History Department

By Janis Gibbs

February can be a challenge for faculty, as well as for students.  The holidays are over, winter is gray, and spring break seems a long way off.  There is one thing about February, though, that always brings me a new sense of energy.  It’s Fulbright season.  In February, students who are interested in applying for a Fulbright scholarship begin their journey toward their futures.

Fulbright Scholarships are part of a program funded by the U.S. State Department.  The program has many elements, but the one that matters to Hope students is the U.S. Student Program, which sends recent graduates abroad for a year, to teach English, or to conduct research or a program of study in their academic areas of interest.  The program is national and competitive, but Hope students have a history of doing well in the competition.  Most students start in the spring of their junior year, choosing their potential host country and figuring out whether they want to teach, research, or study.  Seniors sometimes start the program in the spring, but need to wait a year after graduation before their grants are awarded.  We also work with Hope alumni who want to apply after having been out of college for a few years.

There are three things I like best about Fulbright season.  The first is the sense of infinite possibility.  Students have all kinds of dreams about what they might do.  A student of German decided to apply to teach English in Korea in order to expand her horizons.  A student who had studied abroad in Cameroon devised a research project to take her back to Cameroon to study beekeeping. Another student, when faced with the lack of English teaching opportunities in sub-Saharan Africa, switched her interests to Nepal, and won an English teaching assistantship there.  What will this year’s students choose to do?

The second thing I like about Fulbright season is getting to know the applicants.  Fulbright advising is a mixture of listening, asking questions, and editing.  The applications require two short essays, and they are difficult to write.  Applicants must compose essays that capture the essence of their personality, their preparation and their potential.  All students have interesting stories and wonderful aspirations.  It is difficult to articulate them, though, and sometimes we need to spend time talking about what is important to students, and about how they envision their futures.  Sometimes, the most compelling stories emerge from the details of other stories.  The first story we tell about ourselves is not always the most illuminating one, but it can be a gateway to an important and revealing narrative. Students need to tell stories that show themselves interacting with other people, and learning about themselves in the process.  It is a privilege to be part of the students’ process of self-discovery.

The third big reward of Fulbright season is observing the hard work and the growth of the applicants.  They work very hard during the spring semester, and then continue to work on their applications over the summer.  Most students revise their essays ten or more times.  By they time they return to campus in the fall, they will have written applications that are ready to submit for nationally-competitive scholarships.  During this process, students learn about writing, about persuasion, and about their own values.  I am always inspired by the achievements and the growth of the applicants by the end of the application process.

Of course, as happy as Fulbright season makes me in February, I still look forward to April and May, when we will find out the results of the applications that students started last February. I have my fingers crossed for them, and I will be ready to cheer, both for those who eventually receive Fulbright scholarships, and for those who do not.  We have very high hopes.  Since 2004, thirty-one Hope College students have won and have accepted Fulbright scholarships.  We are always looking for new candidates.  If you are a current Hope student or an alumnus/a, you could be one of them. It’s February—time to start for next fall’s application deadline.   If you are interested, please contact me ([email protected]) or Professor Cunningham ([email protected]) right away.  It’s not too late, if you start now.  Who knows where you’ll end up?  It’s a big world.  And send me a postcard when you go—I’ll put it on my door to remember you by.

By Matthew Meyerhuber

When I moved into Hope’s campus, I was already fairly certain I would be a History major.  In grade school and high school, I had always enjoyed my history classes.  AP United States, though, made something click.  After clearing out of my head the misconception that a History major is good only for teaching, I enrolled in two history classes in my first semester at Hope.  One of them was History 140 with Dr. Gibbs; the topic was early modern Europe.  From that point, I was hooked on German history in particular.  While working on my history major, I also worked on a German major.  I went to a Lutheran k-8 school—they still teach German there!  So, I had some experience coming in.  But over my first three years at Hope, I spent a lot of time developing my research and writing skills, and had a lot of contact with German primary sources.

Since my freshman year, I had also had a strong interest in law and government.  Part of what made History attractive to me was that it’s traditionally seen as a good pre-law school major.  Now, law and German history—how does somebody combine those?  You might imagine my excitement when I found out that my hometown of Frankenmuth, Michigan could help set me up with an internship at a law firm in our sister city of Gunzenhausen, Germany.

