JUNE 15, 2021 – In one of my dreamworlds, I’m an “as-long-as-I-want-to-be-professor-at-large” at some small, leafy, liberal arts college in a quiet New England town. I design my courses, decide my class times, and select my students.
I’m assigned a small office on the third floor of a creaky, original academic building—a room lined with books, a plush, green sofa, three chairs, an old Persian rug, a small wooden desk, a framed copy of the Magna Carta on one wall, a vintage ski poster on another, and through a large, multi-paned window behind the desk, a view of the bucolic countryside.
I wear the upper uniform of yesteryear—a tweed jacket with elbow patches. On frosty days, I sometimes smoke—with the window cracked open—cherry-flavored tobacco in my grandfather’s pipe.
My opening salvo is a multi-disciplinary endeavor called, “Perspective.” It has the enthusiastic support of the dean of faculty and joinder of happy volunteers from various academic departments. (Remember, this is all part of a dream.)
At the outset is a brief study of the history of perspective in art—its absence in Egyptian art; its “discovery” by Greeks of the Hellenistic period; its full introduction to painting by Brunelleschi; its full command by Masaccio. A volunteer from the art faculty leads a class session in drawing perspective in various simple contexts.
From illusion of perspective in art, I move to Einstein’s theory of relativity (special and general). A physics prof then leads the class through a brief history of the universe and survey of quantum mechanics. At the end of this segment, a late-night session is held at the center of the soccer/lacrosse field for star-gazing through a high-powered telescope (borrowed from said physics prof).
Next on the syllabus is a mix of science, religion, and philosophy, again with borrowed aid from those departments. This segment revolves around definitions—of “God” and “god”; of “thought” and “nonsense.” I set-up role playing by students—“You be the Marcus Aurelius; you be Galileo; You be Kant; You be Constantine; You be Darwin; You be Dawkins; You be [Moses]; [Jesus]; [Mohammed]; [Confucius]; [Buddha].” I detonate and exacerbate rigorous debate among the students.
From that fray we shift to the study of history and how and where to find perspective on one event, era, or epoch by studying another. I push the students to focus, as it were, on the lens through which they view the past but also on how the past shapes that lens.
Next the class learns about the Aeolian mode and the Dorian mode and how the piano became well-tempered. Thenceforth, they hear music from a whole new . . . perspective.
Finally, the course settles on perspective in mathematics; definitions, primarily, but a closer, multi-dimensional examination of statistics.
The final exam is a simple question, divulged on the first day of class: “How did this course affect your perspective?” The response must be written (legibly) in pencil in an old-fashioned “bluebook”—the exclusive tools for note-taking during the semester.
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© 2021 by Eric Nilsson
2 Comments
Back in September, on the 6th day of school the experienced and worldly substitute teacher taught the new kindergarten class and mentally tallied up the years his charges faced before entering the grown-up world. Seventeen years, not including grad school, was the answer. He wondered how many would make it to the finish line? What would be their chosen field? What kind of adults would they become? In June on the next-to-last day of school the substitute teacher, older and wiser now, taught kindergarten for the last time that year and no longer wondered about the kids, he wondered how he could possibly teach one more year.
Chris, thanks for this thoughtful and insightful comment. Great . . . perspective.
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