1.05.2005
guide on the side
National Public Radio has been doing an occasional series on the best college classes in America. Today's class was Far Side Entomology, a look at the world of bugs using the cartoons of Gary Larson as a starting point. The class is not run like a lecture, but as a collective, in which teams of two students each get up to teach the rest of the seminar a little something that they have researched, all while using the Far Side as ubiquitously as my old middle schoolers used to use clip art. Professor Michael Burgett said something today though that really reasonated with my own teaching philosophy. His goal was not to be the "sage on the stage", lecturing down at students from a dais at the head of a room, but as "the guide on the side", prodding students toward the intended outcome, but not leading them there through his own words. I wish that I could have had that advice before I went into teaching: my classes must have been kind of dull: chalk and talk for 44 minutes. Of course, there was banter, and class participation, and the occasional powerpoint or student presentation, but overwhelmingly, I was the sage on the stage, and I probably could have been more innovative in my teaching.
The statement touched me for another reason today: my own guide on the side is leaving. This statement, of course, merits some background. When I was 17 and about to graduate high school, my Mom took me to Saks Fifth Avenue in downtown Boston to buy a suit. I'd never owned a suit, and my Mom had, to my knowledge, never really gone to buy one. And we sought out some help from a very helpful and stylishly dressed gentleman who pointed me in the direction of a Hugo Boss navy blue suit, fixed me up with a shirt, some ties, and then sent us on our way. Everything, save the tie, was on sale at huge discount. Mom and I were in awe. We would return several more times over the course of college as I required suits for the Nassoons or for various occasions. When I started teaching, I'd ask Philip for advice on what to wear in the classroom, and each trip home to Boston was sure to include at least a small stop at Saks to say hello. It seems pretentious to announce to the world that every suit that I own is from Saks. And it is pretentious, until you realize that Philip only steered me toward suits that were being sold at severe discount, usually around 50% to 70% off. So today I got a suit for about 1/3 of what it should have cost: not too shabby. Philip, unfortunately, is moving to Tampa, Florida to start up a Sports Bar & Grill called Sidelines. I wish him and his family the best of luck: his wife and daughter will stay up in Boston for one more year for the daughter to finish High School. I will truly miss him: he would always give me tidbits of advice regarding clothes: which buttons to button, which belts to wear, what shirt, what tie, what suit, etc. He never steered me wrong, and in the past seven years, he's made me look better, dress sharper, and has been one of the incentives for losing all of this weight. I'm really going to miss him. But if anyone's ever down in the Tampa region starting in mid-February, check out Sidelines. And get the most expensive thing on the menu. Philip deserves it.
The statement touched me for another reason today: my own guide on the side is leaving. This statement, of course, merits some background. When I was 17 and about to graduate high school, my Mom took me to Saks Fifth Avenue in downtown Boston to buy a suit. I'd never owned a suit, and my Mom had, to my knowledge, never really gone to buy one. And we sought out some help from a very helpful and stylishly dressed gentleman who pointed me in the direction of a Hugo Boss navy blue suit, fixed me up with a shirt, some ties, and then sent us on our way. Everything, save the tie, was on sale at huge discount. Mom and I were in awe. We would return several more times over the course of college as I required suits for the Nassoons or for various occasions. When I started teaching, I'd ask Philip for advice on what to wear in the classroom, and each trip home to Boston was sure to include at least a small stop at Saks to say hello. It seems pretentious to announce to the world that every suit that I own is from Saks. And it is pretentious, until you realize that Philip only steered me toward suits that were being sold at severe discount, usually around 50% to 70% off. So today I got a suit for about 1/3 of what it should have cost: not too shabby. Philip, unfortunately, is moving to Tampa, Florida to start up a Sports Bar & Grill called Sidelines. I wish him and his family the best of luck: his wife and daughter will stay up in Boston for one more year for the daughter to finish High School. I will truly miss him: he would always give me tidbits of advice regarding clothes: which buttons to button, which belts to wear, what shirt, what tie, what suit, etc. He never steered me wrong, and in the past seven years, he's made me look better, dress sharper, and has been one of the incentives for losing all of this weight. I'm really going to miss him. But if anyone's ever down in the Tampa region starting in mid-February, check out Sidelines. And get the most expensive thing on the menu. Philip deserves it.
