Oberlin Blogs

At Oberlin we make stuff, things that last. This place is a factory of ideas, knowledge, art, and music. As it turns out, our annual output is actually quite impressive—and we are committed to sharing it freely with the world.

I took a Comparative American Studies class last semester and all I got was this lousy t-shirt. Just kidding, it was pretty neat.

Also, a seagull.

"So, like, you're on vacation?"

In Oberlin, I think professors are kinda like celebrities. And these are the ones I go goo-goo eyed over.

In which a professor wrestles with time, flirts with an existential crisis, and wins the lottery.

The end of the academic year always brings a sense of loss, a kind of annual attack of empty-nest anxiety. We think about the graduating seniors and heave a sigh. "What are we going to do?" we ask each other. "We'll never get a bunch of kids as good as these ones..."

Getting in

I've never liked the term "discipline" as a way to refer to what I teach and write about. It's harsh, forbidding, army-like. I much prefer to tell people that I work in a particular field --maybe because as a kid I wanted to be a farmer.

It smells like baklava and/or cinnamon swirl glaze in my room which, although odd because there is no one in the kitchen to make either, reminds me of my pre-midterms diet and all the other things I miss about Oberlin.

Or, "This is a terrible idea!" (Inside: helpful faculty; I hate the GRE; Career Services rocks)

In high school, I did this thing called The Quote Book.