male”s among these writers, the great thinkers of other cultures (Asian, African, Islamic, etc.) share the same problems. When women writers are included in the discussions as they have been for the last two generations at least (claims to the contrary notwithstanding) they too disagree with each other, and sometimes agree with the men who are assumed to be their oppressors and adversaries.

Students this week in my world history classes found it difficult to understand that a Chinese writer like Confucius would place conforming behavior to good manners and practicing traditional religious ceremonial and ritual was a virtue that taught one the high virtue of benevolence (or willing and acting well for the good of others). Islamic writers make the same kind of arguments in a different way. Can we not just be good? And when we are free and have the right intentions and ideas, won’t things just work out well and better for everyone? Aren’t past constraints the problem?  Students in my Renaissance history and literature class last semester found it disconcerting that some of the women writers of the age, even as they argued for women’s education and for greater opportunity to write and publish, would be considered “conservatives” in their day, and did not follow today’s feminist doctrines. If male writers are the problem, how can female writers not be the answer?

“Great” writers who have been at the core of a liberal arts education are not easy, whoever they are. It is not enough just to read, reflect and appreciate. When we read them, we do not absorb the answers to life’s  problems, we may instead learn the depth of the issues that confuse and divide us. To understand these writers, whoever, wherever, and whenever they are requires some professional training to understand what issues were that they addressed, why they addressed them in the way they did, and what the outcomes may have been in their time, and later. The new trinity of race, class, and gender may open our eyes to elements of texts, social organizations, and ideas that we might have missed without them, but when taken as the primary element of human experience they prove to be pretty thin soup that does not provide enough nourishment to work to the depths of the ideas we confront.

All of these arguments and commitments have their weaknesses. And there are other subjects that are and ought to be major parts of a professional and liberal education—how to think scientifically, what the social sciences can tell us and not tell us, and practical tools for living in a complex society like how to read and understand financial statements and calculate value, understand statistical analyses, and the role of the arts (traditional and contemporary) in enlivening and manipulating the emotions, in forming and dissolving communities—but this is not my purpose today. I support the basic expectation that a university education ought to prepare students for professions in our world.  Four years of work, and thousands of dollars in tuition, ought to result in being able to enter a profession and earning a living. Professional preparation need not contradict those other claims about the value of deep engagement with ideas and with reading lasting thinkers. My purpose is rather to point out some of the tensions that we live with today, and especially that we find in our teaching and life in the university, in conversations and in planning with colleagues and in discussion with students. These are the some of the tensions, and sometimes seeming contradictions I have been confronted with lately. Perhaps I will offer some thoughts towards addressing them in the near future.

I have to confess most often I do not like “popular histories.”  I have been trained to read dull, dry, technical works of history in my fields of study, and I find popular histories often misleading, and without the understanding of the mentality, questions, problems, institutions, and limitations of the times they are writing about necessary to write insightful history.  Many of our professions, not just in academia, have similar occupational hazards.

But I make an effort to read popular histories to gain ideas and insights into how to teach the subjects I have the privilege of discussing each week with students, often in introductory courses.  Popular histories offer models of communication of difficult subjects for non-specialists and provide ways of developing a subject in the classroom.

This last year I have read a few that I can recommend to my current and former students.  These have the benefit of being by academically trained writers who want to present their subjects accurately and with some depth, but also to communicate with broad audiences. They are sensitive not to politicize their arguments, but also to address their subjects in ways that allow their readers to recognize the complexities of the political world we live in and make judgements about how we should understand and respond when needed.  Here are three about the Middle East that I have read in the last year that I hope some readers of this blog might find interesting. 

The first is on a large topic, Islamic governmental order throughout its history, Hugh Kennedy’s (University of London) Caliphate: The History of an Idea (Basic Books, 2016). A “caliph” is the successor of the prophet Mohammed in leading the Muslim community (though not as a prophet) and a deputy of God.  Kennedy focuses on three questions, how a caliph should be chosen, “what should the caliph do and how extensive were his powers to be,” and how these questions were to be decided and on what evidence choices would be made. He develops the variations in answers to each of them, bringing the story up to the 21^st century and the proclamation of the restoration of the caliphate by ISIS. That story adds great depth to our understanding of a very large and powerful political tradition, and how we might understand the conflicts and claims we see today. 

