BAE12: Anastas's "The Foul Reign of 'Self-Reliance'"

I'm always amazed when an unintended theme seems to pop up in a class.  And, so far, these early weeks of ENG 360 have included an unintended concern with Emerson and self-reliance.  I suppose this is probably as much a theme of David Brooks's (the BAE editor for 2012) and not merely my own, but, nevertheless....  

I have to say, first of all, that I really like Emerson--what I teach of him, anyway.   In my sections of American Literature: Survey I, I usually assign "The American Scholar" and "Nature."  There are problems/issues with each of these, but, as a whole, I find myself drawn to some of the key themes and the most memorable passages.  I don't teach "Self-Reliance," and I'm not entirely sure why.  But I'm pretty sure, now, that I'll be recalling--and perhaps addressing--some of Anastas's perspectives when Emerson comes up again next spring, particularly since Anastas hits some concerns that I already address--the tension between the American ideals of individual autonomy and opportunity (CF: John Smith), on the one hand, and the still-oft-quoted emphasis on community (CF: John Winthrop) on the other hand.  

I was particularly struck by the following passage from Emerson that Anastas quotes:  “Most men have bound their eyes with one or another handkerchief and attached themselves to … communities of opinion” (3).  I was reminded of another essay—an essay that series editor Robert Atwan quotes in his preface: David Foster Wallace’s “Deciderization2007—a Special Report,” which was the introduction to the Best American Essays: 2007.  Wallace asserts that in our current  culture we’re surrounded by “Total Noise”:

“[…] a culture and volume of info and spin and rhetoric and context that I know I’m not alone in finding too much to even absorb, much less try to make and sense of or organize into any kind of triage of saliency or value.  Such basic absorption, organization, and triage used to be what was required of an educated adult, a.k.a. and informed citizen—at least that’s what I got taught.  Suffice it here to say that the requirements now seem different.”

Between the two of these essays, one gets the sense of a perfect storm; we’re both living in a culture that inundates us with so much information that we tend to just pick a voice to listen to—a “decider,” in Wallace’s terms—and living in a cultural tradition, derived from Emerson, that inclines us to simply embrace our own self-serving worldview and shut out any voices that might challenge us.

A couple of final notes….  I really enjoyed the snark/humor that Anastas uses in the essay.  Also, for those of you enrolled in ENG 360U, keep this essay in mind when we get around to talking about the rhetorical analysis essay.  Anastas is essentially doing a bit of rhetorical analysis when he discusses the “Think Different”commercial for Apple in 1997.

BAE12: Edmundson's "Who Are You and What Are You Doing Here?"

First, let me say that I want to read more of Mark Edmundson's writing.  While I will quibble with some of his assertions, I mostly found myself cheering along.  While reading “Who Are You and What Are You Doing Here?” one appreciates Mark Edmundson’s willingness to share—well, not his experiences in higher education, really, but the conclusions he’s drawn from those experiences.  For the most part, his conclusions align with my own experiences, as well.  There are places where I think he overstates things a bit, but these may simply be the differing experiences we’ve accumulated—Edmundson as a high-profile professor at one of the nation’s most prestigious universities, and me at a Christian liberal arts college on the northern plains.  For example, he asserts:

The work they [faculty] are compelled to do to advance—get tenure, promotion, raises, outside offers—is, broadly speaking, scholarly work.  No matter what anyone says, this work has precious little to do with the fundamentals of teaching. (91)

There is truth in this, particularly for academics in the “big leagues,” I suspect.  However, my own experience is that the research and scholarly work required or encouraged feeds the teaching, and the teaching generally sparks the possibilities for research.  Much of Edmundson’s essay admonishes the undergraduate student to understand that whether he or she gets an education is largely up to the individual student.  I think the same is true of the role research and scholarly work plays for faculty.  If a faculty member prioritizes teaching, then the research will be more likely to be relevant.  If the faculty member sees teaching and research as two distinct concerns, then then, yes, it’s easiest for the faculty member to prioritize the concern that is recognized and privileged by the institution.  

While I could nit-pick the particulars of Edmundson’s essay, I think the foundations of it are pretty accurate.  At the center of his assertions is a distinction between schooling/credentialing and education: “Education has one salient enemy in present-day America, and that enemy is education—university education in particular.  To almost everyone, university education is a means to and end” (91).  And, as a result of this, “The students and professors have made a deal: neither of them has to throw himself heart and soul into what happens in the classroom” (92).  Edmundson has a pretty compelling take on the reasons for this unwillingness to engage in really meaningful, personal ways.  There are legal issues; there are market-based factors; there are political demands that diminish our collective understanding and ideal for education to percentiles on standardized tests.  

