Tracy Revels

Vanity, Thy Name Is-

-College students.  At least, according to CNN and Professor Jean Twenge of San Diego State University.  Twenge and her colleagues made news yesterday when they announced that they had examined the responses of 16,474 college students who completed an evaluation called the Narcissistic Personality Index, and found that the scores have been consistently rising since they began giving the test in 1982.  In other words, kids are getting more and more ME focused, a trend Twenge blames on permissive parenting and the constant self-esteem boosting exercises that schools have implemented since the 1980s.  While feeling "special" and overly confident might help one win at American Idol, Twenge warns that modern young people are basically on a highway to hell with a mirror in one hand and a cell phone in the other.

To a certain extent, I agree with the professor's observations.  Yes, I have known many students who are narcissistic.  I have taught kids who didn't give a damn about the rest of the world, were focused only on making money and having a "great life."  Every professor at Wofford could tell similar horror stories.

But I'm also a bit skeptical of this "revelation."  Professor Twenge has a book out called GENERATION ME: WHY TODAY'S YOUNG AMERICANS ARE MORE CONFIDENT, ASSERTIVE, ENTITLED---AND MORE MISERABLE THAN EVER BEFORE.  It must be nice to have CNN pick up your workshop presentations at the same time you have a nonfiction book to hawk!  So of course the professor wants to paint the direst picture possible.  She criticizes technology, pointing out that "MySpace encourages attention-seeking, as does YouTube."  What were they supposed to be called---SomeoneElse'sSpace or OtherPersonTube?  And forget it if a student tries to show she is civic-minded by doing volunteer work; Twinge says it's only another way to get attention on a college application.

While I will agree that many students are narcissistic, I could just as easily say the same thing about faculty members.  Heck, this blog is technically narcissistic.  I asked Wofford for it because I enjoy writing; that must make me a prima donna.  I'd hate to see what I'd rate on her scale.

Here's what really gets to me---yes, every generation has its problems and its unattractive qualities.  But to dismiss an entire generation in one catchphrase is unfair.  Not every Baby Boomer indulged in sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll.  Not every Jazz Baby of the 1920 danced the Charleston.  Not every Gen Xer is technologically hip.  And I am so tired of the phrase "Greatest Generation"---yes, the people who lived and fought in World War II were amazing and should be dutifully honored, but were they really 'greater' than the generation that won our independence from England, or the one that held the Union together during the Civil War?

While generational labels may be helpful in compartmentalizing attitudes through time, or generalizing about mass experiences, I hate to see them applied on a one-to-one basis.  None of our current Wofford students could help when they were born or how they were brought up by their parents.  These are factors beyond their control.  What they do control is how they behave once they get here.  Sure, many of them will probably be just as shallow as this study claims.  And if they behave that way I will put them in that crowd.  But I think everyone should have a chance to grow and change; every student should be considered filled with potential to be a good person, rather than dismissed out of hand as a bad one.

I wonder if Professor Twenge thinks there was a "golden age" when all young people were unselfish and kind and sharing.  Nostalgia is a very dangerous thing; many academics think times were so much better when they were in school.  But as a historian, I can show you the documents---I can demonstrate that students have always considered their teachers to be too strict/boring/out-of-touch/ etc just as teachers have considered their students to be a bunch of louts interested only in lewd behavior and as little academic work as possible.  And I'm not talking about just the 1950s or the Victorian Age, I can take you all the way back to Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia.

So, take a deep breath everyone.  Yes, today's parents should probably not be so permissive (I'll volunteer my mom to teach the class on how to set standards!) and schools should be spending more time on math, science, languages and history and less time singing the "I'm Special" song.  But until a Generation Me person proves otherwise, I'll give him or her the benefit of the doubt, assume he/she is all right, mainly because I hope he/she will be giving the same latitude to this Baby Boomer (But Only A Year).

A Simple Failure?

During the last week of interim, my class had a discussion about the idea of voluntary simplicity. Wofford's Associate Chaplain Lyn Pace guided us through a reading and a consideration of what it would mean to be less materialistic.  He did such a terrific job that I decided maybe I should give this idea a try.  I don't want to be a hypocrite in the classroom, and try to sell an idea about rejecting the affluence we take for granted without at least trying to embrace it for a time, to test its value.  I considered it an experiment.

So for the past month I made it a point to keep up with literally every penny I spent, and to ask myself "do I really need this" for every purchase.  I made a list of ten things that I felt I could reasonably give up (such as my Netflix subscription) and no-cost things that I should do more of (take walks, go to the Wofford gym, work on my research).  I even set rules for myself about staying away from the mall and magazines, and bringing my lunch.

