Tracy Revels

Tweet Tweet

I finally decided to try Twitter. As I'm sure everyone knows by now, Twitter is a service that one can use to put out short (140 characters or less) statements called 'tweets'.  In theory these little bursts of metal static can be witty or informative.  One of my pals is constantly providing links to interesting webpages about shopping, politics, and celebrity gossip.  A user can also simply note the day's activities--'headed to work, listening to NPR,' 'lunch at Jason's Deli,' 'chat with student,' etc.  

I can't imagine that Twitter is something I would want to become addicted to.  But then, I said the same think about Facebook when my students first introduced me to it!  Since that time, not only have I found that I really enjoy Facebook, but it has also helped me reconnect with old friends.  Being so pleasantly surprised by this internet phenomenon, I've promised myself I will be open to new ideas about how to manipulate the modern media. 

As a historian, I wonder what what famous figures might have tweeted if Twitter had existed in the past.  ''Accepted Cornwallis surrender, band played world upside down, USA ROCKS!'?  Or 'Taking Mary to Ford's Theater, BRB.'  Or 'Eagle landed, moon NOT cheesy.'  OK, maybe it's a good thing we didn't have Twitter around back then!

But in all seriousness, Twitter is a document of our time.  The tweets are little primary sources.  One or two alone would be bland and useless, but imagine taking them as a group; think about what a person willing to sort through the minutiae of hundreds or even thousands of posts could learn.  Sherlock Holmes could deduce a person's entire life story from his sleeve or the condition of his watch.  So too might a very clever historian, who studied the inner life of the tweets, learn a great deal about the working of the mind of his subject.  Even if I didn't know my Twitter friend very well, I would already, from just two or three days of tweets, deduce that she was interested in the law, the new supreme court nominee, and liberal politics.  Plus she needs a new suitcase.

Perhaps someday Twitter will be a important component in biography.  Or it might fade away, just another flash in the internet pan.  While I much prefer Facebook and this blog---and would much rather live mentally in my beloved 19th century---I'm willing to post tweets for awhile to see how it works and why my students love it so much.  I can't dance like my students, or understand their music, but maybe I can Twitter a bit as I try (constantly!) to keep up with this millennium.

Memorials

I hope everyone will have a happy and safe Memorial Day Weekend.  Though in theory we should be spending this time honoring the memory of America's brave men and women who have served their country, I suspect most people think of Memorial Day more as a seasonal marker---the kickoff of summer and the end of a school year, a time for first picnics and final exams.  It is rather shameful that we can often cite the millions of dollars that the latest blockbuster pulled in at the theaters, but don't know how many people have died defending our nation.

I've started reading a very thoughtful book by historian and Harvard president Drew Gilpin Faust called This Republic of Suffering: Death and the American Civil War.  It's part of my summer resolution to read some Civil War material every day to get ready to teach my first Civil War class next spring semester.  Like Faust's other works, it is well-written and absorbing, and provides details on an aspect of the war that is often overlooked by historians.  The statistic of approximately 620,000 fatalities is so horrific (especially when one considers that it equals roughly the American causalities of the Revolution, the War of 1812, the Mexican War, the Spanish-American War, World War I, World War II, and the Korean War together) that it blurs the individual suffering and trauma.  The Civil War dead become lump sums, big numbers, mass reports---no longer are they sons, brothers, fathers, and lovers.  The photographs of unburied corpses, haunting as they are, have become so familiar from their use in textbooks that students, accustomed to high body counts in video games and movies, breeze by them with barely a glance.  The Civil War has, with the passage of time, become a commodity, an event that sells books, sets the scene for popular novels and films, and provides the backdrop for re-enactors to gather to pursue the minutiae of history.  We are nearly 150 years removed from the conflict that decided America's destiny, far enough away in time that our ancestors'actions can seem quaint and romantic and deluded, all at the same instant.

I worry that a day might come when we forget the Civil War, or---perhaps even worse---we turn it into something 'Disney-fied,' as wholesome and sanitized as the pirates of the Caribbean.  I don't want to ride a wagon through a fake battlefield and watch an android Lee order a charge against a holographic McClellan, or listen to a catchy marching tune while grinning 'bummers' chase chickens and belles before torching Atlanta.  I want the Civil War to remain as it should be: grim, troubling, disturbing.  I want people to continue to debate why their forefathers fought, dissect where the American genius broke down.  I want us to have to face the issue of slavery and own up to the tragedy of an institution that was so at odds with our stated ideals. 