The second and third each focus on individual cities: Thomas F. Madden of St. Louis University, a historian of the crusades, Istanbul: City of Majesty at the Crossroads of the World (Viking, 2016) and Simon Sebag Montefiore, Jerusalem: The Biography (Vintage, 2011).  Madden describe “The City” (the meaning of Istanbul) from ancient times, through its centuries as Constantinople the capital of Byzantine civilization and its Ottoman centuries, to the 20^th century as the capital of secular, modern Turkey, and the 21^st as Turkey has returned overtly to Islam under Erdogan. Madden illustrates the power of the city that was feared in Reformation Europe and a source of mystery before and after.

Montefiore likewise develops a history of Jerusalem from its ancient centuries as the city of David, Solomon and other Israelite kings, through New Testament times, to Islamic centuries where it was sometimes a religious center, sometimes the place of conflict (the crusades and between competing Muslim political leaders) and when it was a forgotten, dusty, small town in a desert.  He brings the story up to 2010, with it now as a Jewish and Muslim city, a place of passionate claims, tension, violence, intense archaeological work, and cherished sites for worship. You can find a presentation of the book and how he wrote it by Montefiore at C-Span.

All of these offer understanding without the technicalities and arguments of academic works.  Each is engagingly written and rewards anytime we spend with them.

One more written just last year might be added. It too is by an academic historian, written for a popular audience, and focuses on a topic of interest today, Robert Louis Wilken’s (Emeritus, University of Virginia) Liberty in the Things of God: The Christian Origins of Religious Freedom (Yale, 2019).  Today when the media narrative is that religion and Christianity are inherently oppressive and violent, Wilken tells the story of how arguments for religious freedom developed in the ancient church and were rediscovered during the Reformation in response to political and religious conflict. Ideas such as freedom of belief, conscience, and an allowance for multiple faiths in single political order were not, it turns out, the result of secular thinkers who turned from violent religious commitments to scientific toleration and peace. Rather these developed in the heart of Christian theology and political experience in ancient Rome and the kingdoms and cities of the sixteenth century.  

The reading of each of these has already found their way into my teaching. I think they have offered me ways of communicating more effectively (something we who teach always strive for), and greater understanding of our complex world.

We returned from the FPU Alumni and Friends Tour to Italy in July enriched, a bit tired, sometimes feeling overwhelmed with what we had experienced. Travel changes your perspective, your way of seeing. It challenges us and helps you see and experience things and events in ways we might not have been able to before.  And when you travel to a place like Italy with overlapping historical remains from the ancient, medieval, early modern and modern worlds the experience takes a while to sort out and deepens with time and reflection.

I asked our group of eighteen travelers to offer some of their trip highlights.  Here are their reflections.

Many reflected on how much we had seen.  Some liked the ancient cities of Ostia and Pompeii.  These uncovered ancient cities showed us how Romans lived (they even had toilets that flushed after a fashion).  And, of course, many thought of Rome itself—the Colosseum, the Vatican, the ancient ruins with the modern city all around.

Others recalled “all of Florence.”  And some thought Michelangelo’s work was amazing—the statute of David, the human forms pulling themselves from the marble, and the Sistine Chapel at the Vatican. 

Many of us were awed by the first site of the Duomo in Florence, along with Giotto’s campanile or tower, and the baptistry with Ghiberti’s bronze doors.

A number of us attended a Mass at the Duomo on Sunday morning (and then enjoyed a pastry and drink at a café on the plaza). The interior of the dome, with its painting of the afterlife rising up to the cupola brought a particular view of reality to the experience of coming before God in worship with people from all over the world. This was a highlight for many of us. We often worship wherever we are when traveling. We are always welcomed and refreshed and inspired to be with others in this common experience.

Two cities were noted especially, but for different reasons.  We arrived in Siena the day before the Palio—the twice-yearly horse race between the dozen or so intensely competitive neighborhoods of the city, identified by their animal mascots. Siena was alive with preparations for parties, dinners, celebrations, and awash with people crowding its narrow and twisting streets. The Duomo featured St. Catherine who as a young woman inspired people in Siena and far beyond, and who influenced political and religious leaders, convincing the Pope to return to Rome from under the influence of the French king in Avignon. 