So what was the end result of all this?  A very mixed bag.

On the positive side, I've almost finished an essay that I agreed to do for a new book collection.  It isn't due until June 1st, but now I know I'll have time to revise, etc. without being rushed at the end of school.  I've been better prepared for my classes and I've caught up on a lot of reading that had been pushed aside because I kept getting distracted by other things.  I finally straightened my office (a relief to my colleagues, I'm sure!) and I was able to cut my personal spending down to less than half of what it was in January.  I also lost two pounds of weight.

But on the down side, I missed a lot of things.  And I cheated more than I should have.  I went to a movie, I bought a book and a CD, and I only hit the gym twice. Just doing without did not conquer envy; in fact, if sometimes engendered self-righteousness, which is probably worse.  I can't say that the experiment made me a better person in the least.  I look at some of the people I know at Wofford who have embraced an almost monastic existence, bordering on sainthood, and I realize that as much as I admire and honor them, I will never be able to walk in their shoes.

So how should I write this one up---and what could I tell students about it?  The one thing that I am 100% sure of is that by keeping close records, actually counting the 55 cents for potato chips and making the conscious choice not to drink fancy coffee, I felt more empowered.  I didn't have to ask at the end of the day 'where did my money go'?  My VISA bill will make a lot more sense to me now.  I also felt like I didn't fritter away my other resources, especially my time.  There's a wonderful little bit of comedy performed by Hugh Laurie (yes, Dr. House himself!) where he announces that he has written a song called "Time, Where Did You Go?"  The joke is that he has only one line of the song, the title---time has so gotten away from him that the song isn't finished.  I haven't had to wonder about my time this month; I can see its results recorded in a fashion that would make an economic historian jump for joy.

Ultimately, though, I'm not sure that the Greeks don't have one up on the Christian hermits.  I like feeling more knowledgeable about my resources, but I don't like feeling that I have to reject the fruits of honest labor.  I work hard here, and over the years I have bought things that many people would say I did not need (big house, nice car, Ragdoll cat, pink leopard spotted shoes...).  I'd rather enjoy life at the happy medium, being responsible in savings (with the goal of early retirement!) but also not feeling guilty over a dinner out or a new dress.  I've failed at sainthood, and I could never be a Shaker or jump on the Amish wagon, but I'm glad that I tried the experiment because I do want to keep learning the kinds of things that life, not books, have to teach.

One Soul's Journey

I was absolutely delighted on Sunday morning when one of my students attended the service at the Palmetto Moravian Fellowship.  Ever since last August, when I started going to worship services there, they have been asking me when I was going to bring a student.  My response is usually "Wofford students can't roll out of bed by 9am on a Sunday."  It was very nice to be proved wrong.  Of course, everyone in our little group had to tease the student about whether his Sunday appearance would improve his grade!  (It won't---though I did promise to not pick on him in class on Wednesday.)  I think the reason he came is that he has a very deep interest in religion and enjoys attending many different kinds of services and learning about church traditions.  He's also considering a religious vocation.

I was pleased beyond words, not because I expect him to join my church, but simply because it is so good to see a young person with the initiative to go out in the community, to attend different churches with an open mind and heart.  That's the kind of thing we can't actually "teach," but some students still---much to our delight---manage to learn.

This young person is on more than a tour of Spartanburg churches.  He's on a soul's journey to find where he belongs and how he will serve his God and his world.  I hope that his Wofford education is providing him with a good map for the trip.

I Love My Major Professor

After today's convocation, I gave my major professor a call.  Every PHD has stories about his or her dissertation director.  I feel blessed that all of my stories are good ones.

Dr. William Warren Rogers is now retired from teaching, but not from work.  He's the publisher behind Sentry Press (which has produced many very nice books on Florida) and has multiple research projects of his own coming out soon.  Articles, essays, reviews, his work ethic is exhausting just to listen to---not to mention how he keeps up with his four children and small herd of grandchildren.

I tell people that Dr. Rogers reminds me of the character Matlock.  He doesn't solve murder cases (though he does write about them), but he has the same classic Southern drawl, wit, and charm that Andy Griffith radiates on screen.  He is the epitome of the gentleman scholar.  It doesn't matter that I've been away from FSU for 16 years now, I still call him up advice and direction.

When I was in graduate school and Dr. Rogers had a tribe of PHD candidates, he would always take the time, while doing his own research, to make notes of things that he felt would help us.  I have information and footnotes in my work that I would have never found just stumbling around on my own. It wasn't something he had to do---but he did it to show us how to be better historians, and how to help our future students.  He was a careful editor, always threatening to take away my "purple pen."  Whenever I find a bad cliche to kill, I slay it in his honor!

