I am making a more concerted effort to stay active on blogging - while also devoting too much time to Twitter, and even Facebook has snuck back into the rotation (although that's mainly related to the fact that I just celebrated another birthday and thus received many kind notes from friends around the world (which is pretty amazing/cool since I don't publish my birthday on FB). Initially I typed in "endured" instead of celebrated, mainly because it was a birthday I wasn't looking forward to, which I'll discuss on a later post, but it turned out to be a wonderful day - and I've survived another year.
Today I want to take a very quick break from syllabus construction to talk about an odd event that happened in class in the fall semester. I was teaching a class called Crossroads, which is a junior level course I designed. Of all the classes I've taught over the last thirty years it may be the oddest, which is really saying something. The idea behind the class was to look at the convergence of societies that came together in Central Asia, so, naturally, there was a big Silk Road component, which is a topic that fascinates me (and, which, I've traveled on). A big part of the class was the in-class analysis of various artifacts from the area. I would project a picture of a sculpture or a mosque or a painting or a mummy on the board and the students would have to, within the 75 minutes of the class, write up a two page bulleted paper. The British always refer to these as "white papers," although I guess for our business-focused students the best comparison was to an executive summary. I gave the students no information at all. Now, they were not completely adrift because a) we had devoted a few weeks to discussing the foundations of the cultures that met in Central Asia, b) they could work in groups, c) they could bring in technology, and d) they could, ask a class, ask me as many as three questions (which I sort of vaguely answered).
Strangely, they were enjoyed the process, and I suddenly found myself with a group of budding archaeologists and historians. One day one of the students said, "OK, explain to me why there is Zoroastrian iconography on that Hindu statue." My response was, "First off, shut up, this isn't Middlebury, and, secondly, I assure you that that is the first time that sentence has ever been uttered at Champlain College" - although, obviously, I was delighted. In short, they really enjoyed the challenge. It also had some real world application, however, since it was one of those transferable skills - bosses do ask you to become "experts" on a subject with an hour's notice and want you to produce the executive summary that they can read as they walk down the hall to talk to potential clients or the board of trustees.
One day we were looking at the famous ascetic Buddha and the groups were happily working away. I was in the back of the room helping one of the groups when I noticed that my student Zachary Svobada was on the phone. The other members of the group had an amused look on their faces. I started to give Zachary some well-deserved abuse for being on the phone in class (one of my huge rules that result in torture and death) when he gave me the "hold on, I'm on the phone" hand signal, and before I could say anything one of his group members said, "he's on the phone to Pakistan." Yes, he was trying to call a museum in Lahore, Pakistan. As part of their research they had figured out that the Buddha itself was in a museum in Lahore and Zachary figured out that the best approach to just call them and try get some resident expert on the line. Sadly, the time difference meant that even though he actually got the museum on the phone it was closed for the day - which saved him from the potential language problem. Still, I had to give him major credit for the effort. Clearly, we're not Camp Champ anymore.
Today I want to take a very quick break from syllabus construction to talk about an odd event that happened in class in the fall semester. I was teaching a class called Crossroads, which is a junior level course I designed. Of all the classes I've taught over the last thirty years it may be the oddest, which is really saying something. The idea behind the class was to look at the convergence of societies that came together in Central Asia, so, naturally, there was a big Silk Road component, which is a topic that fascinates me (and, which, I've traveled on). A big part of the class was the in-class analysis of various artifacts from the area. I would project a picture of a sculpture or a mosque or a painting or a mummy on the board and the students would have to, within the 75 minutes of the class, write up a two page bulleted paper. The British always refer to these as "white papers," although I guess for our business-focused students the best comparison was to an executive summary. I gave the students no information at all. Now, they were not completely adrift because a) we had devoted a few weeks to discussing the foundations of the cultures that met in Central Asia, b) they could work in groups, c) they could bring in technology, and d) they could, ask a class, ask me as many as three questions (which I sort of vaguely answered).
Strangely, they were enjoyed the process, and I suddenly found myself with a group of budding archaeologists and historians. One day one of the students said, "OK, explain to me why there is Zoroastrian iconography on that Hindu statue." My response was, "First off, shut up, this isn't Middlebury, and, secondly, I assure you that that is the first time that sentence has ever been uttered at Champlain College" - although, obviously, I was delighted. In short, they really enjoyed the challenge. It also had some real world application, however, since it was one of those transferable skills - bosses do ask you to become "experts" on a subject with an hour's notice and want you to produce the executive summary that they can read as they walk down the hall to talk to potential clients or the board of trustees.
One day we were looking at the famous ascetic Buddha and the groups were happily working away. I was in the back of the room helping one of the groups when I noticed that my student Zachary Svobada was on the phone. The other members of the group had an amused look on their faces. I started to give Zachary some well-deserved abuse for being on the phone in class (one of my huge rules that result in torture and death) when he gave me the "hold on, I'm on the phone" hand signal, and before I could say anything one of his group members said, "he's on the phone to Pakistan." Yes, he was trying to call a museum in Lahore, Pakistan. As part of their research they had figured out that the Buddha itself was in a museum in Lahore and Zachary figured out that the best approach to just call them and try get some resident expert on the line. Sadly, the time difference meant that even though he actually got the museum on the phone it was closed for the day - which saved him from the potential language problem. Still, I had to give him major credit for the effort. Clearly, we're not Camp Champ anymore.
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| This is a Buddha from the ancient area of Gandhara, which would be in the area made up of a chunk of Pakistan and Afghanistan. It was a remarkably rich period culturally. The first artistic representation of the Buddha with a physical body, as compared to symbols, is believed to have been in this region - a merging of Indian and Greek concepts. This is the ascetic Buddha, coming in from his years in the wilderness and right before the moment of Enlightenment. It was a perfect artifact to use since it expresses the coming together of these different societies. |
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| Zachary on the phone to Lahore. Late in the semester he did, successfully, manage to call a museum in the UK and learned all sorts of inside information about Parthian kings and their coins. I told him that I didn't want to be dismissive of his major here at Champlain, but that I wouldn't rest until he pursued a doctorate in history. This is definitely one of my favorite moments in a long career. |
What a great post and I enjoyed reading it as much beamed with joy knowing that Zachary is our son. Thank you so much for challenging students to expand their skill set and let them seek unconventional ways to grow.
ReplyDeleteSincerely,
Michael Svoboda
Thank you for the kind words, Michael. It's such a pleasure to have Zachary in class. Obviously, he's really smart, but he also brings a very sophisticated, enlightened and wonderfully quirky angle to class discussions. He's easily one of my favorite students in my way too many years of teaching.
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