We took a special side trip to Assisi.  For many of us this was a spiritual experience. The art in the cathedral tells the story of the many events of the life of St. Francis.  Every wall is covered with paintings by many different artists. I picked up a little book of scenes painted by the famous artist from the early 14^th century, about 100 years after Francis, Giotto. The paintings and the story were overwhelming. This was a place to sit and think or pray. Our guide was knowledgeable about the art, and also about the spirituality of Francis.

We also visited the small town of San Gimignano, with its tall towers, on a hill overlooking Tuscany.  You cannot get much better. A few remembered having some of the best gelato in Italy (and we had a lot of good gelato throughout the trip to compare it to!). The line for the little shop wound its way outside, and across two or three other shops, but it moved quickly, and the wait was worth it.

I asked the question about highlights at the end of our trip, so Venice, where we stopped first was back deeper in our memory. But a few mentioned the canals, St. Mark’s Basilica with its Byzantine dome and tiled mosaics, the brightly colored houses on the island of Burano, and, of course, a ride in a gondola with a soloist to set the mood.

Some special moments of the trip were recalled—the cooking class where we learned to make ravioli together (about 15 feet long as I remember it), and the opera dinner in Rome, a “bike ride on the Napoli coast,” our stay on Lido island in Venice, some of the unique shops, a sing-along at a restaurant in Venice, haggling over prices, dinner at the Rialto bridge, for those who stayed on for the extra excursion to Naples the beauty of Capri, and our extraordinary guide, Filomena. 

Many mentioned the good time we had getting to know each other, talking over dinner, long walks as we toured the sites. In a few moments of reflection, we see how travel opens our eyes, minds and hearts.

We will end the FPU Alumni and Friends tour of Italy, starting in just a couple of weeks in Rome.  What can we say about Rome?

It is one of the great cities of the world.  It has been central, influential in Western and world history since ancient times, through the Middle Ages, Renaissance, Reformation, and modern world. It has been a beacon, full of corruption, the eternal city and in deep need of reform.  It has been a center of reform, a world power, a leader in the expansion of Christianity, both for and against modern world developments.  It was the last stopping place of the Apostles Peter and Paul.

We wouldn’t have Star Wars’ battle between “The Republic” and “The Empire” without the history of Rome. Rome’s history has been central in the West’s political and cultural education for centuries, almost continuously for more than a thousand years. It is the home of saints, theologians, practical philosophers, has a deep literary heritage, and is itself an architectural marvel. 

We will not have trouble finding what to do.  Here are some things to ponder, an idea or two from several ages. Italy Guides offers once again a good overview.

For the church, of course we must see the Vatican and Sistine Chapel.  I want to look for Raphael’s School of Athens. I had a print of it in my office for several years; many students and colleagues talked with me about it.  It is paired with a less famous painting, Dispute over the Holy Sacrament.  They are intended to be a pair to be seen together.  You can read a meditation on these two as an example of Christian culture by the prominent early church historian, Robert Louis Wilkin at First Things (beginning about 2/3 through the essay). 

What about ancient Rome?  We will want to see The Colosseum and The Pantheon a temple to all the gods.  And we will take a special visit to Ancient Ostia the ancient Roman port.  Rome is filled with ancient history.

For the baroque world, the unique, modern Catholic culture, we will see the Trevi Fountain, seen often in movie scenes.  Perhaps we can also get to the small church Santa Maria della Vittoria where Bernini’s sculpture The Ecstasy of St. Theresa, an experience she describes in her autobiography. 

After Rome, some of us will be traveling on for an extra few days in Naples, Pompeii and some relaxation on the island of Capri! 

The Fresno Pacific Alumni and Friends tour to Italy is just six weeks away.  We are going to a couple of special places.  First, we will take a side trip to Siena, a World Heritage Site. You can find out more about it at what has become a standby for getting oriented to a region or city in Italy, Italy Guides. 

