The Best Professor

Finals wrapped up, and for some reason this year I had very little energy to complete everything I had to do. Instead of powering through, I seemed to drag myself through the week limply. Maybe it was the plethora of boring classes this semester, the numerous horrible teachers or the fact that I had just been accepted to graduate school and therefore felt the pressure to exert all my energy and wellbeing for the slim chance of a slight grade increase to be unnecessary.

Either way, it’s done. I’m home. And I couldn’t be happier.

The highlight of my week though was dinner at my thesis advisor, Jesse’s, house. The three other students in my research group and I all headed over there Wednesday night; thank you card and gift certificate in hand. We drank some wine, met his wife, and enjoyed a delicious vegetarian curry dinner that he made himself (I had no idea he was such a cook!). He showed us his pets; two Chilean mice-squirrel-like creatures (who knew this guy was into small fluffy rodents?); as well as his home brewed beer collection (he apparently is an avid mead fan). He talked about his days playing ultimate Frisbee, our research, the current budget cuts and the education system in general. He then introduced us to a new board game, Ticket to Ride, which was incredibly fun. I’m disappointed to say that I came in second. My competitive nature is still bothered- I only lost by one point!

We left late, and as a result I had very little study time left before my test the next morning. However the evening was very enjoyable. Call me a nerd, but it probably ranks up there as one of my top favorite nights that I’ve had over at WSU. I got to really enjoy time with my research group and with Jesse. I got to see him outside of a school environment, and I really enjoyed his company, discussions and insight (ok, and his delicious cooking- I forgot to mention he made the most amazing carrot cake for dessert!)

For those of you whom I’ve talked to regarding my thesis I’m working on, you know how passionate I have become about my topic. I love Reformation era history- learning about Calvin, Luther and other religious leaders and why they championed for theological reform in the church. And I love the issue of religious toleration- how it is achieved and maintained in spite of persisting discrimination. However what many may not realize is the immense appreciation I have gained for Jesse himself, the professor that introduced me to this topic. And after having dinner with him last week, I want to reflect on him and how he truly has changed me; as a student, prospective teacher and person.

I met Jesse three years ago, and was in his class my first semester in college. It was an Honors history class; Religious Tolerance and Persecution in Western Europe: 1400-1750. Immediately, I felt overmatched. The class conversations were way above my head and when he stated that our entire grade would be solely based on a semester long research paper and class discussions on required readings, I panicked. Never before had I felt so unprepared for a class; never before had I felt “not smart enough”.

Within the first few classes, I decided it was too much to handle. I wasn’t even a huge history fan to begin with, nor was I ready for such an intense class in which I knew nothing about. I went to his office to explain to him that I had to drop the class; not that I didn’t find the topic interesting nor him interesting, but I explained that the reason rest in my feeling inadequate.

Looking back, I’m disappointed that in that moment I gave up in myself. For someone who has always been confident and so sure of herself and her capabilities, I’m embarrassed that I succumbed to the fear of failure. Luckily, Jesse, a professor I had known for but a week, at that moment, had more faith in me than I had in myself. He told me he respected my decision, but to take the time to really think about it before I officially withdrew from the class. He assured me that I would have no trouble succeeding in the class, as long as I was willing to put forth the effort. He told me that by no means was I academically deficient compared to the 14 other students in the class; while they may have had prior knowledge on the subject, it did not put them at an advantage in the class. He then told me that he would always be there to help; and that at times if I felt I was struggling, I could always come talk to him about it.

I remember leaving his office with a complete new sense of confidence. If this professor, who didn’t even know me, trusted I could handle this course, why was I doubting myself? And furthermore, I immediately got a sense of genuineness in this professor. He seemed not only impassioned in this subject, but committed to his students. Wasn’t this the type of professor one dreams of? I sensed something special about him. I stayed in the class. It challenged me; I knew little to nothing about religious history, nor how to write a college-level research paper. I was in his office nearly every week, and, as promised, he was always willing to help me, whether it was grappling with my understanding of the weeks reading, helping me analyze my primary sources or tinkering with my wording when it actually came to writing my paper.

By the end of the semester, I left with a solid A in the class, a new confidence in myself and a passion for history that I had not previously had. Last spring, when I begun my thesis, I knew exactly what I wanted to do, but, even more so, I knew exactly who I wanted to work with.

As a student, he has pushed me to challenge myself. He has constantly placed me out of my comfort zone, making me think deeply, read actively and write purposefully. Sometimes, in discussions with him, I’d say something, and he’d look at me and say “I don’t understand. Try again”. Looking at him, I knew he sometimes knew exactly what I meant. However I myself didn’t know what I meant. I needed clarity, and he recognized and demanded it. When I turn in drafts of my papers to him, he rips them apart, not because they are necessarily bad, but because he expects excellence. Mediocrity is unacceptable. Good is even unacceptable. I no longer read, research or write the same way I did four years ago, and, despite the dozens of other professors I have had, I entirely credit that to him, and him alone.

