No One or Everyone Gets a Trophy

A recent story on BBC Africa related the interesting fact that out of 25,000 applicants for entrance to the University of Liberia, not one passed.  Though this is obviously an aberration, it is not unusual for students at all levels in West Africa to be graded very harshly.  This makes the dedication that many of their students possess all the more remarkable.  The system is often perceived as unfair and opaque, but people still work very hard to try to succeed in it.

This is of course a great contrast to the U.S., where many of us feel or even believe that everyone should finish first at everything.  Yet in spite of incredible educational advantages and opportunities, most students seem to view school not as a priceless opportunity, but as a necessary evil if not a conspiracy by adults to rob youth of their freedom.

These two sets of generalizations are exaggerations, but they illustrate major differences--and strengths--between the two educational systems.  West Africa would benefit from a more humane approach to education, and the U.S. would benefit from higher standards and expectations.

Kudos for "The Butler"

Sensitive to criticism that a guy should take part of a day off once in awhile, I went with my leisure-loving life partner to see "The Butler" today--and was quite impressed.

The film has been criticized for being a bit too formulaic or artificial or tidy, a sort of black counterpart to "Forrest Gump" that goes out of its way to cover every iconic moment of modern American history.

I nevertheless liked the film for two big and interrelated reasons:

1) It's very rare to see a big movie that's not about white males.  All of the major characters in this film are black.  So is the director.

2) "The Butler" takes black life seriously.  It shows blatant and subtle aspects of racism that most white people don't much think about, and it also shows why black people have responded to that racism in such diverse ways.

Race continues to be the "elephant in the American living room."  Most of us like to act as if it doesn't matter.  "The Butler" reminds us of why race and racism have long resided at the heart of American life.

Course Design for Middle-Aged Professors

As I have mentioned before, college teaching is an unusual profession in that most of us have received very little training in how to teach.  Graduate school focuses largely on doing original research (writing a dissertation that will hopefully become a book) and attaining a certain level of knowledge in several historical fields.  Of course that knowledge can be passed on once one starts to teach.  But very few of us are trained in the art of teaching itself, how that knowledge is to be conveyed.  Who has not suffered through a lecture from a brilliant professor who knew a given subject backwards and forwards but who did not have a clue--or any evident interest in--of how to convey that knowledge.  Or perhaps you are fascinated by the lectures or readings and then surprised to learn that the final exam bears little relation to what you studied.

Given the above, it has been exciting and humbling to learn more about course design, how to think about teaching from a student's point of view.  The key principal here is alignment.  Start by deciding what skills you want your students to learn, then align the rest of the course behind those skills so that every aspect of the course contributes to acquiring those skills.  Those skills may need to be learned gradually.  If, for example, your ultimate goal is for students to write a sophisticated essay that is supported by diverse evidence and is sensitive to counter-arguments, then break that daunting task into smaller components.  Make sure that everyone knows how to write a clear thesis statement.  Then work on supporting that thesis with evidence.  Then move on to incorporating or addressing counter arguments.

Most professors have very sophisticated research plans.  Few of us approach teaching with the same thoughtfulness.

Why Writing, Like the Rest of Life, Is So Difficult

I have a lot less energy as a researcher and writer than I once had, and my memory isn't as keen as it used to be.  But I have learned how to work much more efficiently than when I felt compelled to write down every shred of evidence I came across on a given topic.

Part of what I have learned is that it is very difficult to tell what a book is about until one has started to write it.  Dr. Robert Wiebe had told me this back in 1982 when I was a graduate student at Northwestern: you don't really know if you have a sound argument until you write it down and try to support it. The evidence often turns out to be different from what one expected, and the process of reading one's notes and trying to make sense of them often opens up new and very unexpected insights.

I was recently reminded of this discomfiting fact while working on a chapter of what I hope will be a book on the history of how Americans  have viewed Africa.  The chapter is on the decade after World War II, and most of the Hollywood movies and articles in popular magazines depicted white (usually male) quests in wild Africa.  But a few white writers approached Africa with much more empathy and respect for its humans, and all of these writers were women.  Louise Stinetorf, for example, wrote quite a popular novel, The White Witch Doctor, which became a Hollywood movie that largely obscured her African-centric message.  But in going over my very rough first draft, I noticed this gendered pattern in how Africa was interpreted and found that she had written other books (another adult novel and some children's stories) about Africa that had the same message.  So Stinetorf--and several other women like her--are going to take up many more pages in my manuscript than I had anticipated, and they will change the trajectory of its argument.

Writing is difficult, like the rest of our lives.  We would like to be always sure of where we are going and how we are getting there.  But our maps are smudged and faulty; we must continually stop and reconsider our route and our purpose.  But if we can live with these uncertainties we are rewarded with delicious surprises.

Reflections on 20 Years of Marital Bliss

OK, the title is meant to be a bit ironic.  Wendy and I have weathered many battles and a few crises over the past two decades.  But our marriage has taught me a lot about the importance of respect when dealing with others.

Wendy and I are very different from each other.  I am more drawn to abstract causes, she is more concrete.  This sounds innocuous enough.  But it poses some daunting challenges for how we spend our time and money--a couple of issues that tear many marriages apart.

What keeps us together, I think, is that we respect both each other and each others' priorities--even as we pursue somewhat different ones in our individual lives.  And I think the fact that someone we respect so deeply (Wendy is the most amazing person I've ever met) disagrees with us on some important issues reminds us that our individual points of view are very likely to be flawed and incomplete.

Of course this insight can be exported from our marriage to the many other relationships that we are part of.  Each of us encounters and works with people with diverse beliefs and priorities, points of view that can be viewed as threats to our own--or as opportunities to become both kinder and wiser.