It is said that you get a sense of both the medieval (on the outside of buildings) and the Renaissance (on the inside). On the Piazza del Campo, the main plaza, a horse race has been held every summer in since the middle ages. 

One place to visit is the birthplace of St. Catherine of Siena, a reformer and “Doctor” or official teacher of the Catholic Church, who convinced the pope to return the papal office from Avignon in France to Rome.  Christian History Magazine has a couple of articles about Catherine which are interesting and brief. 

Another, well known feature is the Palazzo Publico, the Town Hall, that dates to the fourteenth century. Inside is a series of paintings, The Allegory of Good and Bad Government.  Siena, like many of the cities of Italy, was a republic.  The Allegory illustrates graphically the justice and flourishing that were the goals of the city, and the opposite.

On our travel from Florence to Rome, we will stop for a pilgrimage visit to the Umbrian town of Assisi, the home (Italy Guides again) of St. Francis.  Here we will have the chance to see the Basilicas of St. Francis and of St. Clare.  We will also see the Church of San Damiano, where Francis experienced his conversion to follow Christ.

St. Francis is one of the saints recognized by the Church worldwide. He was called even in his time, a second Christ because he seemed to follow Christ fully. Christian History magazine has a whole issue dedicated to St. Francis.And if you want more, there is a very good and beautifully illustrated little volume on him by Mark Galli, St. Francis of Assisi and His World which is available very cheaply—well worth it. 

Travel in itself can be something like a pilgrimage. Siena and Assisi are two cities where we just might experience hope and renewal, where we might be lifted out of the ordinary and our cynical world to something more profound.

Where to begin?  There is so much to see, and so much that happened, so many famous and notorious events and people that happened and lived in Florence that we will only see some little parts of it in our three days this June on the FPU Alumni and Friends Tour.

So here are some things to dream about.  Let’s start as we did with Venice with Italy Guides, Florence.  But you might also want to look at a couple of video’s that explain something about how to get about, and some of the most popular places—current, historical, artistic:  Vidtur's brief video and The Roman Guy’s Florence in a Day.  And here is a little summary piece on the history of the city. These will tell a bit about the general past, major exhibits, the most famous artists, the markets, the piazzas and bridges, and cathedral. 

But how about some of the other things to see. The Duomo, or Cathedral was a major architectural and engineering achievement in the 14^th century. It was begun in the 1290’s and not finished until the 1460s—the records of the project and its organizing and supervising committee are still in existence. You can find a “Smart History” video on Filippo Brunelleschi and his Dome, and if you are ambitious there is a popular book by Ross King, Brunelleschi’s Dome (Penguin, 2000). (Thanks to my brother-in-law, Bob Worcester, for recommending it.) Brunelleschi was awarded the commission to build the dome through a competition which he one over the more famous and experienced artist at the time Lorenzo Ghiberti. Ghiberti won the earlier competition to design what became the bronze doors of the Baptistry nearby.

Everyone has heard of Machiavelli—notorious writer of The Prince. He wrote much more, some insightful and analytical, some fanciful (despite his seeming practicality), and all focused on maintaining power in a hard political world. Here is an interesting BBC piece take on where Machiavelli worked. 

At the opposite of end of the spiritual climate from Machiavelli is Dante. Florence was his home, before he was banished, and he always looked back to it.  Here is something on Dante in art—see the reflections of Florence in the first painting. And you might want to visit the Dante Museum (I’m going to!) which has exhibits about his life, Florence around 1300, and The Divine Comedy, the story of his spiritual pilgrimage through Hell, Purgatory and up through Heaven to the vision of God.

An eccentric figure, not as well known now has he once was, is the Dominican prophet and preacher, Girolamo Savonarola. Savonarola was a moralist and political reformer and revolutionary who roused the populace and then alienated them. Another Dominican is a favorite of mine, Fra Angelico, a couple of generations earlier than Savonarola, whose paintings are quietly inspiring. You might want to visit the Convent of San Marco, to see his The Annunciation.

And here is one last piece on Michelangelo’s Medici Chapel. We can’t end without having gone back to one of the classic sites. But we must end somewhere, and we will only have a few days. There’s more than enough for a second trip to Florence!

