Summer's Teachable Moments

WM asked Wabash faculty and staff members to recall their own summer teachable moments.

During the summer between my junior and  senior years of  college, I took a mathematics class that had a travel component—seven countries in 31 days. One of the places we visited was Mycenae in Greece. There was another group of students there, who raced up the hill, pointed at the Lion’s Gate, and raced back down. In contrast, our group had spent time preparing for our visit, and we had a much richer experience: we found the circular grave structure that resembles Stonehenge, the deep  cistern, the huge water jars, and  many other details that the other group totally missed.
This experience confirmed for me that knowledge and preparation do not destroy beauty, but allow you to  experience it more fully.

Assistant Professor of Chemistry Ann Taylor

 

Frederik Ohles

“The drive shaft has a crack in it,” I said.

“Yep,” said the maintenance man. “It’ll break some day.”

The drive shaft was an essential part of the mechanism for the Ferris wheel I was running that summer at the amusement park. When it broke,  it was on my shift. I turned off the power, looked up at the riders in 16 seats gliding slowly to a halt, shouted, “I’ll be back,” and walked to the administration building to report that the maintenance man had been right.

I learned that day that not everyone had my sense that we should take care of tomorrow’s problems today if possible.

Frederik Ohles,
Senior Research Fellow
Center of Inquiry in the Liberal Arts

 

Last June and July, I worked feverishly on the final draft of my Ph.D. dissertation, often delirious with stress and exhaustion. Yet I have vivid memories of breaks: catching a rest on the sweet grass in the comforting sun; running around campus with my  two- and four-year-old kids; pacing the University of Washington quad at night, studying its beauties; doing pull-ups at the ROTC proving grounds to get a burst of energy in the night’s wee hours and fresh air; sunrises of despair on deadline days, gutting it out anyway and meeting the deadlines—victory after victory following difficulty after difficulty.

I turned in the final draft just under the wire, three days before I drove  out here to Wabash—a magical,  exhilarating feeling of achievement. Work makes life sweet, indeed.

Visiting Instructor Patrick Myers
Lilly Teaching Fellow in the
Classics Department

 

Joy Castro

Last summer,  I spent a week at the Provincetown Fine Arts Work Center learning how to make handmade books from Peter Madden, an artist who teaches at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. Provincetown—a beautiful beach town that has long been a haven for artists, queers, and other outsiders—was a wonderful education in itself, but I spent most of my nights and days in the workshop lab, which was open 24/7.

As a little kid, I used to write and illustrate books on sheets of paper torn from memo pads, stapling  them together to make “books.” In Provincetown, I used handmade paper from India, silk, leather, cardboard  coffee-cup holders, chopsticks, tunafish cans, and waxed thread to interpret in visual forms some of the stories I’ve published. It was every bit as much fun as the memo pads.

When I get back from sabbatical, I’ll be teaching the skills I learned in advanced creative writing courses at Wabash. Many thanks for the John J. Coss Faculty Development Funds that made it possible.

Associate Professor of English Joy Castro

 

	Nancy Doemel

During one high school  summer, I worked as a camp counselor for severely handicapped  children and adults. Each  individual, whether one of the six-year-old boys I had in a cabin, or one of the adult spina bifida patients I had later in the summer, taught me to value very small moments: the glee in the eyes of the six-year-old when his body brace came off and he could float in the swimming pool; the sincere thanks from the wheelchair-bound adult for picking up something out of reach; and the gratitude of each handicapped individual there for the experience of being outdoors and away from home just one week of the summer. I learned to respect their abilities and to be thankful for every ability I’ve been given.

I remember one young adult  cerebral palsied camper who communicated with a stick in his mouth, pointing at the letters on a board in front of him. He was very quick—and a good speller—and told jokes with his spelling board. In fact, I found myself resenting the able-bodied teenagers who followed them later in the summer and pouted when they had to go to swimming or boating. If they only had one hour in the bodies of those other children . . . .

Nancy Doemel
Senior Advancment Officer and Coordinator of Volunteer Services