It made me feel so good to talk to Dr. Rogers, to get the boost and advice I need about my new project.  As usual, he set some tasks for me that will be challenging, but that's part of why I turn to him.

On a day when we were asked to think about Wofford's future and what we can do to improve it, I can only hope that someday I can live up to the example Dr. Rogers set for me.  If I could just do that, maybe I'd be worthy of my spot in this gloriously renovated building, with such important ties to everyone who has ever been (or will be) a Wofford student.

The Really Big Tent

I get rather upset whenever I hear that someone has been mocking one of our majors, chiding him or her for the choice of history as opposed to something *important* like biology, computer science, or psychology.  My first responsive is to get defensive---nobody messes with MY majors---and consider hitting the offending party over the head with Shelby Foote's Civil War Trilogy.

But such violence is unnecessary.  Once I calm down, I remind myself that every field of study at Wofford College is valuable and honorable.  Where would we be without the philosophers to ask the big questions about the meaning of life, or the biologists to examine the working parts of life, or the accountants to show us how to tally the money we make during life?  It's hard to imagine a college without religion professors to challenge what we thought we learned in Sunday School or English professors to tell us what the Dickens those great authors were saying with all that symbolism. (And to shame us for puns as bad as that one!)  No major could be jettisoned, every field in a liberal arts college has its place.

And the great thing about history is that it embraces them all.

Perhaps you can study biology without history, but if you don't know any history, then how can you understand the great progress that scientists have made, and the way that biological discoveries (for example, vaccination) have affected mankind?  Certainly no student of history could look at population statistics without wondering what medical advances (or blunders) could lurk behind them.

Perhaps you can study the Bible without knowing anything about the Ancient World, but to do so would be to sacrifice the context, to ignore the very people who wrote the words that have shaped so much of history.  And flipping through a well-illustrated Bible, you might wonder why the artwork portraying Christ changes depending on the century when each piece was produced.  Jesus is still Jesus, so what gives?  Maybe it was something that happened in history and changed the way artists felt inspired (or commanded) to depict Christ.  Consider this as well--the translation of the Bible you are reading is definitely a reflection of historical developments as much as it is an example of the evolution of language.

Could any psychologist really discuss Freud without talking about the world he lived in, or how his theories has been received, embraced, rejected, or challenged over the past century?  And what's the point of teaching rats to dunk basketballs if there's not something to be learned that will help us understand our own developmental history as a species?  (Unless, of course, we're planning a Rat Basketball League.  Think of the merchandising potential!  Who should we market those t-shirts to and how much can we charge?  Gee, maybe we should consult some retail history!)

Face it, people who put history majors down---you can't get out of bed, take a shower, go to Burwell, or watch The O.C. without, in some way, confronting history.  You can not study any subject without its historical perspective. You are living and breathing history at this very moment.  History happens in every heartbeat, unless you die.  And then you're---say it with me---history!

You may never make a great scientific discovery.  You may never write a Pulitzer prize winning novel.  You may never receive a Nobel prize in Economics.  But if you are old enough to be reading and comprehending this blog, you have been a part of history, you have already felt a moment when the world changed.  You have been forced (even if history isn't your 'deal') to deal with it.

Remember?  It was called 9/11.

I'm not saying history is greatest major at Wofford because I believe they are ALL great majors, taught by dedicated faculty and studied by some of the best young people in the world.  Nor would I ever argue that everyone should be a history major.  As much as I love to joke around with our majors and say things like "let's see the average chem major pass History260, shall we?" I recognize that everyone has a purpose, plan, and calling in life, and that Wofford kids should learn to respect their peers and their majors.  Wofford students should be proud of each other.  You are, after all, family.

The way I look at it, history serves as a big tent, looming over all the other majors as they put on a show.  Shielded by the worn canvas of the past, we get a better view of why everything within the tent is so important.  Far above all the performers, we can see the circus below (I'll let you decide for yourself who the clowns are) in both its chaos and its symmetry.

 

On Going Gray

As the whole world chatters about Brittany's shaved head, I feel a bit justified in obsessing over my own hair.

I'm going gray.   Every morning, when I start the routine of blow-drying and hot-rolling my hair, I see more and more shiny, silvery strands.  On my last visit home, my mother asked when I planned to "do something" about it and my best friend from high school nearly burst into tears, begging me not to "grow old."

Strange, I didn't really think I had any choice about aging, but maybe those people down in Florida, who drink from the Fountain of Youth, know something I don't.