The assessment movement in higher education is now more than 25 year’s old.  It has challenged us to think about what we do as professors, and has broken through many (not all, by any means) ideological battles to allow different kinds of institutions to thrive. It has required us to state the “learning outcomes,” what we want students to know, to learn, in a class, program (or major), and at a university.  

One of those that I add to my courses particularly to my lower division, GE courses is to “think historically:” “To learn the practices of critical historians, including how to appropriate historical sources for understanding, and to test historical claims and conclusions” as I phrase it on one syllabus.

The political arguments in our broader cultural, political, and churchly arenas are carried out often as historical arguments.  “We have always been” this or that, compared to someone or something else. “It developed out of…” “We should go back to…” or “We must achieve” x or y as successful societies have.  “It is the arc of history,” the “way of the future;” “anyone who knows our history, can see…”  Of course, these are often false assertions.

Behind what we are doing in teaching the history of civilizations, for example, is providing examples, patterns, cases so that students are not taken in by false comparisons and can “test historical claims and conclusions.”  Here are some of the broader characteristics of thinking historically I hope students begin to absorb in my classes.

Complexity: history is complex. Historical events involve unique personalities, are set in concrete environments each one a little or greatly different from the last, embedded in cultures that are different from neighboring ones, and rely on the judgements of historical actors with limited knowledge, conflicting passions, and differing judgments of the importance of contributing forces and possible outcomes. Monocausal explanations are almost always wrong. If a student will let the complex elements of an historical episode develop in their understanding, and sort through them with patience, they will almost always come to a deeper understanding than if they choose a simple and single cause as an explanation. It requires mental and emotional discipline. I suppose that is why we call subject areas disciplines.

Cultural Continuity: cultures are different from each other and embedded deeply in habits, minds and traditions. They are deeper than ideas or institutions. They shape the way we act within institutions, what institutions are deemed permissible and important, what ideas mean, which kinds are important, which we should listen to and which ignore. A Chinese Confucian will think very differently form a Muslim theologian/lawyer, and both differently than a Christian Bishop in the middle ages, or a rationalist philosopher in the early modern world. They will each develop different institutions and find themselves willing to act in certain ways and unwilling in others. Cultures continue on and change slowly. They are an example of the “longue durée,” those long-standing, slowly altering structures of history French historians have emphasized. We must understand them to make sense of current events. When we think everyone thinks and acts as we do, we will be shocked by differences, and misunderstand the actions and thoughts of others. Religion is at the heart of culture. A historical sense that leaves it out, misses energy that drives people and cultures.

Contingency: sometimes odd, chance, strange things happen. We must be ready for them.  A unique personality comes onto the scene. A new people is encountered, a continent that was not anticipated is found, a new use for an old element discovered. Epidemic disease or famine or an unforeseen war changes the context for any response or action. Climate changes—it has in the past, is now changing, and will in the future. Old problems die away, and new ones arise people could not anticipate. Stuff happens. Our most learned predictions can turn drastically wrong. Politicians and leaders of institutions face this regularly. To understand how to act and why something has developed the way it did, we must be ready for the strange and unanticipated. Historical understanding is not scientific. No one knows the scientific laws of historical development because they do not exist.

Chronology: things happen in sequence. Programs that started out in moderate ways, may become extreme, or vice versa. Institutions develop and decay. Certain ideas are not encountered in particular times and arise in others. And we must get the chronology right. My students are shocked to learn that the modern world is the age of Absolute, Divine Right Kingship, and the Middle Ages the time of the development of parliaments and representative governments, and that some of the ideas that go with them (representation, consent, etc.) developed in theological arguments about the nature of the church and its governance, not first in the arguments of secular thinkers of the modern age. Wasn’t the Middle Ages the time of abusive nobility? No, kings then were bound by law. Get the chronology wrong and history becomes a frustration or a soothing myth.

