Oscar had it right…

Oscar Hammerstein could write lyrics in a very overripe style—witness his extravagant words, You are the promised kiss of springtime/That makes the lonely winter seem long. Now, as someone who is not unfamiliar with the charge of “overripe,” it doesn’t really bother me (unlike how this “bothers” Stephen Sondheim) much, and I am fond of other overripe lyrics like you find in “You’ll Never Walk Alone” (Graduation song anyone of the last 68 years??). But I have had another Oscar lyric going ‘round my head in the last couple of weeks that is not overripe, and very much right on the money.


Picture it—Anna Leonowens is in 19th century Siam—and to her students she sings,
“It's a very ancient saying,
But a true and honest thought,
That if you become a teacher,
By your pupils you'll be taught.”

This is the time of year when my two courses (Art History and History of the 20th Century) have come to an end and my students have taken over the teaching, offering an entire class of a topic as in the 20th class, or a self-curated art exhibition presentation in Art History. This is when I get to be taught by my students. And it’s a kick.

But even more wonderful than that annual parade of neophyte teachers, I had a guest in Jordan for nearly two weeks, a former student named Adam, he of the famed and wondrous Class of 2000, current PhD student, and a former member of three courses of mine at Hackley. I taught Adam sophomore, junior and senior years, and I remember, I think it was in his junior when I saw him around campus I would shout out, “Vive Le Kahn!” as a way to say hello. Adam is not terribly French, and yes, one could say the nickname/greeting was a little overripe, but again, pretty much on the money!

Anyway, Adam had been trying to visit me in Jordan for a couple of years, but I often had a play going on when he could come, and then that of course would not make for a very interesting visit for someone since they would only see me in the classroom and then working on a play, and that would be about it. This year, there was no play in the cards—someone else needed to postpone an event and that ate into my rehearsal time—oh well, c’est la vie.

So when Adam asked, I said, “Sure, just know there is a lot of time in school!” Adam also asked if he could teach a class…he was coming at the right time of year!

He combined a bunch of interesting things at Stanford for a major that included History, Computer Science and Communications. Adam wanted to teach a class in his field which is something like the history of computer and human interface…I think, but along those lines. This is obviously something I didn’t teach Adam in high school!

When it came time for Adam’s day to teach, I sat back, and enjoyed the thrill of learning about something about which I know—nothing! Adam decided to frame his lesson very much in a way that I would frame a lesson, with a “cultural artifact” to start us out, whet our intellectual appetites, then begin weaving together the context that is the broader landscape of said artifact finally hurling us into an epiphany—how did I not know about this before?! Don’t you just love those moments??? It is not just because Adam aped my style—it is hardly that revolutionary of a style, but taking a detail, processing it, scaffolding it, building it onto pre-existing knowledge and finally that exhilaration of how did I not know about this before?! is breathtaking.

Adam began with a cover from Time magazine from1943 of a man totally unknown to me, a man named Vannevar Bush (no relation to the Bush family pere and fils who have occupied the White House). Bush is on the cover of other magazines as well, and one announced, “Meet The Man Who May Win Or Lose The War.” I am intrigued. Oh, I love the exercise of accruing bits of knowledge and making sense of them. So who is this V. Bush guy? His pedigree was exceptional in terms of the universities for whom he worked or represented. He was interested in the information overflow he noticed and imagined ways to deal with the storage of information. Adam spun a great historical narrative as well, never leaving far behind the suspense of how this particular man, unknown to me before that day, may help the United States win or lose World War II! Bush imagined many ways to store information, and as Adam explained Bush’s musings, wow, well, we have achieved all of these things with our laptops and PCs etc. now. As Adam helped the class understand the impact of Bush’s musings we began to think about the link of our computers, the very keyboard at which I type at present, and how they are indebted to Professor Bush and his desire to help the United States win World War II. After we understand Bush’s proposals, Adam helps us understand the rush to progress with electronic computers (the rush is to beat the Germans, and then as the Cold War insinuates itself into the fabric of post-war life, the rush to beat the Soviets) not just as esoteric technological knowledge, but as a way to predict Soviet missile ballistics.

Adam explored the work of three other scientists all interested in “Man-Computer Symbiosis,” and in true Adam Kahn fashion (remember I taught him three times so I know him) he dazzled me. Adam took the concept of a personal computer, something now so quotidian, almost bordering on the mundane, and re-cast its history in light of the historical context of the last 70 years. Adam relayed that scientists involved with the first personal computers in 1975 found it to be a “religious experience.” Now this might sound overripe, but wait until you have watched a crackerjack former student teach you, and I might suggest, that is a religious experience as well.

Adam did the usual things while in Jordan—we tromped around Roman ruins in Jerash, Byzantine ruins in Um Ar Rassas, looked out over Mount Nebo as Moses did thousands of years ago, visited with Jordanian friends, shopped at Carpet City in Madaba (Ziad is the nicest shopkeeper in all of Jordan) and marveled at KA. Twelve years after he graduated from my daily tutelage, Adam and I spent more time in 2 weeks than in all those intervening years combined.

Just a few minutes ago I was presented with a gift from a graduating senior, a delightful and vital student named Noor. Noor decided to paint for me my third favorite painting of all time, a 19th century Friedrich work entitled, Two Men Contemplating the Moon. Noor knows how much I like it—especially because the painting is about Friedrich expressing thanks to his teachers and pupils. The two men in the scene have been apart from each other, but now are standing on the ridge of this hill, contemplating. Musing. Wondering. Reminiscing. I imagine the pupil is teaching the teacher a thing or two. It is natural. It is marvelous. It is education at its best, friendship at its most authentic, and, yes, beyond Oscar just being right, a rather religious experience.

Savor the view gentlemen.