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My 30 Minutes with Ta-Nehisi Coates

At the 2016 National Council of Teachers of English annual convention in Atlanta, GA I had the supreme pleasure of preparing and conducting a short interview with Ta-Nehisi Coates, author of The Beautiful Struggle and Between the World and Me, for the convention. Before being asked to conduct the interview I knew little of Coates’s work, but I accepted the opporutnity because I felt I could learn a great deal from the experience. In hind’s sight, I certainly didn’t know all that this experience would mean to me when I said, “Sure. This sounds like fun.”

In late September I received a call from Susan Houser, the In-coming President of NCTE. Susan and I are close friends. We have served together at NCTE for about three years, and we talked a lot about her convention in the lead up to the Atlanta meeting.

“I have a question for you,” she began. “How would you like to interview Ta-Nehisi Coates as part of one of the general sessions?”

I accepted. We talked a little about procedure, and then we ended the call.

I found a copy of Between the World and Me and began to read. For those not familiar with the book, it is a memoir written in the form of a letter to Coates’s 16-year-old son. The book covers a wide landscape of the human experience from a very specific point of view–that of a black man living in the Mid-Atlantic United States.

As I read through the book I would jot questions down. Some very specific, and some quite general on politics, race, and education. I thought carefully about how to frame each question for what I hope would turn into longer conversations not only on the stage, but in the larger convention. I hoped people would leave thinking more purposefully about their place in this world, examining their own experience and considering the voices and considerations of others.

It is easy, at first, to see the differences that exist between you and any other person. In the case of Coates and me, we couldn’t be more unalike at first glance. We grew up in different parts of the country under very different circumstances. We attended college in two very different areas of the country and at very different times. These differences are easy to see within the first few chapters of the text.  But as I continued to read the differences began to fade to the background. Rather, the things we have in common emerge and become the primary focus of the book.

This is how the interview ultimately took shape as well. On stage we talked about his book and its success. We talked about process and what the book means to so many people who have read it, including me. One point that I was happy to dwell on for a moment or two was that in his letter to his son he is able to capture the unbelievable sense of fear and absolute optimism a father has for his children as they grow and begin to make a mark in the world. And, almost as quickly as it started, it was over.

We only had 30 minutes, but it felt like 30 seconds. The biggest takeaway that I think I will carry from this entire experience is that an open mind is likely the best characteristic to carry with you in your search for a more enriched life. Before this opporutnity presented istelf, I didn’t know about Coates beyond one or two of his essays he had written for online magazines. And, I don’t believe that I would have picked up Between the World and Me if NCTE hadn’t been asked me to prepare questions for the interview.  But I am certainly better for it as a result. Reading Coates’s book and talking with him in person has challenged me to think about my own experiences and relationships in an effort to better understand the impact I can make in my own community.

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Seeing The Forest: The future of English Majors

There’s a saying that goes, “he couldn’t see the forest for the trees.” It means that someone is so focused on the details of a particular project or aspect of an organization that he (or she) is missing the bigger picture. I have been guilty, for sure, at being so focused on the individual trees that I lose track of the larger mission, but I have been lucky, in some cases, to zoom out just in time and adjust my thinking to work toward the bigger goal.

A few weeks ago, while preparing for a guest lecture in a business writing class, I came across an article about a new art installataion at the National Art Museum in Tokyo, Japan called “Forest of Numbers.” The installation was designed by Emanmanuelle Moureax, and his work was to mark the 10-year anniversary of the museum by visualizing ten years into the future. You can read more about Moureaux’s work here: https://vimeo.com/203244686

I love this art installation. Its sheer size and scope are amazing. Thousands of paper numbers in a full spectrum of colors hung by hundreds of volunteers. The magnitude of this piece only amplifies its message: we are living in exponential times. There are, indeed, great waves of data streaming into, throughout and around our routines and rituals. We create data in our buying habits, our viewing habits and our seeping habits (checking my Fitbit now). And all of these data points inform our managers, the retailers we frequent and online advertisers.

I believe Moureaux has created a near perfect setting for us to consider the vastness of the human experience that we can expect to unfold in the next decade. And, as overwhelming as this may seem based on the pictures and video, I look at this installation and I think, “So what does the future hold for English majors?” And, I found an interesting answer from a very unlikely source, billionaire media mogul Mark Cuban.

