Ateliers philosophiques et artistiques

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On the website of the Sainte Pulchérie Fransız Lisesi, there is a lovely article about my two weeks of teaching at the school. Besides describing my classes, it mentions some of the school events during my stay, some student honors and accomplishments (including publication in CONTRARIWISE), and more. My gratitude goes to everyone at the school–Dr. Nimet Küçük, M. Alexandre Abellan, students, teachers, and staff–and to everyone involved with CONTRARIWISE.

“And so it begins, again.”

contrariwise meeting

The above title quotes the “Five Word” (as opposed to last year’s “Four Word”) of the fourth issue of CONTRARIWISE. You can see all four issues side by side on the table. Today I went in to meet with the current and future editors-in-chief (two current, two future) and the faculty advisor–to discuss carrying CONTRARIWISE into the future. The new editors seemed eager to take on their new roles; the outgoing two, Kelly and Alan (who graduate in just over a week), regaled them with good advice.

It is not easy to give up the journal. I handed it over a year ago and stayed out of the production except when someone had a question for me or when I had a specific role to play (such as facilitating an Istanbul/NYC Skype conversation) or contributing to today’s meeting. All the same, I awaited the fourth issue eagerly and often opened up the earlier ones for browsing and reading. I remembered meetings, hours of editing and layout, deliberations, dilemmas, jokes, mishaps, sudden ideas, and uproarious yet serious celebrations.

But in giving it up, each person (the editors-in-chief or I) gave something to it. Others could now take charge of it and carry it onward, and the journal could strengthen its spine. No one left it abruptly; each person gave thought to its editorship and future. Those who took it over–editors and faculty advisor–did a terrific job. At this rate, there will be a fifth issue in 2018, a sixth issue in 2019, and onward, into the unknown. Or maybe the unknown will come first; who knows.

So as far as lettings-go go, this one went pretty well.

Istanbul Memories in Advance

IMG_3053When I step outside of the school, this is the first street I see. Before I’ve walked a block, I see pictures of kebabs on restaurant walls; I hear an approaching motorcycle or a clattering wooden cart. Café tables and chairs fill the sidewalks. By 11:00 a.m., people are sitting outside, observing the day, drinking tea, talking with each other. Cats amble along, picking up food and affection along the way.

My time at the Sainte Pulchérie Lisesi is passing quickly; tomorrow I teach my last class. Today we held a long-anticipated Skype conference with the editors-in-chief of CONTRARIWISE. Selin, Zeynep, and Pinar participated on this end; Kelly, Alan, and (Professor) Kim Terranova on the other. (Nimet and I listened and took pictures; at one point I lifted up the laptop to show Kelly and Alan the view through the window.)

I have not seen my favorite musicians again, but I will keep on looking. I heard many other musicians, including this wonderful Syrian group playing “Habibi Nour el Ayn.” (Someone else posted another lovely video of the same group and song.)

This blog conveys only a fraction of these two weeks; I do not want to sum them up, so I will end here.

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CONTRARIWISE in Istanbul

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Yesterday, at the Sainte Pulchérie Lisesi, there was an eleventh-grade award ceremony in commemoration of Atatürk’s birthday. For part of the philosophy award, I presented copies of CONTRARIWISE (a journal of philosophy by students of Columbia Secondary School in New York City) to Selin Tunalı, whose essay “What Is a Human Being?” won honorable mention in the journal’s international contest.

More photos of this ceremony will soon appear on the CONTRARIWISE website. You can purchase a copy of the fourth issue through the website or at the journal’s upcoming celebration at Book Culture at 3 p.m. on Saturday, May 27. I will still be out of the country, but CONTRARIWISE will be vivid in my thoughts.

For three consecutive years, a student from the Sainte Pulchérie Lisesi has won an award in the CONTRARIWISE International Contest. The past winners are İdil Ertem (for her poem “The Organization of Manti”) and Beliz Ürkmez (for her piece “Birth and Death”).

This year the editors-in-chief, editorial board, and Professor Terranova produced CONTRARIWISE without me; I left Columbia Secondary School at the end of June 2016 to write my second book. It is thanks to CONTRARIWISE that I am in Istanbul right now; through the international contest (created by the founding editors-in-chief), I began corresponding with Dr. Nimet Küçük, the philosophy teacher at Sainte Pulchérie. We then met twice in person in NYC. She and the school’s director, M. Abellan, invited me to the school for a short-term teaching residency; when I saw that it would be possible this spring, we began planning.