As a future teacher, I can only dream to be as inspiring as he is. Sometimes I think the only thing he loves more than the topic of religious toleration is sharing this love with others. His passion when he talks about it is contagious and his enthusiasm shines through in his teaching. When he talks, his arms flail, his face lights up and his voice fills with joy. He must teach similar lessons, year after year, yet you wouldn’t know it by watching him; by how excited he gets, one would think he was discovering these fascinating tidbits of history for the first time, when in fact the man has studied religious history for years. I want to teach with his level of excitement and zeal. I also want to teach with his intrinsically supportive nature. I want to instill confidence in my students, like he has done with me, and help them reach their full potential. I want to make them be the best they can be, and I want them to know that I genuinely believe in them. Because belief, as I have learned in regards to religious history, is a powerful thing, though not always productively powerful. Belief in your students can prove equally influential; equally strong. Because belief in a student, can translate to belief in that student’s self, as it did with me.

Academics aside, I have learned one immensely important thing from Jesse, that has nothing to do with research, reading, writing or even history itself. When discussing the Reformation leaders Martin Luther and John Calvin, and other religious radicals, he stated that he supposed he studied them because he didn’t understand or necessarily agree with them.

This I will never forget.

Because isn’t that, as people, what we should always do? When something’s unclear to us, before blindly disagreeing shouldn’t we be knowledgeable about what exactly we are disagreeing with? We all know those in politics who seem to detest the opposing viewpoint on an issue, but do so only because of the political title they claim. Or those who still to this day despise other religions simply because the person they worship may have a different name.

I may not agree with creationism, but I want to learn about it. I may not agree with privatization of social security, but again, I want to learn about it. Because instead of calling myself a Democrat or an Agnostic/Athiest, I want to know what those words mean. And to do that, I need to know the opposing view point, to fully formulate and support my stance. If you don’t have knowledge about the opposing side, how can you reputably disagree with it? Knowledge is necessary for debate. To fully grasp who we are and what we believe in, we need to turn to our resources and try to gain an understanding of the entire world around us. As Jesse has taught me, we need to learn to place ourselves in context.

(Apologies for the ramble; I will bid you farewell as I now must submerge myself in more thesis-ing)

Elizabeth Edwards, Freedom of Speech and Handling Death

Thankfully, protester turnout at Elizabeth Edwards funeral was minimal, and rather anti-climatic for the Westboro Baptist Church who led it. However, five protesters did indeed show up, and we unfortunately know that this won’t be the last time a bunch of lunatics will attempt to make an already sad day even more tragic for the friends and families who have lost a loved one.

When did it become ok to disrupt funerals; days typically reserved for mourning and respect? When did we, as people, become that tactless and insensitive?

This issue raises two corresponding points in my mind: freedom of speech and reactions to death. Both equally polarized; both equally concerning.

Freedom of speech is unquestionably a beautiful luxury. Journalists have enjoyed this privilege. Some have even died for this privilege, in an attempt to preserve its importance. (To digress, if any are interested, I highly recommend the book Disappeared, a biography about Irma Flaquer, a Guatemalan journalist who refused to be silent and thus paid the price). But laypeople additionally enjoy this privilege, and many would never want to relinquish this gift.

However, when does freedom of speech become too “free”? How do we circumvent the danger and distress that this freedom unfortunately causes? I truly have no answer to this question, as it is difficult to find a solution to. Surely, some entities have successfully reigned in freedom of speech. Take, for instance, sexual harassment policies. One is not allowed to make sexual comments to their coworkers without facing punishment or even termination. However, how do we extend this? How do we make it so that it is not ok for a child to bully another child; calling them hurtful names and tormenting them? While the one child has a right to speech, doesn’t the other have a right to happiness? Isn’t that an equally engrained right in our countries foundation? Does that mean that freedom of speech and entitlement to the pursuit of happiness are sometimes mutually exclusive? Are they contradictory?

Freedom of speech is a wonderful thing. However, when it causes direct harm to others, it becomes destructive, and embarrassing. This privilege ends up in the wrong hands too often, and proves that we cannot trust everyone to handle it with the responsibility and respect that it dictates.

I simply don’t believe we as people have the right to go protest a stranger’s funeral .I think it is tasteless, and removes the glamour from freedom of speech. One should be able to express their beliefs, but only to an extent in which it refrains from harming others. These crazed religious fanatics are no longer standing up for what they believe in; they are infringing on others simply for attention and the hope they can cause (unnecessary) additional pain.

This brings me to my second point, which involves how people handle death. For those who have experienced death of a close one, we know the pain that surrounds the experience. Therefore, the time proceeding death has no place for chastisement, criticism and disrespect.

