No More Teachers

All of my final exams are now over. I say “exams” but I really mean papers, since I had no exams for the literature, writing, art, and art history courses I had this semester. The final, eighth semester.

Seven of these semesters were at Fairfield University, with one at IAU, and one summer course at Boston University.

In total, that’s 42 courses, with 35 different professors. Then of course there are the professors I met but didn’t take, the Jesuits, the faculty I interacted with in various capacities, and coaches. Excluding study abroad, I took one professor three times, and four professors twice. In each of those cases and more, the amount of individual attention has been a huge element to making leaps in learning about writing, reading, contemporary art, foreign language, thinking, analyzing, and more.

Maybe I could just say they helped me expand my mind about life itself, or something to that effect. What often happens in practice is that I bring so many opinions to the table that there’s a clashing of viewpoints between me and everyone else (though in recent semesters I’ve kept most of my thoughts to myself when in class). But I think that you can’t really get a true liberal education without that kind of consistent debate. Of course, almost any kind of discussion in humanities courses presents the danger of transforming into a discussion about the inherent moral superiority of leftist political issues (but then there I go with my opinions again).

At the end of “your four years here” students are required/strongly encouraged to fill out various surveys, and for each of them I indicated that the teaching faculty have been an extraordinary part of my experience, and overall, it’s true.

 

 

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