Comparison, Comparativity (is that a word?): we must use comparison to understand history. What happened in the American Revolution, the French Revolution, Latin American Revolutions, the Communist Revolutions of the 20^th century, in the Arab Spring of the 21^st century?  When we can compare them, with all their complexity and contingency, their cultural continuities, we will gain a firm understanding about the nature, possibilities, and dangers of revolutions.  We might also question why revolution is seen as such a positive event in our age.  Or we might begin to recognize the nature of true achievements and false achievements. Medieval Europe and Ancient and Medieval China were the only two pre-modern societies that developed technological cultures. When we compare them, we gain profound knowledge about technology and society, a knowledge we cannot gain without the comparison. 

Creativity: we meet extraordinary creativity regularly in history. It can be astounding. Great thinkers, political actors, saints, the unknown artisan and builder of an ancient road or medieval cathedral live in every period and place. Their creative works, thoughts, writing and lives inspire. We meet selfless saints, heroic common people, inventive geniuses, tireless workers, inspiring artists. We also meet the creatively manipulative leader or conqueror, the person driven to command and exonerate evil. They all remind us that everything cannot be systematized, categorized, and controlled. We might be inspired ourselves to look for brilliant possibilities. We find them in every time a place. Where do we find great novelists and story-tellers?  In Africa, North America, South America, Europe, China, Japan, India—I don’t mean to leave anyone out, but the list must conclude at some point.

I had hoped to keep it to five but ended up with six. “Creativity” creatively emerged in the process. I suppose that is not too many. If students are sometimes overwhelmed, I tell them, it is time to sit back, look at the big picture, make some comparisons, recognize that confusing, contingent things happen, and enjoy the complexity, chart the chronology, and look for the cultural continuity. Enjoy the ride--history is one attempt to make sense out of life. It is preparation for working in businesses, being members of churches and families, and citizens of cities, nations, and the world.

Now that I am back in the classroom, after many years in the wilds of administration, I have been able to concentrate on teaching.  And despite having started this gig teaching college students in 1981, I am still learning, and now learning from my younger colleagues. 

Just this last week I was reminded that some of what I have learned is paying off. It’s just past midterms. Students are concerned about their grades and where they will end up. I’m prodding them in each class session to take action. They are meeting with me to think through what they can do to finish strong.

At the beginning of the 2017-18 academic year, a year and a half ago, one of our newer Biblical Studies professors, Dr. Melanie Howard, gave a brief presentation on working with first generation students.  She gave several suggestions, one of which I began to try out, and am still using. I now hold traditional office hours in the coffee shop each week. After my early class I head over to the coffee shop, Charlotte’s Corner (in Alumni Hall) get a drink and hang out, do some work, read, review for classes, whatever is pressing. Students can drop by without an appointment to chat about anything they have on their minds. Sometimes I buy them a cup of coffee.

In the past when I waited in my actual office for students to show up, I met with a handful over the course of the semester.  Now I average 2-3 a week. If I saw six students over the semester in my office, I now see 30+. They stop by to clarify something said in class, check on the topic of an assignment or reading, get help on a paper, ask what they can do to improve their grades, or sometimes just to talk for a few minutes.

Melanie explained that going to a professor’s office can be intimidating.  And it’s out of the way, takes special effort to get over too it.  The coffee shop is easy, on the main footpath, and a safer environment. I still meet with students in my office, especially if they want to go over grades or talk about a personal situation with greater privacy. But those more casual conversations in the coffee shop, even if just for a few minutes, seem to be appreciated and to work for students.

Many years ago, probably about 20, one of our then younger professors, Dr. Tim Neufeld, professor of Christian ministry, gave me a piece of advice that I continue to rely on. He may not even remember it.  I asked him what was important about advising and mentoring for the traditional college age student—the 18 to 23-year-old. His reply was something like this. They want to be able to drop in when they need something—advice, information, or just to make contact with someone. They want to be free to leave, be on their own, and make their own decisions, but they also need someone available. He was more eloquent, and probably had more to say, but this is the gist of what I remember. And so, I don’t press too hard, and I let students set the tone and depth of what they want to discuss. If the chat is 3 minutes or 30 minutes, that is ok. I have been following Tim’s guidance ever since.  

Many tell us that in college advising and mentoring, we need to make sure that students—young adults—make their own decisions. Tim’s advice fits that goal. Be available, offer counsel, encourage, then let them go, knowing they have support but will also be responsible for the decisions they make.

