Wise Up
Education
By David Bruce
June 30, 2008
• Teachers: For what it’s worth, I have written discussion guides for Nancy Garden’s “Annie on My Mind,” Lloyd Alexander’s “The Book of Three,” and Jerry Spinelli’s “Maniac Magee.” Free downloads at http://stores.lulu.com/bruceb.
• Kai Chang says, “One of my favorite professors in college was a self-confessed liar.” Dr. K taught the Dismal Science, aka Economics, and in particular a course on Corporate Finance/Capital Markets. Dr. K wanted his students to check what were said to be facts and to challenge falsehoods, and therefore at the beginning of his course he would announce, “I know some of you have already heard of me, but for the benefit of those who are unfamiliar, let me explain how I teach. [From] today until the class right before finals, it is my intention to work into each of my lectures ... one lie. Your job, as students, among other things, is to try and catch me in the Lie of the Day.”
Early in the course, the lie would be obvious, and many students challenged the falsehood. Of course, this made Dr. K happy: “Very good! In fact, the opposite is true. Moving on ....” Occasionally, late in the course no one caught the Lie of the Day. When that happened, Dr. K would say, “Ah ha! Each of you has one falsehood in your lecture notes. Discuss amongst yourselves what it might be, and I will tell you next Monday. That is all.”
Over the weekend, students would work in study groups, and on Monday, students would give their ideas on what the Lie of the Day had been. Late in the quarter, Dr. K would do something devious. He would give a lecture that had no lie. On Monday, after he had shot down students’ attempts to find a lie in the previous lecture (“no, in fact that is true — look at [x]”), he would say, “Do you remember the first lecture — how I said that ‘every lecture has a lie?’ Well — THAT was a lie. My previous lecture was completely on the level. But I am glad you reviewed your notes rigorously this weekend — a lot of it will be on the final. Moving on…”
Mr. Chang says that “I’ve had many instructors before and since, but few that I remember with as much fondness — and [that is] why my favorite professor was a chronic liar.”
• Do great writers make great teachers? Maybe not. Emily Brontë, author of “Wuthering Heights,” taught briefly at Law Hill School in Halifax, England. She preferred the school dog to any of her pupils — a fact that she told her students. Anne Brontë, author of “Agnes Grey,” got a job with the Ingham family as a governess, a position that requires teaching. The two Ingham children were so unruly that she ended tying them to a table leg — something that Mrs. Ingham discovered when she checked up on her children. Charlotte Brontë, author of “Jane Eyre,” also got jobs as a governess. The adjectives she used to describe the children she taught in her job included “riotous, perverse, and unmanageable.”
• During Mary Beard’s first year studying classics at Newnham College, Cambridge, a male friend saw one of her essays that had been marked by a tutor, who had written, “This is very good; I think it would get a first.” The male friend was shocked and said, “You! Get a first!” Of course, a first is a top honor in Britain, and at the time — the mid-1970s — lots of men thought that women were incapable of getting firsts, especially in a male-dominated field such as classics. She says, “From that moment, I was bloody determined to show them.” And she did show them, becoming a Cambridge professor and the author of many well-read books on the ancient world.
• Barbara Feldon, who played the role of Agent 99 on TV’s “Get Smart,” is friends with artist Jan Stussy, whom she calls “the most prolific artist” she knows. She once asked him about his creation of art, “How did you develop the courage?” He replied, “When I was in the 10th grade, I realized that if you simply make the first mark, the rest will just happen. Whether it’s that first mark with a brush on a canvas or pencil to paper, boldly make it and then let yourself free-fall. Art creates art.” Hearing this, Ms. Feldon, who is now the author of “Living Alone and Loving It,” added writing to her other creative endeavors, and she often tells herself, “Make the first mark.”
• When Marshall McLuhan started teaching at the University of Toronto in Canada, some professors were opposed to him, including ASP Woodhouse, a Milton scholar, who said, “This is not the sort of person we want at this university.” Taking a graduate seminar taught by professor McLuhan was Lennie Anderson, a man of great intelligence. Professor McLuhan gave him a B, a grade that Mr. Anderson protested in a letter. Professor McLuhan responded, “Oh, you were definitely the best. But an A from me in this university could mark you unfit. Keep your head down, assemble your credentials, get tenure. Then you can tell them all to go to hell.”
• Artist Beauford Delaney taught author James Baldwin how to see. They were standing together on a corner in Greenwich Village, and Mr. Delaney pointed down and told Mr. Baldwin, “Look.” Mr. Baldwin looked and saw nothing but a puddle of water, so Mr. Delaney told him, “Look again.”
This time Mr. Baldwin really saw what was there: Floating on the water was some oil, and reflected in the oil was the city. Mr. Baldwin says, “It was a great revelation to me. I can’t explain it. He taught me how to see, and how to trust what I saw. Painters have often taught writers how to see. And once you’ve had that experience, you see differently.”
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