Even if you despised the person, is it necessary to condemn them after their passing? When Michael Jackson died, people everywhere seized the opportunity to tear him to shreds. Now, I clearly did not know the man personally, but I think we all would agree that to some extent he was off his rocker. However does that negate the fact that a man (a father, a brother, a son and a friend) died too early? Death is not the time for public criticism. Think what you want, but do not broadcast your thoughts to people, including the family and friends of the one who passed, just in order to get your self-motivated agenda a glimpse of publicity.

The same goes for those picketing the deaths of soldiers. Do I agree with this war? No, not at all. However I respect and appreciate everyone who has gone and fought for our country, despite how I felt about the executive decision to enter the war. Despite political beliefs, I know that these are brave men and women, and I honor and respect their commitment and willingness to die for their country. Protest against the war; don’t protest against those who have already died because of it.

Similarly, to the Baptist psychos: go flaunt your close minded beliefs to an abortion clinic. Go stand on a street corner with a sign stating fetus’s have heartbeats too. Go hold a sign that says “God Hates Gays”. Go put a cute baby up on a billboard with the words “PRO-LIFE” stamped across it. Vocalize your beliefs in a way in which will still retain you a grain of decency and respect. Do not go to the funeral of someone who supported a constitutional, legal right and ruin this already heartbreaking day.

Elizabeth Edwards passing is a hard one to swallow, as many saw her as a wonderful, strong woman. I wish her death and funeral could have gone without controversy, for she deserved to be honored for the reputable person she was. Her level of tolerance and open-mindedness should have been celebrated, not defamed; however it highlighted her amazing level of class, which, as evident by the Westboro Church, is unfortunately unmatched by many in this country.

"A Friend to All is a Friend to None"

Does it make me a fatalist to admit my love of and belief in that quote? Does it make me an unhopeful cynist who believes that, when it comes down to it, true and real friendship is extremely rare to find?

I don't think so.

To vindicate myself, let me make clear that I appreciate all the friendships I have, or have ever had, even the ones that I've come to admit are, or were, merely superficial. And I am by no means ungrateful to those that I have previously and currently refer to by the generic title of "friend".

However, friendship, to me, in its truest and purest form, is worth more than we commonly give it credit for. A friend is not simply someone with whom you can laugh. It's not someone you go to dinner with once a month. It's often not even that person you feel comfortable enough to cry to.

No, a true friend is more than that. Yes, you may still indulge in the frivalence of friendship with your friends; the jokes, the outings, the confidential conversations. But a true friend, provides more than companionship.

A true friend has unconditional love for you. Their love is not impeeded by bumps in your relationship, and instead continues to grow stronger. This is someone who believes in you and finds perfection in all of your imperfections. Does this mean a friend never gets upset with you? No, of course not. Annoyance and irritation is often unavoidable. The distinction is still being able to love the person with the same intensity.

A friend also devotes the time into a friendship. This is someone who values you and stands by you not only at your best, but at your absolute worst. They aren't there for you 90% of the time, or only when it is convenient for them, but are there for you even at the most inopportune times. This does not imply one must see and talk to their friend 24/7. Life is busy, and true friends realize this. But it is keeping contact, not only when you want it, but when you know the other person needs it. More importantly, it is carving out the time and place in your heart to carry your friends with you at all times; keeping them in your thoughts and subsequent life. Friendships aren't easy to maintain, but true ones are worth the effort.

Lastly, a true friendship takes desire. Life, for many of us, is about figuring out who we are and finding our identity. For I am of the belief that there is no greater relationship than the one we have with ourselves. However, a true friend wants in on that intimacy. A true friend knows you sometimes even better than you know yourself. And, if they don't yet, they want to get to know you to that extent. Do you ever notice how mothers seem to know everything about you? They always know when you are upset, angry or nervous- no matter how hard you try to hide it. Mothers, like my own, are proven true friends because they often know their children better than anyone. A true friend wants to learn everything about you, because, once they have, they know how to best serve you in your friendship. They know what you need, what you want, and how to make you happy.

Now, why is a friend to all a friend to none? Because no one, in reality, has enough love, time and desire to give everyone the type of friendship I have just described. It is physically impossible to have those feelings and make that inseperable commitment to everyone. To foster lasting, true friendships is strenuous, and not easy. But then again, nothing worth working for is easy.

Again, this is not to say that those other "friendships" we have are not enjoyable, or even valuable. My peripheral groups of friends play an important role in my life, and I am priveleged to have them. However, realistically, those groups of people may come and go, physically or emotionally. And while it may be disheartening to lose a "friend", I find solace in knowing that my true friends will always be there.

Friendship is rare, but the rarest things in life are often the most beautiful.

So to all my true friends, thank you for making my world a better and more beautiful place for me.