One other new practice has developed, sort of on its own over the last couple of years. One day in class, with a paper due in a few days, I announced that I would read and make suggestions on papers if students sent them to me at least a day before they were due. To my surprise several students took me up on it. 

I’ve developed a simple pattern of making suggestions for things they might consider in the final revision of a paper.  I do not grade them, tell them what their grades might be, revise for them, or proof read.  I simply make suggestions. They range from “you might want to proofread very carefully and make sure your work is grammatical,” to “look at the actual assignment, you do not seem to be addressing it directly.”  Or it might be about the topic: “look at the reading again; have you covered all of the most important points?” I might suggest that they test their logic, that they make sure they include a topic or thesis statement, that their conclusion flows from the body of the paper. I might offer some guidance on the meaning of a term or remind them of the historical context they are working within. I read through their paper and offer a few lines to prod them to deeper thinking, clearer writing (the two go together), and more thoughtful analysis. In a class of 50 students, 5-10% of the students might take me up on it, depending on the pressures of that particular time of the semester.

There is one additional benefit. I remind them often that good academic work is not about dashing off their first thoughts. Good papers and learning are the result of considered thinking and writing, developed and reconsidered over time. This means that they must write a paper, set it aside, go back to it, revise it to make sure it addresses questions and presents thoughts well and deeply, flows logically and reads grammatically. Reading follows the same pattern. We don’t get everything the first time we read it. We have to read, let it simmer in our minds, go back to it and stir again. If a few students plan their work so that they get a draft done a day earlier than they might have otherwise, and then take the time to revise it carefully, that is an added benefit. It takes me an hour or two for each assignment, but it has become one of my standard practices—I set aside time for it. It also makes grading enjoyable. I can see the progress some of the students have made. They seem to be proud of that progress.

So, if you thought that professors mostly just hang out in coffee shops, talk with students, and avoid real work, well, you were at least partially correct! Thanks to Tim and Melanie, and my other colleagues who continue to teach me how to teach. (I’ve revised this piece several times…)

A procession in St. Mark’s Square, Venice (1496)—more information is provided through the link at the very end of this post. We are headed to Italy this June and July, 16 of us so far—alumni and friends of FPU. (You can find out more about the tour on the FPU Alumni web page.) There are many benefits to travel, beyond sheer enjoyment, and being able to go with friends (and soon to be friends).  Part of the fun of it is the anticipation and thinking about what we will see, try and do. As I have turned to the more detailed preparation, I have begun to look at things that the group or individuals might want to consider. We have planned group events, tours, etc.  and have allotted ample free time and days to explore as we may choose. Here are some things I’m thinking about, and others might want to consider too. Our first stop is Venice! Italy Guides has a good overview of sites in Venice.  If you dig into them individually, you will find multiple things. The Doge’s palace is a must! Venice was one of the great medieval and early modern republics. Some brief, history can be found on YouTube and on other sites. (Here is a good history site. There are lots of inadequate and misleading sites, so check on who writes them and what they are for.)  If you do a YouTube search on “Venice” there are lots of other things to look at, some longer, some shorter.  There are travel shows and videos, like Rick Steve’s series, some of which can be found on YouTube. There are a couple of special topics that might be of interest as well. Venice was one of the great Jewish centers in the early modern world, and perhaps the first Ghetto. Jews from central Europe and elsewhere traded there, and Sephardic Jews expelled from Spain and Portugal in 1492 at the end of the reconquest found refuge in the larger Venetian Jewish community. In 2016, the 500^th anniversary of the founding of the Jewish ghetto was commemorated, one of the events being the first performance in Venice of Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice with Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg as the judge in the play’s trial scene. And we cannot leave out some of the art that we will see. The art of each city and building has a story. Some of the art we will see was developed by the “confraternities” of the medieval and early modern world. These were what might be called religious brotherhoods, composed of both clerics and laypeople, usually with a dual dedication to prayer and other devotional practices and to practical forms of charity, mutual assistance or charity. They were patrons of art like the piece that leads this post. You can find some interesting things about them at smarthistory a non-profit educational site that works with museums worldwide. And this is just our first city!