I am glad to have another week here! The visit has been beautiful and enlightening; I have been teaching, visiting classes, attending school events, and exploring Istanbul, all with the help and support of Nimet, other teachers, and the director. I am moved by their hospitality and impressed with what I have seen of the school. It has a compelling combination of formality and spirit, discipline and initiative, and learning and questioning. I have attended a math class on vectors, a music class on Debussy, and a French class where students were working on projects. I have taught two lessons so far (to four sections comprising the entire eleventh grade) and have seen the students’ great attention and participation.

The school hosts a theatre series performed by professional actors; this evening I will see Occident by Rémi De Vos, and tomorrow Yılın En İyi Kadın Oyuncusu (“The Best Actress of the Year”) by Seyyar Sahne.

This second photo (which I took on my first day here) shows a side alley and cat; I do not know whether I will find them again. Everywhere there are hilly, winding streets and alleys, each one different from the others. Even people who have lived here all their lives discover new places on their familiar walks. I look forward to many more walks over the coming week.

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An Update-Ish Sort of Post

I try not to make this blog too update-y, but once in a while an update or two is in order. Here are a few bundled together in one post.

The other day I bit the bullet and set up a Facebook author page. One disagreeable thing about Facebook is that it’s set up for people to judge you by how many “likes” you have. Oh, sure, now they’ve added various emoticons, so that you can personalize your “liking.” But the effect is the same. It’s one big jostle for popularity. But I wanted a place for updates, separate from the blog. So there you have it, likes or no likes. (The three likes I did receive are worth thousands as far as I am concerned.)

Next, I have announced this already (and deleted the former announcement): my TEDx talk “Take Away the Takeaway” is up on YouTube. I have been getting great responses by email. Ironically, one of the first commenters on YouTube wrote (within an hour or so of the posting), “Not many views for a 6 million subscriber channel…” Someone pointed out that it had just been posted, and he replied, “obviously, but still after 3+ hours only 100 views.” Is this supposed to pass for discourse? What irks me is not what he said–which was just silly–but the structure that sets people up to think and speak that way.

As a teacher, I continually emphasized the difference between popularity and quality. I encouraged students to consider views on their own merits, to withhold snap judgments about a text, and to hear each other out. But much of our culture pushes in the opposite direction.

in-the-heightsWait–this was supposed to be an update-ish post. My other two updates have to do with my former school. On February 4 and 5, a huge cast at Columbia Secondary School will be performing In the Heights. Year after year, the performances have been beautiful and rousing; this one promises to stand on its own. Here’s the show synopsis from the Rodgers and Hammerstein website:

IN THE HEIGHTS tells the universal story of a vibrant community in New York’s Washington Heights neighborhood – a place where the coffee from the corner bodega is light and sweet, the windows are always open and the breeze carries the rhythm of three generations of music. It’s a community on the brink of change, full of hopes, dreams and pressures, where the biggest struggles can be deciding which traditions you take with you, and which ones you leave behind. IN THE HEIGHTS is the winner of the 2008 Tony Awards for Best Musical, Best Score, Best Choreography and Best Orchestrations.

Finally, the fourth issue of CONTRARIWISE is now in production and will appear this spring! The editors have done a superb job of taking over all the responsibilities, shaping the fourth issue, and seeing the journal into the future. I have been uninvolved, except to answer a question once in a great while,  but have been eagerly awaiting the new volume.

Speaking of Columbia Secondary School, I will be returning in early March (and possibly a second time) to lead a philosophy roundtable. More on that as the date approaches. For now, that’s it for the updates.

Thank You, USPS Workers

post-officePostal workers get a terrible rap. One hears of employees “going postal,” or bins of mail getting dumped, or other outrageous things. Stories of USPS courtesy, helpfulness, and patience don’t get big press. I wish they did.

Over the years, I have gone to the post office hundreds of times–with letters, packages, overseas mailings, delivery slips, and more. From the post office on W. 125th St. (10027), for three consecutive years, I mailed copies of CONTRARIWISE to Italy, Turkey, England, China, and numerous U.S. locations. If I were on the other end of the plexiglass barrier, I would have lost patience with myself.

The USPS staff courteously helped me through the process. When I came with piles of packages, they took the time to process each one correctly. In addition, they explained my options, gave me good advice, and wished me a good day afterward. I could tell that it mattered to them to see the mail through.