Most of all, I want Americans to remember that every one of those 620,000 men was someone who mattered.  He left behind people who loved him, depended on him.  Each man who died in blue or in gray had friends and family, was a member of a community.  Someone missed him when he was gone.  And that figure contains only men enlisted in service; untold thousands of civilians, male and female, slave and freedmen, died as collateral damage in this war, were killed by accidents or succumbed to diseases and deprivations induced by the conflict.  They mattered too.  With every drop of American blood in the Civil War, our bright future as a unified, strong, and free people was purchased.

On this Memorial Day, as you honor our most recent service personnel, especially our young Americans serving in the MIddle East, please also take a moment to remember and honor the heroes and heroines of the American Civil War.

The Primary Documents Of The Future

I'm a big believer in primary documents.  I've spent may happy hours in the Florida State Archives reading letters and journals that transported me back to the Civil War, made me feel like I knew the writers personally, despite the fact that the authors had been dead for over a century.  I've often bemoaned the fact that the current generation has lost the art of crafting letters, and it is rare to hear of anyone scribbling the minutiae of life in a leather-bound journal.

But over the last two days I've been frequently checking Facebook, mainly to chuckle over the happy photos of graduation.  It occurred to me this morning that we still have plenty of primary sources being generated.  If anyone wanted to write a history of the Wofford Class of 2009, that author would have a wealth of material---the Bohemian, the Old Gold and Black, and the Wofford Newsroom.  The Wofford blogs could be consulted as well.  But Facebook might be the best source, the clearest window into what it meant to be a student at Wofford in the early 21st century.  By perusing status reports, quizzes taken, and especially the myriad photo albums, a social historian would be able to make some educated guesses about what was important to young people (parties, good times with friends) and what wasn't (writing that Ancient World paper).

I've often said that I feel sorry for historians of the 21st century because they will have an overload of media to sort through, but will lack the beauty and eloquence of documents crafted in, for example, the 19th century.  But perhaps these little blurbs and snapshots will suffice; perhaps they will also charm and delight the historians of the future.  

Now I have a question for the librarians---how do I properly cite a Facebook status?

No Lonelier Day

To my mind, there is no lonelier day than the Monday after graduation.  There's a kind of emptiness and sadness that no amount of 'hooray, it's summer!' thoughts can fill.  Of course, in a few days I'll be excited about the long break and eagerly diving into new research and reading, and by mid-summer I'll be looking forward to meeting the Class of 2013, but the first 24-48 hours after graduation is always a very depressing time for me.  You'd think that after almost two decades years here I would be used to it, but I don't guess I ever will be.

Rain or Shine

Baccalaureate was held in the arena this afternoon, which I know was disappointing to the students and parents.  There's something so majestic about having Old Main as a backdrop for the service, not to mention that a 'gym' baccalaureate smacks a bit of high school.  But the weather doesn't always cooperate with Wofford (maybe we should graduate more future meteorologists to help us out!) so one has to look at the bright side, and find the advantages of the alternate location.  At least no one got wet, or had to be nervous about approaching thunder.  Perhaps it was easier for parents seated in the stands to pick out their youngsters in the rows of graduates down below.  Plus, everyone could hear the speakers, along with the vocal rendition of Ave Maria, performed so beautifully by Samantha Hall. And as a middle-aged faculty member, I have to confess that the padded seats are much more comfortable than folding chairs!

To me, the best part of an indoor graduation is the procession, which takes the faculty up the center aisle between the graduates.  It reminds me of the processions at FSU, where undergraduates would turn and watch as the professors and their doctoral candidates filed in.  But there is a very pivotal difference between these two moments, which speaks to the importance of Wofford and other small, liberal arts schools.  At FSU, an undergraduate might recognize the occasional professor, but the professor would have no reaction to the undergraduate.  No professor smiled or nodded or gave that little 'hey, I'm proud of you' wave to a person receiving a BA or BS.  It wasn't a purposeful shunning but a symptom of life in a place where students are little more than numbers---it would require a professor with a fantastic memory (which most of us don't have, trust me on this!) to recognize the FSU student who gave funny answers in Western Civilization, or who fell into the creek during a biology lab field trip, or always wore a Braves baseball cap to class.

At Wofford, as we came down the aisle this afternoon, I could see the smiles and the nods, and even catch a few playful 'hey, are you sure you're graduating?  No, come on, not already!' jokes exchanged between faculty and their favorite students.  It only takes a few minutes for us to process to our seats, but those interactions between the faculty and students are the moments that the graduates will remember long after they've forgotten other details about this day.  This is a treat they would never have at a big university, where they would barely know any of their classmates, much less their professors, staff, and administrators.

