Maybe you can’t go home again and Thomas Wolfe had it right. But what you can do is revisit and regale.
My wife and I found that out recently on one of our infrequent sorties to the USF Tampa campus. We’re both USF grads and take pride in our affiliation. Plus, we both worked there; Laraine was a Spanish language adjunct, and I was the media relations manager.
And we’re both proud of USF’s accomplishments and bullish on its prospects. It’s now one of the largest universities in the country. It’s a Carnegie Foundation Top Tier research university that brings in more than $400 million in sponsored research grants annually. It’s in the top 10 in the world among all universities granted U.S. patents.
Whenever we set foot on campus, we take a step back in time for context. We’re reminded that this is not the USF that we experienced vocationally in the early 1990s. Let alone the “Sandspur U” and “Bottlecap U” of the ’60s when undergraduate pioneers endured industrial-park optics.
Today’s USF has all the higher-ed trimmings, including mature greenery, more than 30 residence halls and plenty of on-campus magnets–from Division 1 athletics to performing arts to cancer treatment. The modern Marshall Student Center looks nothing like the one I used to frequent, where the big draw was ping pong tables.
There was also a palpable vibe apparent in just walking around. We were there on a Wednesday, where a bustling mid-campus market looked like a UNESCO trailer. Music, aromas, dancing, arts and politics. Diversity manifested in sounds, smiles and animated conversations.
All the while we were in the company of our friend and Hyde Park neighbor, American History Professor John Belohlavek. John was our de facto guide. He maneuvered us through the market, pointed out an ad hoc beach creatively carved out between academic buildings and gave us a quick look inside the book store, which at first glance seemed all Rocky the Bull paean and no books. As it turned out, the books are on the second floor and in the basement–but none in the colorful, paraphernalia-dominant main floor.
Then we went to class.
Candidly, we didn’t know what to expect–even from this nattily-attired, wry-humored, distinguished professor/author who has been at “Harvard on Hillsborough” for nearly 45 years. This is, after all, 2015 and who knew how well AMH 3160, “The Age of Jackson,” would go over with contemporary students in the “Age of Information Technology.”
Well, this was a device-free environment. Not by happenstance, but by edict. Twelve young men, three young women and three auditing seniors. One undergrad sported a Gators sweatshirt.
First came housekeeping. John hinted at likely topics of essay questions in the following week’s mid-term exam and reminded the class to “balance your time.” They collectively nodded. I felt glad my mid-term days were, well, history.
For the next hour or so, we were captivated. John doesn’t so much lecture as he guides, underscores and anecdotally informs. Politicians “work a house.” The best teachers enlighten it. No device would have topped this rendering of “The Utopian Alternative” and manifestations of the mid-19th century reform movement.
The students responded. It was obvious they liked their instructor. They were attentive; I checked. They asked good questions. You could sense who might be a history major.
But the professor wasn’t just professing to the converted. Analogies and anecdotes dotted the presentation. It was history, but it was also human nature. There’s always a link. It’s always relevant with the right chronicler.
I asked John what it was like teaching today’s 20-somethings.
“Students read far less, expect to read far less and rely on visual and audio technology far more than a generation ago,” he said. “They are brighter in many ways, but don’t believe they have to remember very much since all knowledge is just a smart phone away.
“Teaching American history has changed since many students are passing AP exams to satisfy college requirements and credits, and they don’t appear in our classes,” he explained. “Those who do are, again, quite bright, but have a limited background in the subject matter in part because Florida emphasizes testing over subject matter content at the high school level. We still have many fine, dedicated students in history courses, just not as many as a generation ago.”
For further context I asked St. Petersburg attorney Kevin Doty, who had Dr. Belohlavek as an academic adviser and history professor at USF in the mid-’70s, what he was like back in the day.
“His grasp of subject matter and his enthusiasm allowed students to travel in time to the events and era of study,” recalled Doty. “Students fortunate enough to find themselves taking one of his courses are fortunate indeed.”
Including the one in the Gators sweatshirt.