Behind Closed Doors ...
During the fall term, 2004, I had occasion to teach a course on the scientific revolution at an inland campus of the University of California. I was asked to teach the course less than two weeks prior to the term, and was expected to know (somehow) that the term began on a Friday, rather than on a more sensible Monday. I discovered this less than 24 hours in advance. Because my syllabus was already printed up, and I didn't care to begin amending it on the first day, I went to the first class meeting with a loose outline of general remarks.I'm trying to think of objections to Mark's observation. ...Here is a precis of what I said.
I asserted to the assembled students, all 125 of them, that they were in the midst of one of the most interesting places on the face of the earth. All around them, within ten minutes of walking, were people doing interesting things, talking about interesting things, thinking interesting things.
All behind closed doors.
Walk into a history department and what does one find? History? No! One finds a cadre of administrative assistants worrying about the most mundane concerns.
Walk into a biology department and what does one find? Life? No! Just a lot of closed doors and perhaps a case of stuffed birds that hasn't been tended for thirty years.
Tune into any h-net discussion group, and what does one find? Too rarely, it is discussion. Too often, it is the lifeless bookkeeping of academic life and careers. (I find most -- not all -- of the h-net discussion lists to be exceedingly poor portals on the interests that motivate research and conversations within the fields that they -- the lists -- represent.)
I did not blame students for thinking, therefore (and insofar as they thought it) , that life off campus might be more interesting -- edifying, engaging, even entertaining -- than life on campus. That they should want to sustain a constant connection to that seemingly more interesting world via their cellphones.
Some few of them, through luck or persistence, would get past the closed doors or gates. Most would not.
Most would depart the university having experienced a few flashes of the wonderful life of scholarship that takes place behind closed doors. Too few flashes, perhaps; few enough that they would be justified in thinking that the university was about as compelling as the front office of the power company.
I had few recommendations for overcoming this preposterous state of affairs. I conceded that many in the class would construe my claim -- that they were in the midst of one of the most interesting places on earth -- as hype, or a delusion on my part.
But I pleaded with them to test my assertion, just once at least, by banging on a closed door and demanding that the historian, philosopher, physicist, geographer, chemist behind the door show them something interesting. I promised them (I am no longer there to be held accountable) that they would not be disappointed.