In holiday-ish times of year (particularly December), I come to the post office in a whirlwind, only because I haven’t managed to send my packages earlier. Time and again, including today, the staff have taken my packages in hand and seen them calmly onward.

Regular mail is nowhere near obsolete; the long lines at the post offices attest to this. People still need and want to send tangible letters, packages, and documents. The workers understand this and do all they can to help. Not only that, but they throw some cheer into the mix. For this I lift a hearty thanks.

Image credit: Foursquare.

The CONTRARIWISE Jousting Tournament (and Other Memories)

This poster stands out as one of my favorite CONTRARIWISE memories of 2014.jousting miniature The students will tell the full story at some point. It has to do with a syllogism treasure hunt.

Another favorite memory is of the morning the books arrived. Still another is of the journal’s first review. Then came our spectacular celebration in May, and then the students’ first interview.

But those are the obvious things. I also think back on the reading, editing, announcements, deliberation, decisions, and planning; the jokes, laughter, and pizza; and all the other work behind the scenes. (The jokes and laughter are part of the work; without them, CONTRARIWISE would not be what it is.)

Looking ahead, I can’t wait to see which pieces the editors-in-chief select as winners of the International Contest.

Final edits, layout, and proofreading are underway; the journal should go to press by the end of January, and we should have the books by late February or early March!

“The Remedy Is the Poem Itself”

First, a happy 2015 to everyone! This promises to be a glorious year for CONTRARIWISE. It is also the year of the Class of 2015. At my school, many members of this class have been involved with CONTRARIWISE, philosophy roundtables, and honors projects in philosophy, so I will be both sad and immensely proud to see them move on. Some have already been admitted to colleges (Columbia, MIT, Johns Hopkins, Smith, SUNY Binghamton, and elsewhere); others have a few months of waiting in store. Those months will go by quickly, though, and CONTRARIWISE will come out in the meantime!

The year has also started out with great sadness; one of my former students lives in Shanghai, so when I read the news of the stampede, it was not remote as such news often can be. (I trust that she is unharmed—but she must have been affected in any case.)

I am returning today to an idea from yesterday: that the “successful” teacher is one who looks inward. What bothers me is not the idea of looking inward, but rather the subordination of this to some kind of success on the job. In other words, inner life should not and cannot be mandated, and those who live it must do so on their own terms. It certainly may take place on the job and may have benefits for the job—but ultimately it is not for the job. Soul-searching as a job requirement will be stultified. To have meaning, it must be at liberty to go beyond others’ demands. It will find more of a home in poetry than in any teacher manual (since poetry by nature goes beyond others’ expectations).

When listening to a recorded lecture this morning, I was introduced to a passage from The Principles of Art by Robin George Collingwood:

The artist must prophesy not in the sense that he foretells things to come, but in the sense that he tells his audience, at risk of their displeasure, the secrets of their own hearts. His business as an artist is to speak out, to make a clean breast. But what he has to utter is not, as the individualistic theory of art would have us think, his own secrets. As spokesman of his community, the secrets he must utter are theirs. The reason why they need them is that no community knows its own heart; and by failing in this knowledge a community altogether deceives itself on the one subject concerning which ignorance means death. For the evils which come from that ignorance the poet as prophet suggests no remedy, because he has already given one. The remedy is the poem itself. Art is the community’s medicine for the worst disease of mind, the corruption of consciousness.

There is a lot to interpret in this passage, but I will focus on these two statements: “no community knows its own heart” and “the remedy is the poem itself.” Why does no community know its own heart? Well, it is virtually impossible to have heart as a group. Yes, there are approximations, but they are often galvanized by one person’s action—in this case, a poem. Why is the poem the remedy? It’s not that it makes us feel better. Rather, it offers full life and a release from compromises, lies, half-measures, and what Collingwood calls “the corruption of consciousness.”

To prophesy,  then, is to tell not the future, but the present; to tell it as no one else is telling it. Wordsworth’s “The Idiot Boy” (which I read after being moved by David Bromwich’s description in Moral Imagination) has prophetic momentum; we go with Betty on a journey that we ourselves take but do not always recognize. It is the story of a mother searching high and low for her “idiot boy,” whom she has sent off in the night for medicine for their neighbor, who is very sick. Her hope and worry and near-despair are so great that even nature seems to come to a stop (except for the owls):

She listens, but she cannot hear
The foot of horse, the voice of man;
The streams with softest sound are flowing,
The grass you almost hear it growing,
You hear it now, if e’er you can.