And on the chance that any of the Class of 2009 are reading this (and I know you're not, because you're all at the senior party right now!) let me say that we know you're graduating at a tough time, but we think you're pretty tough, and smart, and ready to take on the world. We're proud of you because we know you.  I catch myself getting sappy every time I spot one of my former students from the 2005 Sherlock Holmes Humanities, or 2008 Community of Scholars, or my 2008 Shop Till You Drop Interim.  Don't get me started on the History Seniors, or I might just go to pieces all over this blog.  And I promise you, it's not just me; I watch my colleagues in the department react to our majors and to students they've shepherded through capstone projects and honors theses, and they get a bit misty-eyed too.  Even those very logical scientists can turn sentimental when saying goodbye to students who have been partners in research and fieldwork!

It doesn't matter where we hold our commencement exercises, really, because the interactions, the pride, and the hope for our graduates' future will always be the same, rain or shine.

 

Graduation Dreams

I dreamed of graduations last night, that I was driving across a landscape that was both familiar and yet utterly foreign, and to every side were graduations ceremonies.  Young people in caps and gowns of various shades were assembling on lawns, milling in parking lots, playing on swing-sets and racing across fields.  Some were tossing their mortarboards high in the air; others had their robes open against the heat, revealing bright sundresses or madras shorts beneath the official regalia.  I recall especially one group of young women, dancing around a hill in front of a chapel, all in white, looking like doves about to soar.

In the dream---in that odd way that dreams have of bubbling up images that disconnect from reality---I understood that these young people were all Wofford graduates, despite the fact that the scene was not the one in front of Old Main.  And I also knew that they would soon go one way, while I would be forced to continue to drive down my endless road.  

Graduation is the most emotional time of the year.  There is nervousness in September, cheer at Christmas, adventure at interim, accomplishment in March and April, but mid-May is (for me at least) a time of tears, when I get choked up at random moments, when I can look at our history majors and see not the exam that one has to take, or the less than perfect paper another wrote, but the amazing potential that all of these young people possess.

I realize that 2009 maybe not be the premium year to graduate.  When I talk to many of the seniors I sense their worry about their immediate future, especially those who are searching for jobs rather than going on to post-graduate education.  I understand how they feel---1985 wasn't exactly the best year to wear a cap and gown either!  I remember being openly mocked for having taken a degree in history instead of joining the FSU SOB's (School of Business).  But things worked out OK in the end, and I hope that our graduates will understand that it will work out for them as well.  They have an extraordinary education, one that has shaped them as well-rounded, naturally curious and insightful human beings.  If the job they hoped to find is not available, I suggest that they are clever enough to find an even better job, or create their own careers in new and novel fields.  I believe in the Wofford Class of 2009 far more than I believed in the Madison County High School Class of 1981, or the FSU Class of 1985.

I also hope that, on graduation day, our students will not allow the economic doldrums to sully their joy.  A college graduation is a once in a lifetime moment.  It should be celebrated with glee and (as President Dunlap says about the Terrio) a sense of 'reckless abandon.'  Just be sure to get the gown pressed and be in line on time.  Graduation day is a reality shaped from many long ago dreams, and like the oddly white-robed people in my dream, I want to see my Wofford seniors fly.

Where Does Time Go?

Is it just me, or has someone stolen some of the hours from the day?  It seems like no matter how hard I work, how many lists I make, or how organized I am, I still run out of time to get things done.  Especially now, with the end of the academic year looming, it appears that time has either been snatched away or compressed to the point that it is no longer usable!

I realize I'm not the only person who feels this way.  When I walk through the Acorn Cafe, I overhear students complaining.  "Man, I have so much to DO!  How am I ever going to get it done THIS WEEK?"

These students might be shocked if they knew how often we murmur exactly the same thing, behind our office doors.  The last week of classes is stressful for us as well.  There are just too many final reports and papers to grade, exams to write, and labs to conduct, not to mention ceremonies and meetings to attend.

The strangest thing of all---the last time I looked around, these seniors were freshmen!  What happened?  How did they grow up so quickly?  Especially the members of my Sherlock Holmes Humanities class from Fall 2005---how can they possibly be ready to graduate, not to mention racking up so many awards and places in Phi Beta Kappa?  My 2005 HUM people can not be ready to leave Wofford for careers and graduate school.  Not that much time has gone by, has it?  Please tell me I'm wrong!

I'm so proud of all of my students from that remarkable group of advisees.  I just can't believe I have to say goodbye to them so soon.  (One consolation, though, I do get to keep Mr. Hufford, who has just returned from his travels around the world!)