From one perspective, it doesn't seem like such a bad thing.  After all, if you call up central casting and ask for a "professor" type, there's a very good chance you'll get someone with gray hair and tweeds.  The color radiates wisdom and authority.  All my role models at FSU were snowy on top---my beloved major professor was a dead ringer for Matlock with his white hair and sear-sucker suits.  FSU had a dearth of female professors, and the few that I knew were also gray and carried their age with regal dignity.

Another part of me thinks that I'd like to buck the system.  It seems unfair that after all women have gone through in this nation, our centuries of struggle for basic rights, we would still care what color someone's hair is, or say that a man becomes a 'silver fox' while a woman degenerates into a 'hag' who 'doesn't take care of herself.'  As someone who has spent several interims studying the culture of advertising and materialism, I don't want to become another consumer sheep, shepherded by the idea that a woman can never be happy with herself, and must always be on the path of makeovers and innovations.  I look in the mirror and tell myself that I earned every gray hair---it's not just a matter of genetics.  It's a road map of the work, the research, the writing.  Most of it probably comes from worrying about teaching, from wondering every day if what I said in class has sunk in, has jarred a student from the stupor of video games and Facebook. And a lot of it grows out of the questions that I share with an increasing number of Americans---will I end up alone?  Will my career bring me lasting happiness?  Will the polar ice caps melt?

But---on the other hand---if I'm uneasy with my gray hairs, I don't have to keep them that color.  Relief is a bottle away!  Nobody is going to condemn me if I decide tomorrow to be a redhead, or a brunette, or flip around a cascade of blonde highlights.  Look how far women have come from the days when even a spot of rouge on the cheeks caused gossipy speculation about a lady's lack of virtue!  We have such incredible freedom to invent ourselves, mentally and cosmetically. A new color can mean empowerment and pleasure. My female students change their hair color every time they get bored or dump a boyfriend, and my mother has been coloring her hair since the year I was born.  Plus, there are plenty of tools to help me choose; personalized computer simulations showing what a woman will look like with a new color or cut are a dime a dozen on the Internet.  It's far from the guessing game that it used to be.  Oh, the joys of technology.

Perhaps I'm just an example of the typical academic, prone to over-analyze everything.  I can sit down and make as many arguments for a hairstyle change as I can against it.  One of my professors in junior college once remarked that I was the most analytical student she had ever taught.  I took that as a high compliment, even as I wondered if she knew how bad I was at math.  It's only now that I get what she meant, and that I can fully understand the way we're trained in this profession.  We take things apart, we examine many angles, we look for evidence pro and con.  And as a result, some of us (OK, maybe just ME) get stuck when real life doesn't reflect the textbooks and primary documents.

One of my students told me she was curious as to how my mind worked.  Well, my dear, if you are reading this, now you know.  It doesn't work like a well-oiled machine.  It debates and stumbles and is much happier when it's simply 'getting down to the business' of teaching.  If it could just do that all the time, and never be required to think about anything else, I'd probably be happy 24-7.

And, as the English humorist P.G. Wodehouse said, there is a cure for gray hair.  It was invented by a Frenchman and is called the guillotine!

Bouncing Baby Historian!

Congratulations to my history department colleague Dr. Clayton Whisnant and his wife Megan on the birth of their son, Paul DeMoss Whisnant, early this morning.  Paul weighs in at a hearty 9 lbs, 12 oz.  We hear that the new baby, mom, dad, brother and sister are all doing fine!

Dialing History Long Distance

One of the biggest frustrations I face as a historian is that history usually isn't where I am.

I consider myself a nineteenth-century American historian, with a special emphasis on women and Florida.  Recently, a colleague at another college asked me to write an essay on a prominent Florida woman for a book he's putting together.  It's the kind of thing I really enjoy doing, pulling together a biographical sketch, highlighting an individual's most important contributions.  I love personalities.  My students would readily tell you that I'm always telling stories about kings, queens, reformers, etc.  The odder the better (and some of those European monarchs were pretty strange!).  My subject for this essay (as seen in the picture) is Ellen Call Long.  The daughter of Richard Keith Call, one of Florida's territorial governors, she was a Unionist at heart if a Confederate in action, and the fragments of her diary reveal fascinating insights into the mind of a Southerner dealing with the fallout of the Civil War.  In the late 1800s, she worked for Florida's development, encouraging tourism and agricultural innovation, representing the state at many of the national exhibitions that enlivened the period.  She even wrote a kind of tell-all novel that got her in hot water with the locals, who saw themselves in her unflattering character portraits.

My problem, however, is that so many of the good sources I'd like to be looking at are in Florida.  I'm lucky to have a lot of things already, since Ellen appeared many times in GRANDER IN HER DAUGHTERS.  But now I keep finding new bits and pieces, many of which are gathering dust down at the Florida State Archives in Tallahassee and the Florida Historical Society Collection in Cocoa.

