From time to time, I’ve talked about the classes I’m teaching and what I’m trying to accomplish in each. One of the costs/benefits of being a lecturer at the bottom of a (shrinking) pecking order in the History Department at SF State is that I am sort of a “utility infielder,” getting assigned to teach a wide variety of classes, regardless of my areas of interest/expertise. It does keep me on my toes!
Last term, I taught “Genocide and the Holocaust,” covering a class (listed in both Jewish Studies and History) for whom the regular professor was on leave. This term I am handling “International Relations through Cinema” for the IR department. While I get to learn new things, the fact that I’m “pinch-hitting” (sorry for the multiple baseball metaphors) means that I don’t have any expectation of getting to repeat the experience and refine my thinking/approach.
In addition, this fall I am also teaching a History Department course called “The History of Me.” It’s a freshman-oriented course, which we have offered for the past several years as part of a set of courses intended for students who need to meet general education requirements, so we can’t lean too heavily on the “history” part.
I’m fortunate to be able to build on (steal from) several of my colleagues who have designed and taught this class. The have emphasized using the skills of oral history so each student can compile a family history. There is a unit on SF State, focused on the strike in 1968 which made a lot of news in that confrontational (but now seemingly ancient) year; featuring Governor Reagan and University President Sam Hayakawa. This unit provides practice in using primary sources and connecting with the history of the place which is a significant part of our student’s lives. Other professors have stressed issues of identity, drawing on recent autobiographies of activists and diverse backgrounds.
Since I have a more philosophical bent, I was tempted to have them read Augustine and Rousseau as early exemplars of autobiographical writing. But I decided that these guys are pretty heavy lifting for university newbies. I am going to use a few small selections from Montaigne, as I discussed a few weeks ago (“How to Live, 071423), and excerpts from the autobiographies of Benjamin Franklin and Frederick Douglass, which are more accessible. We will also be reading a bunch of contemporary (20/21C) authors, several with a decidedly practical, “how-to” angle; overall a combination of examples and methodology.
Still, as I say in the syllabus: “This is not a hard class in terms of quantity of reading or writing. It is a hard class in terms of the mental work and emotional courage required to gain significant insights into yourself and your history.” Indeed, I’ve put a picture of a mirror on the top of the syllabus. I will push students to look hard at themselves and their context. I will ask them to consider and write about their lives so far (i.e. 18-20 years), their family context, their cultural milieu, their generational cohort (Gen Z), and how they fit into the historical events of their era.
One of the perspectives I want them to gain is to realize that they live in history; not in a vacuum or even an overly solipsistic universe. As Marx said: “[People] make their own history, but they do not make it as they please; they do not make it under self-selected circumstances, but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted from the past.” [Marx, Karl. The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte (1852)]. In other words, you can’t understand your self without understanding your history.
After the Thanksgiving break, I will ask them (perhaps unfairly) to look into their future. I will ask them to write their own eulogy as of 2083 (their current life expectancy). I have always remembered the scene in the movie version of Huckleberry Finn where the boys are presumed drowned on the river and a funeral is held. They sneak in the back and watch the impact of their (brief) lives on their family and community. It will be a sobering assignment; actually, doubly so. I plan to ask them to write, first, the eulogy for the life they fear that they might have. Then, as a second assignment, I will ask them to write the eulogy for the life to which they aspire…should be interesting.
In order to be grounded in my review of their work, I will be doing my own version of these assignments. (Sauce for the goose and all that.) This way, I will get something out of the class for myself, in addition to whatever I can give them.
I have to confess some trepidation about this course in general. It’s some distance from the kind of History I thought/hoped I would be able to do when I was in grad school. My orientation is macro, philosophical, and political; and this is micro and personal. The “great events” and “great men,” and great trends are all the periphery of these individual stories written by individuals whose lives are but a fraction of what they are likely to be. It’s a bit like looking through the wide end of the telescope towards the eyepiece. In that way, it will help me remember that the grand narratives are also (only?) the aggregates of so many personal tales and experiences. As with the students, for me this course is not a “heavy lift” in terms of the substance of history, but it could be engaging…and fun.
