Tracy Revels

Rushing In

Yesterday was the second Friday of school.  My freshmen wandered in, looking bleary-eyed and exhausted, complaining about long labs and difficult quizzes.  Almost everyone in the room looked like a nap and a good meal would be beneficial.  Out of curiosity, I asked this weary bunch how many of them were planning to participate in fraternity/sorority rush.  Well over half raised their hands.

You can insert my heavy sigh here.

Now, before you think this is going to be a diatribe about the Greek system, let me assure you that I do not hate Greeks.  I have known young people who really benefited from the opportunities the system offers.  I'm proud of the leadership it has generated and the good work that "brothers and sisters" do for charities. I understand that it is part of the college ideal, glamorized by movies and TV shows.  The smaller the school, the larger the role the Greek system plays in social life.  I don't think many Wofford professor actually despise the system itself.  None of us expect young people to pass through college like academic monks, never attending parties and spending every night alone with the books.  

But let me be frank---I have my concerns.  In my experience, most Wofford freshmen are not ready to make that important decision in their first month of classes.  They're still going through a period of adjustment, getting used to being away from home, managing their own money and time, and dealing with classes that are far more challenging than they are accustomed to.  It's not that they are 'babies' or especially 'immature.'  If any of us were suddenly thrust into a new world, with dozens of new expectations, surrounded by strangers, we would be equally unbalanced, at least for a few months.  It seems ridiculous to expect young people to be able to suddenly excel in academics, time management, and social skills, all at once.

And let's not kid ourselves, the Greek world can as cruel as it is kind.  I have known students who left Wofford because they could not handle the social 'disgrace' of not being offered a bid, or only being accepted by a frat they didn't want to join. I seem to lose at least one student per fall who flunks out because his/her time is taken up by Greek commitments.  It is also common to lose a student because Greeks drink (yes, I know that's shocking!) and if a young person is already struggling with alcoholism, wild parties are only going to make things worse. 

I'd give anything if freshmen would just rattle this thought around in their brains for a few hours---Over the last 18 years, you've had very little freedom.  Mom and Dad have made decisions for you, controlled you.  You were told when to eat, when to go to bed, how to spend your money, what activities to participate in. Parents, teachers, coaches, spiritual leaders organized your life.  Some of you were even told who you could or could not be friends with!  So now you're at college, and have all this freedom to make decisions for yourself about classes, friends, activities, even when you'll go to sleep.  But within a month you're going to sign up for a group in which kids only a year or two older than you will start regulating who you can talk to, what you have to learn, when you'll sleep, where you'll spend the weekend, etc.  Oh, and you will pay them big bucks for the privilege! Does that really make sense?

When I transfered to FSU, I had  a flirtation with the idea of joining a sorority.  I asked my mother about it, thinking she'd probably yell NO.  Instead, very calmly, she said "If that's what you want to do, that's OK, but let's get one thing straight from the start---you will pay for every penny of it yourself. I guess you'll have to get a summer job."  Where I lived, a summer job meant working in the fields Needless to say, I quickly forgot about being a Greek.  I wasn't that committed.

I wish more Wofford parents were like my mom.  I think if students were forced to take personal responsibility for the expense of Greek life, it would improve the system.  The kids who wanted to be Greek would really be dedicated, hard-working and balanced.  And the kids who are just looking for an easy entry into parties and social life would rethink their strategies.  I also believe that if rush could be pushed back to spring semester, while there would be problems to be worked out in the initial years of the change the end result would be a better system.  Freshmen would have more time to adapt to college life, and they'd also have a sharper idea as to which fraternity/sorority they wanted to join, if any.  

And maybe there wouldn't be so many bleary eyes at 10:30 in the morning.

Being Biblical

As a child, I remember someone on TV saying "If you're not careful, you might just learn something!"  That's often the way it is at Wofford activities.  If you're not really vigilant, working hard to keep your mind closed, you might possibly come away with a new idea, or something to ponder.

Last night is a good example.  Wofford hosted the second in a series of discussions on stem cell research.  On Monday we had the scientific point of view, which included some basic definitions of what stem cells are, how they function, and why research into stem cells holds many possibilities for medical advances.  Last night, the government and religion folks got a turn to examine the research from the perspective of its moral and ethical implications.  I'm proud to report that there was a standing room only crowd at BOTH presentations.

I wasn't watchful enough, obviously, because I did learn a few things.  I admit to being pretty much a blank slate about the science; I had no idea what stem cells were, other than something people got upset about.  In fact, I thought stem cells had something to do with the brain stem, or that stem cells were only found in the brain.  Why I thought that, I'm not sure, except that I was a willing victim of the kind of ignorance of the facts that all of the professors decried.  The public's sad lack of knowledge about this issue is something that professors of all disciplines agreed on.

