Washington College Alumni Magazine Summer 2012 : Cover2
GHOSTS OF TEACHERS PAST AND FUTURE I T ’ S A MIRACLE that I ever became a writer. Even though I was a vora-cious reader, my spelling was atrocious. I attribute that, in part, to growing up in a place with a distinctive dia-lect. Woodsmoke wafted from “chimleys,” watermen “drudged for arsters” and, after working in the garden, folks “warshed up at the kitchen zink.” My mother cringed and sent me away—to summer programs, to museums and concerts, to the 1964 World’s Fair in New York and, eventually, to college, so I would see something of the world beyond Rock Hall and come to appreciate that color-ful patois from a distance. It helped that one of my school-teachers was the late Helen Wagner ’30. Miss Helen was legendary for her fine speaking voice and her grammar lessons. I never picked up the water-man’s drawl, but I didn’t win the spelling bee either. In high school, I fancied myself a poet. I took a class at Washington College in my senior year, studying poetry with Bennett Lamond. Hand-ing back a response paper with a big red “C,” Professor Lamond gave me my first inkling of my poor skills as a writer and scholar. I’ll never forget my response to his query about Dorothy Parker. In the days before Google, I rode my bike to a neighbor’s home whose walls were lined with books. He was a scientist and a gardener. We finally found a reference to Dorothy Parker— a deep red and fragrant hybrid tea rose. What eluded us both was Dorothy Parker’s status as an American writer, the author of “One Perfect Rose.” When I went off to college my shortcomings became even more apparent. Despite the futuristic exhibitions at the World’s Fair I knew little of the world, which made my course-work in Western Civilization a real eye-opener. Worse, when I turned in my blue books, they were riddled with grammati-cal errors, despite Miss Helen’s best attempts. Del Palmer, my English professor, gave me the bad news. “If you want to be a writer you need to start pay-ing attention. Pay attention to the mechanics of writing. Pay attention to other writers. And pay attention to the details. I want specifics.” He taught me to read more closely, to think more critically, to ask the right questions. He encouraged me to pursue an internship at the local paper and do the work required to become a decent writer. Every student at Wash-ington College has a Del Palmer—a professor who fans the sparks of promise and aspiration into comprehension and mastery. Luckily for the professors, today’s students are brighter and worldlier than I was at 18, and the opportuni-ties outside the classroom are even greater. To see a student grow in intellect, skill and confidence through a series of hands-on learning experiences is a professor’s greatest reward. Here in Chestertown, pro-fessors work their miracles with young people every day. In this issue you’ll meet just a few of them: professors like Garry Clarke, whose students learned to appreciate opera and perform the music of the Renaissance; Aaron Amick and his colleagues, who are training the next generation of scientists and health profes-sionals; Andrew Oros, who convinced his entire class to travel to Japan; and Rich Gil-lin, whose summer course in English literature and land-scape at Kiplin Hall has been called “utterly transformative.” Nothing gives a professor more satisfaction than seeing a student’s “aha” moment. What students appreciate most about their professors, I suspect, is their uncanny ability to look at them and see the future, imagining where they can go from here. — MCL
Publication List
Using a screen reader? Click Here