Showing posts with label Graduate School. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Graduate School. Show all posts

Friday, November 9, 2012

Works well with Others



You have never heard a Princeton professor lecture, until you have seen him on the big screen.

Micheal BerubĂ© organized this stimulating summit on the future on graduate education in the humanities, where Anthony Grafton, known to all participants as “Tony”, the comma splice slayer, held the opening keynote address—by Skype no less, ostensibly because he was under the weather, but from where I sat in the audience, the the big screen at the front of the auditorium with its freakish lighting made Grafton look the spitting image of the Great OZ.

Grafton spoke eloquently about the troubles encircling the humanities, troubles we are all know well and good, but which he laid out so movingly.  In the last third of his lecture, he got down to some possible solutions to the fact that graduate students  in the humanities often learn skills that do not translate well to the marketplace.  Among other woes, they do not learn to work collaboratively, not does the institution have the administrative wherewithal to evaluate and reward collaborative research projects and publications. 

Many times have I heard colleagues say they prefer to work collaboratively.  In my department, these people are invariably linguists and women of all fields.  It is all too often the male literary critics, like myself, who prefer to work alone.  We write our own books, edit own articles; we do not want to be disturbed by other people interfering with our narcissistic writing projects. [Writing is the only intoxicant for which I receive institutional encouragement and reward]

However, there are collaborations in language departments that have long received institutional encouragement.  Foreign language teaching programs are almost always collaborative.  A whole bunch of instructors work together using the same syllabus, the same textbook.  They compare notes, develop joint exercises, compose and grade exams as a group.  Perhaps the only time I worked in a team during my graduate studies was while teaching German.  We all learned to play good cop to the professor’s bad cop.  We divided up our roles, we each had a different function in the language instruction sequence.  It was a blast and we were grateful that as young teachers we were not left to our own clueless devices, but instead we could work out lesson plans while huddled together.  Irony aside, TAing in German language instruction was a huge collaborative success and a great model for other forms of research

Linguists have been collaborating at every level of the academic heirarchy.  They work together not just as TAs, but as scholars and professors.  No one holds it against linguists coming up for tenure that they co-wrote an essay, because we all understand, “That’s how linguists work.”   Try saying that about a collaborative essay on Goethe’s Faust.  You don’t often get the same understanding—and then who are the Goethe scholars who work together, often across disciplines: quite frequently women who know how to share, not isolated guys trying to show off how clever they are.  Wouldn’t it be great if we could all get together as a group and read Faust?  Stay tuned we have just such an essay in the next Goethe Yearbook.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Time's a Revelation

In contrast to Allison Kraus's big time pop sensibilities, I always thought that Gillian Welch was the grad student, who tried not only to capture the tone of small town country music recording, but who wanted to write lyrics from within the consciousness of rural folk who had not yet caught up with modernity in the 1960s. So when I drive to the country to bring my daughter to a party in a new house with old furniture to meet a mother who speaks slowly to the sudden crowd of parents in her living room, I know that Gillian Welch is right to sing her cautious songs about that new fangled music. There are folks in long country roads who still hold onto their parents' way of talking. They may not sing that way much, except in church, but Gillian Welch moves us to listen like the young girl that the country grandmother of the country mother once was.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=db_7Lr5Rb3Y


Friday, April 3, 2009

Professorial Voice

Went to a lecture given by an old professor of mine, a famous fellow, who has written more books than years I will probably stay above ground. Eighty books to Sander Gilman’s name:

Sitting back to take in his talk, I was immediately struck with how unchanged he looked, and then most remarkably the sound of his voice. If you don’t see someone for a long time, the voice is the feature you most thoroughly forget.

The sound of a human speaking does not linger like an image or a piece of advice once given. If he is real person, we don’t hear the voice over and over again as if he were Robert Plant. Yet when the voice returns, once you hear your old teacher again, the satisfaction and pleasure of recognition is quite remarkable.

I had heard him speak many times, in class and down the hall, yet this intimate apprehension had been replaced after leaving graduate school by reading and professional commentary. “So what do you think of Sander’s latest book?”

But today what really mattered to me sipping coffee in the audience was the childish happiness of hearing an authority who had trained me speaking familiar truths again, and yet not without surprising turns of thought that reminded me of his continued mastery.