The following little interchange comes from a Dilbert comic that was printed this week. I read it and laughed. Guy with a goatee, “Hi. I’m very smart, but I don’t know how to do anything.” Dilbert, “Where did you get your PH.D?” Goatee, “I didn’t say I have a PH.D.” Dilbert, “You kinda did.” I suppose I found it funny because I’ve heard it before, I’ve experienced it, and its kinda true. It reminded me of one of the stories told multiple times about C. S. Lewis. He finished his Oxford degree, and his family supported him for an extra year to study an additional subject, English literature, while he looked for a position as a fellow at one of the Oxford colleges. He struggled to find a position teaching philosophy, and his family worried that if he did not find a position, there was nothing else he could do to support himself. He finally found a position in English, but never earned a PH.D. The story still is applicable. His first academic book became a classic that graduate students working on Ph.Ds. in medieval literature still must read, an “eroding classic” as one of my graduate professors, himself a student of Lewis’s, called it. Several Lewis’s students went on to earn their own doctorates and became prominent as scholars. Lewis didn’t need one. Those of us who have been through it, understand the Dilbert cartoon, even if we don’t like it. But there is something deeper here that we and our students must come to grips with. I’ll try to explain it from my experience and from working as an academic administrator with a couple of dozen professors who have finished their doctorates while working at FPU over the last two decades, and other large group hired with new degrees in hand. It may well be true that those with the PH.D are not the most practical of people. That is for the simple reason that they are deliberately trained not to be.  The final part of their academic program is the dissertation. They must essentially write a book, where they focus on a narrow topic that no one has worked on before, resolve a problem, dig out all the relevant evidence, test or apply theories with which they are working, develop an original solution, and defend it against any and all challenges. This is enough to train one to think, “I’m very smart.” And for others to think and sometimes say you “don’t know how to do anything.” The deeper issue, it seems to me, is not either of these responses, however.  It is rather that the work we do in earning a typical doctorate is in itself intellectually destabilizing. We learn to focus intently on a very small problem. We zero in on the evidence and look for every bit of it possible to find. We interpret the evidence in multiple ways. We argue as strongly as possible to defend our thesis. We may apply a particular theoretical perspective and argue that it is the appropriate and most correct, or only correct theory. And we are trained to defend it—if we can’t defend it, the degree is not granted. In addition, by the time we are done, we may have spent several years thinking about it. We’ve been absorbed in it so long, and so intently, that it has become such a part of us that it has taken over our way of thinking and seeing. We loose balance and might sound like we think we are experts in lots of other things. Or we sound like we are so narrow in our understanding that we are of no practical relevance. In my experience, it sometimes takes up to five years to regain balance, to see it all in a broader perspective and recognize that it really was small thing in the great scheme not only of life, but even of our subject matter. I have watched numbers of our professors go through the pattern of over-concentration, exacting thoroughness on a relatively minor issue, intense defense of their work or claims, to arrive after few years at a more balanced perspective, appreciative of other conclusions and perspectives. I should be transparent and say that after I finished my dissertation, I put it aside for about 5 years out of fear that it was probably not worth much, and because I was frankly tired of it. I read it after that and thought that the argument still worked,  but that there we several sections that needed revision before publishing it, even sections I was earlier ready to defend without reserve. I was relieved that it still seemed generally to make sense. I read it another fifteen years later or so and discovered that there was one section that I wasn’t sure I understood and was pretty sure I had muddled up. It’s after those five years, or whatever it takes, that we really become creative teachers and scholars, and perhaps we learn to do something. Our students learn to put up with us. They recognize our enthusiasms. Where else can you find people who are intrigued by problems that others have not even thought of, but which might have relevance, continuing importance, and offer insight to students? If we are sometime a little eccentric, laugh with us. We recognize it. It is, in my experience, an occupational hazard. I haven’t mentioned how all of this plays out in university meetings, the attempt to formulate a policy or plan, and to get agreement on practical solutions to problems. But you can find this addressed in a number of comic novels set in universities. They will make you laugh. I, for one, am happy to be the source of your enjoyment. I laugh too.