It should be—on several levels—an interesting experiment. Look for a report next year.
Last term, I taught “Genocide and the Holocaust,” covering a class (listed in both Jewish Studies and History) for whom the regular professor was on leave. This term I am handling “International Relations through Cinema” for the IR department. While I get to learn new things, the fact that I’m “pinch-hitting” (sorry for the multiple baseball metaphors) means that I don’t have any expectation of getting to repeat the experience and refine my thinking/approach.
In addition, this fall I am also teaching a History Department course called “The History of Me.” It’s a freshman-oriented course, which we have offered for the past several years as part of a set of courses intended for students who need to meet general education requirements, so we can’t lean too heavily on the “history” part.
I’m fortunate to be able to build on (steal from) several of my colleagues who have designed and taught this class. The have emphasized using the skills of oral history so each student can compile a family history. There is a unit on SF State, focused on the strike in 1968 which made a lot of news in that confrontational (but now seemingly ancient) year; featuring Governor Reagan and University President Sam Hayakawa. This unit provides practice in using primary sources and connecting with the history of the place which is a significant part of our student’s lives. Other professors have stressed issues of identity, drawing on recent autobiographies of activists and diverse backgrounds.
Since I have a more philosophical bent, I was tempted to have them read Augustine and Rousseau as early exemplars of autobiographical writing. But I decided that these guys are pretty heavy lifting for university newbies. I am going to use a few small selections from Montaigne, as I discussed a few weeks ago (“How to Live, 071423), and excerpts from the autobiographies of Benjamin Franklin and Frederick Douglass, which are more accessible. We will also be reading a bunch of contemporary (20/21C) authors, several with a decidedly practical, “how-to” angle; overall a combination of examples and methodology.
Still, as I say in the syllabus: “This is not a hard class in terms of quantity of reading or writing. It is a hard class in terms of the mental work and emotional courage required to gain significant insights into yourself and your history.” Indeed, I’ve put a picture of a mirror on the top of the syllabus. I will push students to look hard at themselves and their context. I will ask them to consider and write about their lives so far (i.e. 18-20 years), their family context, their cultural milieu, their generational cohort (Gen Z), and how they fit into the historical events of their era.
One of the perspectives I want them to gain is to realize that they live in history; not in a vacuum or even an overly solipsistic universe. As Marx said: “[People] make their own history, but they do not make it as they please; they do not make it under self-selected circumstances, but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted from the past.” [Marx, Karl. The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte (1852)]. In other words, you can’t understand your self without understanding your history.
After the Thanksgiving break, I will ask them (perhaps unfairly) to look into their future. I will ask them to write their own eulogy as of 2083 (their current life expectancy). I have always remembered the scene in the movie version of Huckleberry Finn where the boys are presumed drowned on the river and a funeral is held. They sneak in the back and watch the impact of their (brief) lives on their family and community. It will be a sobering assignment; actually, doubly so. I plan to ask them to write, first, the eulogy for the life they fear that they might have. Then, as a second assignment, I will ask them to write the eulogy for the life to which they aspire…should be interesting.
In order to be grounded in my review of their work, I will be doing my own version of these assignments. (Sauce for the goose and all that.) This way, I will get something out of the class for myself, in addition to whatever I can give them.
I have to confess some trepidation about this course in general. It’s some distance from the kind of History I thought/hoped I would be able to do when I was in grad school. My orientation is macro, philosophical, and political; and this is micro and personal. The “great events” and “great men,” and great trends are all the periphery of these individual stories written by individuals whose lives are but a fraction of what they are likely to be. It’s a bit like looking through the wide end of the telescope towards the eyepiece. In that way, it will help me remember that the grand narratives are also (only?) the aggregates of so many personal tales and experiences. As with the students, for me this course is not a “heavy lift” in terms of the substance of history, but it could be engaging…and fun.
It should be—on several levels—an interesting experiment. Look for a report next year.
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