Earlier in February Mr. Cuban gave an interview to Bloomberg News at the 2017 NBA All-Star Technology Summit in New Orleans. In this interview he had a rather grim prediction for the future of jobs in America. In short Cuban pointed to automation as the ultimate job killer as business owners continue to choose robots and computers over humans. When the interviewer asked Cuban what fields he would encourage young people to pursue, he didn’t recommend finance. He said,

Not finance. That’s the easiest thing — you just take the data have it spit out whatever you need. I personally think there’s going to be a greater demand in 10 years for liberal arts majors than there were for programming majors and maybe even engineering, because when the data is all being spit out for you, options are being spit out for you, you need a different perspective in order to have a different view of the data. And so having someone who is more of a freer thinker.

Think about that for a moment. Automation has essentially begun to replace even those who gather and crunch complex financial data sets. The processes have become so streamlined that in the near future the greatest demand is going to be for those who can look at the automated results and provide a unique analysis and perspective. In other words, those who can “see the forest” will be in higher demand than those who can only see the invidual tree.

English majors have a particular knack and training to look a large pieces of literature and develop an analysis that brings new meaning to a text.  If Cuban is right, and English majors become more highly sought after in the next 10 years, just as computer scientists were 10 years ago, then we needed to be thinking about how we teach and prepare English majors about five years ago. Because my colleagues in the Phyics Department have yet to develop a time machine, so they tell me, I am inspired to consider how we in the English Department should be changing to meet the growing need for “freer thinkers” and big data analysts.

We will need more faculty to “see the forest” if we are going to succeed.  But the good news is that I believe we are well positioned to get a bigger view of the landscape and adjust where needed.

 

 

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Reflections on a Day at the Beach

I went to Lake Worth Beach today in Florida. The weather was nearly perfect and the water was that shade of blue that hypnotizes in-lander tourists. You know what I mean. It’s that bluest blue that invites you to recline a little longer to take in the breeze, the clouds, the salt. That was how it was today. Perfect.

My children are at the right age for this kind of outing. My daughter in a sun dress, my son in shorts. I watched them laugh and play for the first time in the ocean. Well, this was the first time they played in the ocean without being carried out and dipped into the water for a photo opportunity. No, this was their first experience at the beach where they played their own games and explored the mosaic washed up pieces of shells and coral, smoothed by the rolling waters on their own.

We grabbed handfuls of shells, talked to a pelican perched on the pier, and drank Coke-a-Cola. I watched them run and laugh and throw handfuls of wet sand into the approaching waves. My son, who is always moving even when he should be sitting still, is almost cemented to the shore as the waves pass over his feet, burying him in sand a little bit more each time.

My daughter can hardly contain her excitement. She has been dreaming of this day since November. Now several months later she runs nonstop on the sand.  Then, she runs to the water and lets the cold wave wash over her legs.

When the parking meter runs out of time we wash the sand off of our feet near a public pavilion and walk slowly back to our car. We know we will be back sooner than we think, but we find ourselves completely content and fulfilled in this moment.

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30 Days with Billy Corgan

In 1994-95 I was a high school freshman at Maize High School, which was, at the time, situated about five miles outside of Wichita, KS. I had just moved to this high school after living in Powell, OH for four years. The school was familiar, in an odd sort of way. Contrary to popular belief, there really isn’t much difference between Central Ohio and Central Kansas. The cafeteria food tasted the same, all the kids dressed the same, and they told the similar stories. On the first day of school I quickly aligned myself with the people I had met in marching band. This was my tribe.  These were the people whom I would rely on in these early days at my new school.

My new crew was a mashup of characters who, first and foremost, took the music of marching band very seriously. They practiced for hours every single day and memorized their charts immediately. Outside of the music and marching, they were normal people who listened to a wide variety of music. I listened to a Smashing Pumpkins album for the first time among my new friends who were so familiar with his music that they almost put it on as background music.

I think I was immediately taken by the sound and soul of Billy Corgan’s music. It resonated with me for some reason. His songwriting matched with full dynamic range guitar sounds punched through my chest and ignited a fire. There was something universal and relational about Corgan’s music that I found refreshing. And I suppose it is this initial connection that urged me to stop and click on a series of videos posted to the Smashing Pumpkins YouTube channel last month. The three videos were the first three installments of a 30-day documentary series that Billy produced while traveling parts of “Flyover Country” (those significant areas outside of the media centers of New York and LA) and writing new music.

Something that you need to know is that while I have always enjoyed Smashing Pumpkins music I have never thought I was “cool” enough to admit it. That is to say, I never thought I completely understood it, like there was some higher level I was never able to tap into in 1994. And while I don’t know that I completely understand the mission Billy Corgan is on, it resonates with me. Though I live in Pennsylvania, I am from flyover country. The people and the story he was seeking in his long road trip across the American South collides every once in a  while with my story, my experiences and my values. The web documentary series was a light-hearted and, at times, tragic reminder that there is a wide, wide world beyond our immediate existence. Great inspiration exists out there; we just need to take time to find it.

