Unsung Heroes and Mentorship in Higher Education.

(Maad, 2023)

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Unsung Heroes and Mentorship in Higher Education

The world is violent and mercurial—it will have its way with you. We are saved only by love—love for each other and the love that we pour into the art we feel compelled to share: being a parent; being a writer; being a painter; being a friend. We live in a perpetually burning building, and what we must save from it, all the time, is love. (Tennessee Williams, Interview with James Grissom)

Being a teacher. Being a mentor. Many people in the professional academy pour love and care into these pursuits. Even as the perceived societal value of philosophy diminishes, programs across the world get slashed, and the number of available jobs dwindles, they share their passion for the discipline with their students. They encourage, they motivate, and they provide feedback. They talk to their students about the “burning building” of higher education—and the world at large—and do their best to provide some sort of safe haven.

Against Professional Philosophy is principally (i) a venue for publishing real philosophy, and (ii) a critique of philosophy inside the professional academy. The sad reality is that many professional academic philosophers add fuel to the destructive flames enveloping graduate school programs. They don’t respond to emails, they provide very little feedback, or they simply withdraw from communicating for months at a time. They get so caught up in their own research that they resent having to interact with graduate students. They care more about publishing in prestigious journals than they do about providing substantive feedback to students in their classes. They give Ph.D. candidates advice about networking and “face time,” but offer few lessons about empathy, integrity, and kindness. In some cases, they offer up dismissive comments or even insults. In short, they bring aspects of the “violent and mercurial world” right into the graduate program. The Ph.D. advisor of one of my closest friends once told them that they wrote “like an ambitious undergraduate.” I was glad to see them switch topics and pick a new advisor.

But in this particular essay, I come to praise professional philosophy, not to bury it. Looking back on my graduate school days, it becomes clear that I received invaluable guidance from several key mentors. One of them guided me through the process of writing a Masters’ Thesis. Another provided significant assistance and feedback as I wrote my Ph.D. dissertation and continually made themselves available to provide feedback on my work even after I graduated; later, once we became co-authors, they taught me about the book writing process. Both of these people were distinguished members of my department and wrote me letters of recommendation when I applied for jobs.

But there was another mentor, someone whom some of my fellow students barely knew. After earning her Ph.D. at the University of Colorado, she took a position as an Instructor and also served as the undergraduate program coordinator. She played no direct role in my research, did not read any of my dissertation, and was not present at my defense. And yet she played an integral role in my graduate school education.

I don’t remember how I met Diane, only that I frequently found myself in her office to ask a question or seek advice. At one point I became a grader for her War and Morality class. Although I did not particularly enjoy grading, I needed the extra money. After many years of grading undergraduate student essays, I now understand even more deeply why she would welcome some help.

To grade students’ essays, I needed to be familiar with the texts they were reading. One of the assigned books, about U.S. military interventions during the Cold War, was particularly eye-opening. Diane and I discussed our concerns about the U.S. military actions in Iraq and Afghanistan after 9/11, as well as an upsurge in anti-Islamic sentiments. Economy inequality was growing and it was evident that many working class and middle class people were struggling. In my classes, I continued to learn about structural causes of oppression and the continuing impact of racism and misogyny. I remember asking Diane what I could do to try to make a positive contribution to the world. She suggested doing volunteer work and getting in contact with my political representatives. When I asked whether that would be enough, she told me that I should try to play my small part in making the world a little bit better, and that this is really all any of us can do. She also spoke with me about her experiences with meditation; hearing about how much it had added to her life inspired me to give it a try. Although it did not become engrained as habitual practice, the experience has stuck with me over the years. Whenever I do a short meditation with students during class, I am struck by how much more relaxed it makes me feel.

The general outlook that Diane adopted offered me a way of approaching life that I found both challenging and worthwhile. One time, as I waited for a bus to take me to the airport, she walked by and noticed my apparent stress and anxiety. When I told her that I was concerned that the bus was late and that I might miss my flight, she responded, “you either will make it or you won’t.”

As I wrapped up my dissertation and went on the job market, I became quite anxious and distressed about the future. She suggested that I talk to a therapist to sort through some of my negative feelings and offered a referral. Talking to the woman she recommended turned out to be quite helpful as I navigated that very difficult final year of graduate school. Although I have sought out therapists since then, none of them have ever been as good of a fit as Diane’s friend.

Diane did not publish extensively in journals or devote much energy to scholarly writing during the time I knew her. Instead, her focus was on pedagogy. She gave valuable advice about teaching and showed me how to create classes and course assignments connected to important real-world issues. But her role as my mentor went well beyond that. She helped me become a more thoughtful person and a more engaged citizen. She helped me recognize that I can try to channel my anger, fear, and sadness into political action. Perhaps most significantly, I observed her pour love and care into her teaching, her course assignments, and her relationships with students and colleagues.

The last time I saw Diane, she asked what I was reading, what I was teaching, and what I was thinking about these days. We talked about politics, about the sad state of the world, and about the changes we’d like to see. I heard about the numerous “letters to the editor” that she wrote under various pen names to her local newspaper. I expressed, as I often do, my sense that I’m not doing enough and that it all feels a bit overwhelming. But I think Diane was right: we all have our part to play in making our corner of the world, and the world at large, more just, more compassionate, and more kind.

As teachers and mentors, professional academic philosophers have so much more to offer their students than analytical skills, research tips, and feedback. Yes, they can share their passion for philosophy, and this is incredibly important. In addition, they can show their students how to empathize, how to care about the world and those who struggle, and how to become more engaged citizens. I am so grateful that Diane and my other mentors showed me that these were things worth valuing and pursuing. In addition to helping me become a better teacher, writer, and thinker, they have taught me valuable life lessons.

There are many unsung heroes in the world of professional academic philosophy, people like Diane who devote their time to teaching and mentoring students without much fanfare. The importance of this work often receives far less attention than someone’s citation count, yet it’s arguably one of the most meaningful ways that professional philosophers can contribute to society.

Diane passed away on December 2, 2024. She was an incredible teacher and mentor, and her influence has impacted me throughout my career trajectory. As I reflect on my time with her, I feel sad, I grieve my loss, and I hope she realized how important she was to me and many others. If Diane were here, she’d likely tell me that the upcoming years will be difficult, but that I have a role to play as a teacher, a mentor, and a concerned citizen. She’d tell me to keep teaching, keep writing, and keep thinking. The building is still burning, and we all need to do our part.

REFERENCE

(Maad, 2023). Maad, S. “Teachers The Unsung Heroes in Unthankful Societies.” Linked In. 17 March. Available online at URL = <https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/teachers-unsung-heroes-unthankful-societies-saad-maad>.

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