The owlets through the long blue night
Are shouting to each other still:
Fond lovers! yet not quite hob nob,
They lengthen out the tremulous sob,
That echoes far from hill to hill.

It would be difficult to read this poem without some soul-searching (where the soul itself goes searching). But this is not the kind that bends to any job. It goes beyond employment. A job, no matter how important or meaningful, must not be confused with a life. No book on pedagogy comes close to “the tremulous sob, / That echoes far from hill to hill.” Unless Wordsworth is included in the curriculum, few will see the poem as relevant to anything at school. But in a sense it is relevant to everything: it is a poem of life and death, sanity and insanity, health and illness, childhood and adulthood, humans and nature—all of this in chillingly beautiful verse. It is worth living beyond the job, even for this poem alone.

CONTRARIWISE and the Humanities

CONTRARIWISE appears in a video by the Dallas Institute of Humanities and Culture! The video–about the future of the humanities–features interviews with three Hiett Prize winners: Mark Oppenheimer, James E. McWilliams, and myself. A lovely segment is devoted to CONTRARIWISE. There are also some glimpses of the Summer Institute in action. Thanks to the Dallas Institute and the producer, Judy Kelly, and congratulations to all involved!

CONTRARIWISE Contests Galore

itsmyowninventionThroughout my teaching experience, there have been many surprises, many sources of wonder, but nothing quite like CONTRARIWISE, my students’ philosophy journal. It arose out of an assignment about Plato a year ago; the first issue, which came out in February, received a great review and many appreciative comments from readers. We had a glorious celebration in May; a week later, four students took part in an interview with Mark Balawender of PLATO. (If you aren’t sure what the fuss is all about, see the samples on the website.) But that was only the beginning. Now my students have announced an international contest and two national contests, as well as an open call.

Here is the international contest:

Your favorite cultural dish* is now its own nation. Who/what is its leader? Its citizens? What does each ingredient do for a living? You may refer to the ingredients, cooking utensils, eating utensils, human participants, or other aspects of the food’s preparation and consumption. Write about a philosophical problem this nation experiences—”anything from existential angst due to being eaten, to “okra should never have been chosen as ‘secretary of state.'” This can be a story, an essay, an epic poem written in the style of Beowulf, words set to a popular song (bonus points if it’s a song we don’t know and have to look up, and it becomes one of our favorite songs of all time), or anything, really.

Secondary school students are lucky to have these contests! When I bring up the international contest with adults, I often get the reaction: “What would I do with that?” followed by days of conversation about fondue, various pastas, etc., and what they could be as nations. (A recent comment: “We’re still thinking about the eggplant.”) Alas, we adults may muse to our hearts’ content but may not enter. That is just as well; I wrote a piece about the realm of flan, was proud of it at first, but then realized how contained it was and how much more possibility the contest held.

But that isn’t all. Here’s the first of the national contests:

Write a piece about how mathematics and philosophy are related. It could be a theorem with a variety of proofs, a comparison of a philosophical and a mathematical problem, a mathematical solution to an ethical issue such as adoption, or a poem about how to treat your x. You may use any format you wish, including pictures, and you may invoke higher dimensions.

Here is the second:

You are a knight or samurai (who strictly adheres to your society’s honor code) during the fall of feudalism in your nation. This time period can be any time after your chosen government begins to stop following the codes of chivalry or bushido. In 3,000 or fewer words, write a piece critiquing the government and explaining how you feel and what should be done about it. This could be in the form of a letter to be sent to your government, a poem to be nailed on the gates of a church…the format can be as creative as the piece itself. Just let us know what you intend the knight to do with his work at the top of your first page. Be sure to research your chosen nation!

The words of Khadijah McCarthy, a CONTRARIWISE contributor who participated in the PLATO interview, seem especially apt here:

There has to be a degree of eccentricity to the questions that we ask because we are not looking for your basic responses. We need philosophers who can transgress those boundaries and get people to come in and say I want to take a philosophy class and request it in schools around the world and around the nation. We do our best to really make people think. And the questions that they asked me, and I when I looked at them at face value, I thought, “I really don’t know how I am going to answer this.” … I think the best questions are the ones where you don’t know how you’re going to answer them. You’re going to have to formulate them and test them. So pretty much you’re a scientist, a philosopher…everything is wrapped up in one.

I can’t wait to see what comes in.

 

Image: Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass, illus. John Tenniel, chapter 8, “It’s My Own Invention.”