Along his journey, Billy and his documentary crew captured some memorable moments that made me laugh and inspired me to think about my own work as an academic and teacher.

Laundry

In an early episode Billy stops to do laundry at a coin-operated laundromat. The facilities look decent, but you can tell the laundromat hasn’t been updated in decades. In fact, even the magazines are nearly 20 years old. While waiting for his clothes to cycle through Billy finds issues of Rolling Stone  and Guitar World in which he and his music are featured. The camera captures a weird sense of nostalgia that crosses Billy’s face as he reads a pull quote from a feature article written about Smashing Pumpkins. Billy reads the quote aloud and laughs, as if to say, “Yeah, that sounds like something I would have said in my 20s.”

Early success, on any scale, has a weird effect on people. I am not saying that I can compare my success as a teacher with that of a multi-platinum recording artist.  Only in my wildest dreams are these two things comparable.  Instead, I think this moment in the laundromat gave Mr. Corgan a neat perspective on who he has become as an artist. I recently read through an application packet that I had to pull together for the Kansas Horizon Award that I won 2004. I had just started my second year of classroom teaching and I was told that I had been nominated for this state level award for outstanding service in the first year of the teaching profession. The nomination packet required me to collect several letters of support and to write a few essays. As I read through my essays today I smirk at the absolute naive tone I see in my explanation of best teaching practices and my plans for further professional development. But isn’t that cool? I think I would be really heartbroken if, when reading those early career essays, I found myself in the same place. I am truly happy I have moved on to new experiences and insight.

Caves

In another episode Billy takes a cave tour, which is always an experience unlike anything one has ever done.  Picture it, you actually pay for the opportunity to walk two or three miles (or more) down into a cavern under the earth–from which you might not return if something remarkably tragic, like an earthquake, flood, mudslide, or some other natural disaster blocks the precious few exits. That said, Billy decides to take a cave tour of which he says, “Fun fact, last time I was in a cave I was with Courtney Love.” If that is indeed true, I’m afraid we need to know more Mr. Corgan.

Billy admits that he doesn’t like tours because when you take a tour you are expected to stay with a group of people and do exactly what you are told. And, throughout the episode, Billy makes these facial expressions to the camera that indicate he is not always having the time of his life on the tour.  There is a moment, however, in the episode when the tour guide does the big reveal, the large cavernous room that every cave tour guid saves for last, and it is in that moment that both the viewer, and Mr. Corgan, realize that the whole affair was worth it.  At the conclusion of the tour Corgan says something like, “I am not the same person that first went into the cave. I’ve emerged someone new.”

Hard Work

No matter what one does, success is the result of hard work, and a lot of luck. At one point throughout his songwriting tour, Billy meets a young musician who asks, “How do you take a band and its music to the next level?” The question was posed by an aspiring rocker who has some significant talent (he and Billy played a little together on camera). Billy’s advice was simple, and direct. His message was to work hard to routinely create good content that entertains and engages an audience. If the content is truly good, you will create a following.

The young musician said, “I feel like that is great advice for someone who already has a national following.”

Yes, while it is true it may be “easier” for someone like Billy Corgan of the Smashing Pumpkins to connect with a large audience through YouTube, this influence has come at the expense of a lot of hard work–which is what Billy was trying to convey to the young rocker. This is one of the better interchanges in the entire web series because here in front of this young musician is an icon he has looked up to nearly his entire life. That icon is giving sound advice and the yet-to-be-discovered musician nearly starts an argument because the advice isn’t what he expected.

Nothing in life, not even fame, comes easy.

Place

At one point while watching one of the longer episodes I scratched down this quote:

If you have faith, then you must also believe in place.

I don’t know if I even have the quote down right, but this idea sparked a number of interesting ideas that I think I need to chase further. I have always believed in the power of place. Perhaps it is just the way that I catalog memories, but whenever I visit a place from my past my brain cues up an endless loop of memories that are anchored to that place. I can remember finishing up my last class in my undergraduate degree at Friends University. Class ended early. On my walk back to my on-campus apartment I decided to meander a bit. I walked through every building on campus and let the flood of memories from four years rush over me. It was overwhelming, and yet quite healing too.

I have thought a lot lately about faith and place. In future posts I think I am going to be ready to share tributes that I have drafted about both my paternal grandmother and grandfather. Both have passed away recently, and if I am going to talk about faith, their story will certainly play a part. The where and how these things collide will, hopefully, become apparent as I piece together these new epiphanies that have surfaced since first considering how faith–being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you do not see–plays a part in the absolute significance of place and experience.

Thank you, Mr. Corgan. Your art and philosophy have once again caught me at a moment when I needed a shot in the arm.