Coincidentally, a very distant and previously-unknown relative of mine had founded the firm.  So, this past summer, I spent about a month working as an intern at the Meyerhuber Rechtsanwälte (lawyers) firm.  I had the incredible opportunity to see many aspects of the German legal system—the frequency of small lawsuits, the ways in which the court structure differed from the American system (no juries, and no case law).  I also saw that my History major had definitely taught me some very important skills.  Being able to find information that could build your case was crucial.  The complexity we deal with in history is also good practice.  None of the cases I saw were cut-and-dry.  Almost all of them involved a question about the law, and building a successful argument required careful thinking on the part of the attorneys.

While I was in Germany, I also took some time away from the law firm to interview a group of people running a volunteer refugee organization.  What I found was that this went far beyond providing food and shelter.  These volunteers were working hard to help refugees in Germany, many of them from Syria, with the problems that they face entering a new country very different from their own.  Language and integration courses, education, and finding work for refugees are some of the group’s primary objectives.  The ultimate goal for the refugees is self-reliance.

My experiences in Germany over the summer guided the development of my current Honors History project on the history of German refugee policy and how that history applies to the present day.  This project is still in the writing phase; however, it will be a website by the end of the semester.  At the moment, I am applying to law schools, and I have a new focus and understanding because of my internship in Germany.  I’m also glad that I have the opportunity to process that experience in my coursework here at Hope.

 

 

 

 

By Kristy Traux Nichols ’02

We argued as my father drove me home from the airport. It was winter break in 1999, and I tried to explain to him that I wanted to change majors, dropping business to pick up history instead. “But what will you do in real life?” he asked.

At the time, I had no answer. Other than historian or college professor, I couldn’t think of a single job a history degree would secure. Telling my father that I really hadn’t thought that far ahead wasn’t an option, so I shrugged and said, “Lots of people go into careers that are unrelated to their undergraduate degrees.”

I pursued my history degree with a passion, learning how to research and write papers, question sources and my own assumptions. A watershed moment occurred while writing my history senior seminar paper for Professor William Cohen. I sat in front of him, trying to explain why I wasn’t farther along. I had reams of research, but my thesis felt tenuous. He told me, “Don’t try and rearrange history to suit your thesis. Your thesis should grow from your research.” It seems obvious, but it can be difficult to see the bias creeping into your work.

My father’s question was prescient (for me at least), and in a twist of fate that I recognize as ironic, I graduated and went to work for a large investment bank. My background in research and writing set me apart, and I moved up the food chain. Today, I work at a Registered Investment Advisor as a financial analyst, and every day I use the skills I learned in the Hope College History department to read and judge the veracity of financial filings and management discussion. Every day I question the source of information and ask why assumptions are made. My history degree has proven invaluable, and I genuinely believe it has been the key to making my career.

However, a career is not a life, and the methodology learned while pursuing a history degree is not something that is easily compartmentalized. It shapes my understanding of the news I read and the politics I embrace. The United States is living through a contentious era right now, and I have been frustrated by the current state of political discourse. I see people on both sides of the aisle rush to embrace any news, true or not, that supports their political viewpoint. I want to take the opportunity to reflect on what Professor Cohen said to me. Don’t start with a belief and then find the news to support it. Allow the news to inform your beliefs. Use rigor in examining sources and bias, and base your arguments on data and fact, not emotion.

My father asked me what I’m going to do in real life. This is it. I’m going to chart the course of my life – public and private – by using what I’ve learned: Be curious. Research. Question. Apply.

 

By Alexandra Piper

I arrived in D.C. a couple of weeks ago as part of Hope’s Washington Honors Semester, excited to tackle the new challenges of living in a city. For those who don’t know me, or have not heard my ramble on about my interests, I am a History and Political Science double major with a focus in African American studies and public history. Museums have always been a passion of mine and I will find any excuse to spend all of my free time in them. Currently, I am an intern in the Office of Programs and Strategic Initiatives and the African Americans Studies program at the National Museum of American History. Much of my time has been spent exploring the museum and the city and I have loved the experience.