The irony, however, is that much of the reason for the lack of engagement—and all the factors that contribute to that lack—might also be the Emersonian self-reliance that Edmundson touts as an ideal.  It is a version of this self-reliance that generates our litigiousness and the lingering concern with legal issues, that leads universities and colleges to appeal to individual students as consumers, that leads us to prioritize “objective” forms of assessment (e.g., standardized tests).  In order to throw ourselves “heart and soul into what happens in the classroom” (92), in order to explore questions about whether “the books contain truths you could live your lives by” (99), we all have to be willing to enter into a meaningful level of community that enables and allows us to share our lives with one another.  We have to be willing to be subject to one another, to forgive perceived slights, to entertain alternative (and sometimes ignorant or distasteful) perspectives.  This sort of community is messy, sometimes dangerous, and certainly at odds with both the size and the market-driven motivations of the contemporary university or college.

So, yes, Edmundson is right to tell today’s students that receiving an education, rather than merely a degree, will be their responsibility.  However, receiving the type of education that Edmundson nobly envisions will require community.  The challenge for students is not simply one of asserting their own identity and relying on themselves.  The challenge is finding, perhaps creating, and caring for pockets of community within the institution, because the size and shape of contemporary education doesn’t lend itself well to forming such communities.

University Diaries

One of the blogs I read regularly is titled University Diaries. Written by Margaret Soltan, an English professor at George Washington University, the blog takes a critical look at the contemporary university.

Recently, one of Soltan's posts ("What's a University?") begins by considering the damage done when universities are viewed--and administered--as businesses. The same post concludes with Soltan's commentary on an opinion piece written by an undergraduate economics major. In this piece, the student articulates the conventional "What will all this stuff do for me?" question. (CF: Arthur Holmes.)

Soltan's post is worth reading, as is an article by Mark Slouka, titled "Dehumanized: When Math and Science Rule the School," which was published in the September 2009 issue of Harper's and referenced by one of the commentators on Soltan's post.

Links to both pieces are included below:

Soltan, Margaret. "What's a University."
Slouka, Mark. "Dehumanized: When Math and Science Rule the School."

If you visit University Diaries, be sure to click on the tag "Scathing Online Schoolmarm."

One Thing Leads to Another

First, gotta love the Fixx. Another one of those weird convergence moments hit yesterday. To explain it, I need to go back. Last year, I applied for and was one of three persons interviewed for a position at a large state university. The committee decided not to make a hire, which, objectively, I can see was a wise choice for everyone involved. While I believe I could have done the job well, it meant redefining my professional life in ways I wasn't sure I wanted to pursue so singlemindedly. And, from their end, I didn't have some qualifications they desired--like a publication record or administrative experience at a university with a larger, more diverse student body. (Of course, I could have simply come across as a moron. One doesn't really get feedback after such interviews.) In any event, I don't know that I would have been a good fit for the job nor the job for me. But, as I told some friends, "It's one thing to not want to go to the party. It's another to not be invited."

Fast forward back to the present. After reading Wendell Berry's essay "The Unsettling of America" and beginning to consider what it might mean to pursue "settlement" in my life, my profession, etc., I stumble across the web to find a brief announcement about the aforementioned position being filled. I wasn't experiencing much in the way of "settlement," I'm afraid. Mostly indignation and dissatisfaction. Not because of the person who was hired, but because I wasn't.

So what do I do? I start Googling. I skim a couple of articles from the new hire's admirable vita. Insecurities surface. Indignation. Resentment and regret over all the choices that led me to where and who I am. The prideful part of me starts to reassure myself that I could have the new hire's vita if I really wanted it. I consider downloading the new hire's picture and using it as a motivational wallpaper on my computer's desktop. I start thinking about the school loans that could have been paid with the salary I would have made. Should have made....

About half way through the second article, however, I begin to realize that--admirable as the articles are--they aren't the kind of thing I really want to do. They are the kind of specialized scholarship that simply doesn't excite me. Perhaps I've been thoroughly converted to the liberal arts mindset, but I still hope to find a way to write (and perhaps publish) regularly and productively without having to select a narrow academic specialty.

So, I never downloaded the new hire's photo for my wallpaper (but I won't rule it out just yet), and I'm in the process of re-establishing an awkward peace about the whole thing. The peace comes from knowing that my insecurities and indignation arise from a prideful desire for a salary and position that aren't really connected with what I want to do. The awkwardness comes from the questions that linger after reading Berry--questions about the distinctions between "settlement" and merely "settling."