But the thing that will stick with me the most about last night's discussion was a point that Professor McCane made about how, when people debate controversies like stem cell research, they frame their arguments---and especially their emotional appeals---in Biblical narratives.  People opposed to research take their cue from the book of Revelation, and warn that science is taking us down a dark path to an apocalypse.  Advocates of science take inspiration from Exodus, claiming that the way to the Promised Land is just ahead of us, and that new innovations will never lead us astray, but right into paradise.  We can't help but be influenced by these narratives because the Bible (whether you believe in it, or simply consider it a nice work of literature) has wielded tremendous influence on Western culture.  We know these arguments and instinctively respond to them without even recognizing where they come from.  And as Professor McCane reminded the audience, we will see these arguments again and again with future controversies.  He asked the students to consider the strident voices of both sides of the health care reform debate, and listen for the overtones of Exodus and Revelation in their words.

Now I can't help but wonder where I've echoed those Biblical passages in my own life!  I'm giving a quiz today, and I'm pretty sure that I've laid both the Old and New Testaments on their hearts, in the form of promising wonderful things (and easy A if you STUDY!) and warning of dire consequences (smiting in the form of an F if you don't!).

I hope Wofford students realize what wonderful opportunities they have here, both to learn new things and be challenged to think about old things in new ways. 

I Was Here When You Were Born

Yesterday, I realized that our freshmen were born in 1991.  Along with the thought of "oh, they've never known life without cell phones and text messaging" came the realization that this year's freshmen were born in the year that I came to Wofford.  I joke about things that make me feel old---things like learning that girls I went to high school with are now grandmothers---but this revelation really did make me feel my age.

Remarkably, I can still remember my first year at Wofford.  And let me tell you, things have changed!  The day of opening session, the entire Wofford faculty assembled in what is now our faculty dining room, with plenty of open space to spare.  Our dining area was in the chamber where our food is now served, and most of the faculty could squeeze in there at lunchtime.  Smoking was not prohibited inside the buildings.  Relatively few people had computers, and instead of the internet we had something called the 'vax.'  I remember looking at a message, white letters typed out on a black screen, and thinking 'all this computer stuff will never catch on.'

My first year at Wofford, I joined a five person department.  I was the newbie, very much the junior member.  Dr. Racine was the closest to me in age.  The day I moved into my office, my grandmother said to Dr. Racine, "I'm sure all of you will look out for Tracy because you are all old enough to be her grandfather."  Ouch.  I really doubted I would ever get tenure!

Another thing I remember very intensely is how few women were on the faculty.  I had the impression that while most of the male faculty members were gentlemanly and respectful, some of them were a bit clueless and confused as to what to make of female colleagues.  At lunch, a Wofford faculty member (long since retired, and not a member of the history department!)  laughed when I said I would be teaching women's history and then gasped "You're serious?  How can there even BE such a thing as women's history?"  I can't imagine any of my current female colleagues having that kind of experience.

My first year was stressful.  I was scared a lot of the time, worried about making a good impression and keeping my job.  Then as now, economic times were tough and many of my graduate school friends could not find jobs, or were making do with adjunct positions.  I felt blessed to be at Wofford.  That, at least, has not changed in 18 years.

It's hard for me to look at my freshmen and think that when I arrived at Wofford, they had just arrived in the world!  I can still recall the suit I wore to the first faculty meeting (and how I debated for hours over WHAT to wear!) and I'm pretty sure I still have the shoes I gave my first lecture in.  I look at pictures and see that I have changed (gotten older, sporting different glasses, actually wearing makeup these days) but I haven't altered my appearance all that much (no tattoos, same basic hairstyle, about the same weight).  What has changed is the way I feel when I come to class.  I'm not scared anymore, not worried that someone will decide I'm a fraud and don't need to be here.  And now I'm the senior member of the department.  Everyone who serves with me is academically younger (in terms of how long they've been at Wofford) than I am.  I've become the bearer of the department's memory.

OK, maybe I am nervous about that, about being the old guard at mid-life.  I try to remind myself to look at the freshmen, these youngsters just starting out, a little bit nervous but a whole lot excited about the future.  That's what I have to channel in order to keep going.

But in about 20 years, when a kid shows up and says "Hey, you taught my mom in Humanities 101 in 2009!" then it may be time to quit, no matter how old or young I feel.

Wofford's Way of Celebrating Labor Day

Most Americans enjoy Labor Day as the last holiday of summer.  Usually there's time for a final trip to the beach or the park, maybe afarewell barbecue or cookout.  People say goodbye to flip-flops and Bermuda shorts, hello to jackets and long-sleeved shirts.

At Wofford, we say hello to a new school year.  Our classes always begin on Labor Day, a fact that astonishes (and appalls) many of my friends at other institutions.  What can I say---as long as I've been here, I've heard the phrase "There's a right way, a wrong way, and a Wofford way."  This is just a great example of a Wofford way of doing things.

Maybe it's a tradition that binds us as a community.  If nothing else we can complain among ourselves about having to work when others get to play!

Where Did The Summer Go?

