Please take a moment to click on this link marking the retirement of Dr. Ken Jurkiewicz, Director of Film Studies at Central Michigan University:
http://www.cm-life.com/article/2018/04/jurkiewicz-q-a
Over forty years at CMU for Dr. Ken teaching film is quite an accomplishment, and one that's most likely not to be repeated any time soon. (Both the "40+ years" and the "teaching film" parts.) I had Dr. Ken for a sci-fi film class in my Masters of Humanities program in 2004, and while I dug it -- he was knowledgeable and enthusiastic, even if his presentation focal point was literally about twelve inches above all our heads -- I could tell pretty quickly that the rest of my student cohort wasn't as engaged. Sadly, that's pretty typical for film classes in a STEM and streaming world, especially in my neck of the woods (or my nape of the way, for you film buffs).
I got my Masters in Humanities degree largely so I could teach film classes at NCMC, but over the course of my twenty (!) years at NCMC, we've had eroding enrollments in my film classes, and courses in the Humanities in general. (Of course, this could be part of an overall eroding interest in me as a professor, but that's another post.) Years ago, I was able to run a class on Stanley Kubrick films for three different semesters. Now, I only pulled eight students into a Film & Literature class this past semester -- mind you, a General Education course that transfers to nearly every university and college -- and of those eight students, only five have a chance of actually passing. And the Mental Illness in Film class on the books for the fall semester has exactly zero students enrolled, so that's unlikely to run, barring a sudden and miraculous windfall of interested and flush-with-cash humans.
It's always disheartening when one of your passions isn't shared by a larger number of people, especially when most of your life has been preparing to impart those passions onto others. I've always viewed the cultural artifacts of the Humanities as Trojan horses for the presentation and promotion of empathy both cognitive and emotional; as such, studying the Humanities should be valuable in shaping how we think and feel about ourselves, other people, and the world at large. If we don't value that body of knowledge -- and the STEM acronym and curricula doesn't leave much room for Humanities, does it? -- then we lose something important in the interpersonal and intrapersonal domains of human experience.
When I think of how these artifacts have impacted my life, two robust examples immediately pop out of my cluttered and ever-growing memories. The 1988 song "Black Steel In The Hour Of Chaos" by Public Enemy allows me to feel empathy for African-American males caught in the prison-industrial complex of the United States. The 2008 film Wendy and Lucy provides a window into the fragility of Americans caught in the negative feedback loop of lower socioeconomic status, where just one slip triggers a domino effect of devastation and dehumanization. And through the power of these cultural artifacts, for a moment I can think and feel like an African-American male or a low SES white young female -- although I am neither -- and hopefully use my privilege to create future opportunities for people with those identities and in those situations.
I don't believe that I could even start to lay the foundation for those opportunities had I not been exposed to the panoply of human experiences that the Humanities captures, documents, and promotes. When we lose people like Dr. Ken, and when we design general education curricula that don't place weight on the Humanities, we lose gatekeepers and pathways to empathy and understanding, and we are a poorer society both cognitively and emotionally because of it. I'm glad that Dr. Ken is retiring to enrich the lives of his grandkids -- and maybe he could give Image comics like Saga and Southern Bastards and Sex Criminals and Paper Girls a try, 'cause DC sucks -- but I also see it as an end of an era, a sphere of influence getting smaller and smaller, like a old Technicolor movie watched on an iPhone. It's still there, but it's diminished, even as we fade to black.
http://www.cm-life.com/article/2018/04/jurkiewicz-q-a
Over forty years at CMU for Dr. Ken teaching film is quite an accomplishment, and one that's most likely not to be repeated any time soon. (Both the "40+ years" and the "teaching film" parts.) I had Dr. Ken for a sci-fi film class in my Masters of Humanities program in 2004, and while I dug it -- he was knowledgeable and enthusiastic, even if his presentation focal point was literally about twelve inches above all our heads -- I could tell pretty quickly that the rest of my student cohort wasn't as engaged. Sadly, that's pretty typical for film classes in a STEM and streaming world, especially in my neck of the woods (or my nape of the way, for you film buffs).
I got my Masters in Humanities degree largely so I could teach film classes at NCMC, but over the course of my twenty (!) years at NCMC, we've had eroding enrollments in my film classes, and courses in the Humanities in general. (Of course, this could be part of an overall eroding interest in me as a professor, but that's another post.) Years ago, I was able to run a class on Stanley Kubrick films for three different semesters. Now, I only pulled eight students into a Film & Literature class this past semester -- mind you, a General Education course that transfers to nearly every university and college -- and of those eight students, only five have a chance of actually passing. And the Mental Illness in Film class on the books for the fall semester has exactly zero students enrolled, so that's unlikely to run, barring a sudden and miraculous windfall of interested and flush-with-cash humans.
It's always disheartening when one of your passions isn't shared by a larger number of people, especially when most of your life has been preparing to impart those passions onto others. I've always viewed the cultural artifacts of the Humanities as Trojan horses for the presentation and promotion of empathy both cognitive and emotional; as such, studying the Humanities should be valuable in shaping how we think and feel about ourselves, other people, and the world at large. If we don't value that body of knowledge -- and the STEM acronym and curricula doesn't leave much room for Humanities, does it? -- then we lose something important in the interpersonal and intrapersonal domains of human experience.
When I think of how these artifacts have impacted my life, two robust examples immediately pop out of my cluttered and ever-growing memories. The 1988 song "Black Steel In The Hour Of Chaos" by Public Enemy allows me to feel empathy for African-American males caught in the prison-industrial complex of the United States. The 2008 film Wendy and Lucy provides a window into the fragility of Americans caught in the negative feedback loop of lower socioeconomic status, where just one slip triggers a domino effect of devastation and dehumanization. And through the power of these cultural artifacts, for a moment I can think and feel like an African-American male or a low SES white young female -- although I am neither -- and hopefully use my privilege to create future opportunities for people with those identities and in those situations.
I don't believe that I could even start to lay the foundation for those opportunities had I not been exposed to the panoply of human experiences that the Humanities captures, documents, and promotes. When we lose people like Dr. Ken, and when we design general education curricula that don't place weight on the Humanities, we lose gatekeepers and pathways to empathy and understanding, and we are a poorer society both cognitively and emotionally because of it. I'm glad that Dr. Ken is retiring to enrich the lives of his grandkids -- and maybe he could give Image comics like Saga and Southern Bastards and Sex Criminals and Paper Girls a try, 'cause DC sucks -- but I also see it as an end of an era, a sphere of influence getting smaller and smaller, like a old Technicolor movie watched on an iPhone. It's still there, but it's diminished, even as we fade to black.
Comments
Post a Comment