Is it Spring Break yet?

Fortunately, the Wofford Library does a terrific job on interlibrary loan.  I've yet to stumble upon a book or article that they can't find.  I know I've said it before, but people here really don't give the librarians enough credit for the fine work that they do.

Some things, though, can't travel or be xeroxed.  So I suspect that I will be spending some of my time off in the archives instead of at the beach, since my friend wants the article finished by the first of June.  And as I'm sure my students would say, "that's just wrong."

I recently had an argument with a student over the term "history geek."  I insisted that nobody should go by that nickname.  But I have to confess, on a day when having books and notes scattered everywhere makes me happy, maybe my student is right.

Who Owns History?

The most frequently asked question about my American Women's History class is "are there any boys taking it?"

Sometimes I can treat that question with amusement.  I confess that I'm always curious to see the early results of class registration on Banner, to find out what the girl/guy division will be.  But at other times I find myself a bit resentful of the manner in which the question is often asked---as if having males in the classroom makes it a more "legitimate" course.  And there's frequently the implication that a guy taking the class would have to have some motive other than a genuine interest in the subject, because no "real man" would want to learn about women's history.

Imagine if such inane rules were applied across the board.  Americans can only learn about American history.  Europeans can only study European history.  Only African-Americans can study Black history, and no Hispanic person should ever consider a class in Asian history.  Only soldiers get to take military history, and we will only admit scientists to a history of science class.

The idea that we should only be interested in the field closest to our own race/ethnic/regional/gender/hair color category is ridiculous.  It would likewise be absurd to say that only women can teach or study women's history---or that only Southerners can write about the Confederacy.  If such strict rules were applied, there wouldn't even be a history department at Wofford!

History does not "belong" to any particular group of people.  History is our shared legacy, our inheritance as human beings.  And the last time I checked---unless the folks over in Miliken Science Building are up to something I haven't heard about---we are all humans.  Love of history, in all its forms and specializations, is something to be shared.  I admire students who are willing to break the mold, get out of their comfort zones and be open to new ideas and interpretations.  And I don't teach Women's history because I'm a woman, I teach it because I find it fascinating.

I believe (or at least I hope) that Wofford students have bigger minds and hearts than to close themselves off to new and unfamiliar subjects because someone says "why are you taking THAT?"

Getting Back Into Spring Semester Shape

I'm grateful for the start of second semester.  As much fun as interim can be, there's something reassuring about the routine of being "back in school."  It's good to see colleagues and students again, to hear their stories of adventures in travel and internships.  Some look fit and tan, others look exhausted, but they all seem happy to be home.  I have this fear that somehow---if there really is an end to the earth---a Wofford student will manage to find it, and fall off of it, probably with a professor tumbling right behind.

As always at the start of a new term, I make promises to myself.  I tell myself that I won't get behind, that I will do all my own readings several days in advance and go over the notes at least 12 hours (rather than 5 minutes) before the class.  I will lay out my clothes before I go to bed so that I will not be wondering 'where IS that iron?' at 8 in the morning.  I'll even change my purse to match my outfit.

Right.  We'll see how long those resolutions last!

One thing I seriously want to do this semester is get back into the habit of going to the Fitness Center.  Two years ago, my doctor gave me all sorts of dire warnings about my cholesterol levels.  Those people who know my size are probably surprised by this, but I spent a summer doing without anything that tasted good, only to have the levels go up rather than down as a result.  Exercise appears to be the only thing that zaps this genetic disposition, so in theory I should be getting a cardio workout at least 3-4 times a week.  And again, those people who know me in person are probably laughing because they know that I am the most nonathletic person on the planet.  My sport was quiz bowl, not basketball or tennis!  But I am determined that I can go to the gym at least three days a week and walk on the treadmill.  I'm not sure which is worse, the sore muscles or the embarrassment of trying to walk my pathetic mile and a half while watching some Wofford super-student run faster than a speeding bullet beside me.  Wofford has a very nice facility, and I feel fortunate that faculty members are allowed to use it.

I just hope that our muscle-bound guys and well-toned girls will keep in mind that, one day, they too will be middle-aged folks who tire easily and listen to outdated music on their iPods.

***

And---completely random but a reflection of life at Wofford---as I was composing this, three students walked into my office.  For the past hour, I've been entertained by stories of watching Nazi movies, enjoyed arguing over which is the better TV show---House or Gray's Anatomy---and learning the joys of making random noises to cover awkward social silences. 

I wasn't going to mention any of this, but they asked me to.