I know I can't be the only person connected to Wofford College who is asking that question right now!  Despite the fact that this was the longest summer I could remember, it still went by too fast.  I was busy---very busy---with research and writing, and I still managed to have some fun. One great thing about studying tourism is that you never have to feel guilty about going to a "tourist trap"! Some might say I ventured to the biggest one of all when I went to Disney World, but I had a great time, especially because my companion was another Wofford professor who is very special to me.  I guess I'm still a kid at heart in many ways, and its great to have a "partner in crime."

Oh well, now it's time to write a syllabus and start thinking about school.  My entire life has revolved around the rhythm of education; New Year's comes in September, not in January.  This fall semester marks the beginning of my 19th year at Wofford College and my 21st year overall of college teaching.  One of these days I might start to figure out what I'm doing, but I worry that if that should ever happen, it will take all the fun out of it!

Confederate Koi

I'm on the road today.  In fact, I'm composing this on my laptop, inside a Wendy's.  Hooray for free wi-fi!

I suspect that 'sophisticated' travelers consider all Southern towns alike; you've seen one, you've seen them all.  Pull into a Thomasville or a Cairo or a Quitman and you see the same backdrop, as if each little burg came from one Hollywood shop: huge live oaks, a quaint town square, an imposing Victorian courthouse, and a host of little shops run by slightly overweight women of a certain age with harsh highlights. A Southern main street inevitably houses a host of antique shops, proving (sadly, to this native daughter) that all our towns have left to sell is their past, and they display washboards and china cabinets like medieval churches once offered saints' bones.  Central to the county seat, of course, is the monument to the 'gallant Confederate dead.'

Many books have been written about how Southerners can't let go of the war.  I suppose I have to raise my hand and confess my guilt, as my own interest in the Civil War sprang from conversations with people who didn't let the past die, not because they wanted to sell battle-flags and trinkets or impose a cruel racial code, but because they had such vivid memories of people who actually remembered the war.  Last night, I chatted with a distant family member who grew up in the house of my great-great grandfather, a man who was born seven years before the Civil War began.  In her late 80s, my relative's mind is "sharp as a tack," her stories of my great-great grandpa are clear. To be, in a sense, only one voice removed from the living memory of our nation's pivotal moment is, in a word, humbling.

So naturally, whenever I'm in a small Southern town, if I have time I go look at that Confederate soldier.  I'm always curious whether he will be atop a high pillar or a squatty one.  Will he carry his rifle on his shoulder (as if on the march) or will he rest it against the ground (as if weary from marching).  Will be be clean shaven or sport a mustache?  Will he look more like Colonel Sanders or a nineteenth century Brad Pitt?

In Bainbridge, where I am at the moment, they have a soldier with a long coat, atop a short pillar.  He was placed there by the Daughters of the Confederacy in 1905.  But what makes him unique, at least in my experience, is what lies below him.  He is surrounded by a little moat, and in that circular stream swim a number of koi, including the biggest one I have ever seen!  I wonder, what motivated the town leaders to put in these creatures?  Are they simply ornamental?  Or do they somehow suggest what the Johnny Reb above them really wanted most of all, for the horrible war to end, so that he could get back to his clear Georgia streams and some fine fishin'?

Summer Work

I'm annoyed with myself for not updating this blog in some time, but I have the same excuse every Wofford professor has---I've been so very busy.

Non-academic types always assume that being a 'teacher' means you get June-July-August as a vacation. In reality, I know of nobody at Wofford who spends three months just lying by the pool. (Students maybe, faculty and staff, no!)  Wofford never really closes, so there are plenty of people on campus.  And of course many professors offer summer classes.  Wofford has made a very dedicated effort to improve the variety of its summer courses, and more folks are looking at summer school as an opportunity to experiment with new material and techniques.  Even professors who aren't teaching are developing new syllabi and restructuring existing courses.  And let's not forget the Community of Scholars and the many camps, leadership seminars, and workshops that go on during the summer months.  Wofford might look sleepy, but nobody is really dozing off.

I've been extremely busy over the last month.  Along with my introduction of George Washington for the Chautauqua series, I traveled to Tallahassee to give a talk for the Florida Humanities Council, and I will probably be giving another lecture in Bainbridge before the summer is over.  I've also been steadily travelingto libraries and archives in Florida, working on the 'tourism project.'  My goal is a narrative history of how tourism has shaped the culture and national image of Florida.  Wofford graciously gave me a research grant for this summer, and I'm really enjoying the opportunity to go back to the subject that was at the heart of my dissertation.

For professors, even travel isn't always a vacation---going abroad involves attending meetings and scoping out locations for potential interims.  It can also--if you're a talented photographer like some biologists of my acquaintance---mean that you're taking pictures and video that you can use in class.  I'm not sure that any of my Wofford colleagues can ever just kick back and be 'tourists' like the people I'm researching!

I hope everyone is enjoying the summer and managing to have some restful, stress-free days.  But please don't think that Wofford is closed or that we're all on vacation!  Living the academic life means that you never stop learning, or thinking, or in a sense working.  Even if we aren't actively teaching, it doesn't mean we're on 'break.' 

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?