This city is also home to something very close to my heart: The National Museum of African American History and Culture. Last summer, I worked as a research intern under Dr. Anna-Lisa Cox, a scholar and author in the field of African American history. I loved every second of the research, and my very own research project stemmed out of the work I did for her. For me, working with African American history is a unique, emotional, and passionate experience, one that is hard to put into words. From the second I stepped foot in the city, I knew I had to visit the museum immediately. Last week, I was able to do a quick walk through the museum on my lunch break, and this is the story of my first visit to the NMAAHC.

The NMAAHC experience starts in an elevator that descends nearly seventy feet below ground. About fifteen of us crammed into the elevator, eyes on each other, dead quiet, and standing completely still as we descended to learn about some of the darkest and forgotten stories of American history. The exhibits have 3 levels: C3 – “Slavery and Freedom 1400-1877,” C2 – “Defending Freedom, Defining Freedom: The Era of Segregation 1876 – 1968,” and C1 – “A Changing America” 1968 and Beyond.” The most striking part of the museum for me was the contrast between big and small, both physically and historically. Physically, the museum has large, powerful quotes engraved in the marble walls contrasting the small exhibits and small objects. Historically, they have the iconic artifacts like a Jim Crow railway car, a prison guard tower, Emmett Till’s coffin, and slave chains. The museum also makes a point to highlight the “small” stories, most often parts of African American history that are not taught in the narrative of American history like stories on farmers and daily life. One of the most powerful and forgotten stories for me was the small display on J. Marion Sims’ medical experiments on slave women, most often without anesthesia. I knew about the experiments before visiting, but experiencing it in a tangible way was disturbing and powerful. As a woman, it spoke volumes to me about the transcendent nature of how we view the female body and how these notions have intersected with race.

I walked through the exhibits with tears streaming down my face. Tears still stream down my face as I write this. This is a hard reality. I watched as fellow humans hugged each other during particularly difficult exhibits, like the one on Emmett Till. I watched as parents explained pieces of history to their children. Nobody laughed and nobody smiled. I normally feel a strong connection to history when I visit museums, but in this particular museum I felt an even stronger connection to history, to the people around me, and to all of the people in this country who sacrificed to help others. As difficult as it was to walk through, I am proud to live in a country that works hard to educate people on the darkest parts of history. This is not just African American history, this is American history and it must be remembered and discussed. We must do this.

I walked out of the museum humbled and determined to contribute to educating others on the importance of understanding history. The experience also made me appreciate the presence museums on a deeper level. I have had so many friends tell me that museums are boring, that they only focus on people that are dead, and devote time to events that are irrelevant (fellow historians, I know we have all had at least one friend say this to us). I will say this: history is never irrelevant. My visit to the NMAAHC has pushed me to think harder about how I educate those around me and the ways I can teach others in a compassionate, understanding, and loving way about how we can use lessons of the past to create a better and more humane future. Spread love, even in the hardest times.

If you are planning to visit Washington, D.C., please visit the NMAAHC. Timed passes are available on their website. The lines are long and the crowds are big, but it is completely worth it. It should also be noted that I only had an hour for lunch, so my goal was to quickly walk through the exhibits to see what the museum held. There are upper levels devoted to community and culture galleries that I plan on visiting again. There is no way to fully experience the museum in an hour, or even in one day. If you are unable to visit this museum, consider contributing in a different way: have these difficult conversations with your family and friends, do not shy away from tough issues, and push yourself to be compassionate towards people who face different struggles every day.

By Jeanne Petit

This past weekend, I had the pleasure of attending the American Historical Association Meeting in Denver, Colorado. Each year, thousands of historians from all regions and all eras get together at this meeting to hear about the latest research and see all the latest history books that have come out in the past year. I had the pleasure of attending sessions about fashion history, Catholic thinkers of the 20th Century, and using history to write about current events. I also participated in a session about religious encounters during World War II and presented a paper titled “Demand for National Action: Protestant and Catholic Women in World War I America.” Someone even tweeted our session! You can read his tweets here: https://twitter.com/danielsilliman/status/817469381160505344

Dr. Lauren Janes also came to Denver to network with other historians about the pedagogy of World History through her poster presentation on “Teaching World History with Food History.” We were also excited to see her new book, Colonial Food in Interwar Paris on display at the Bloomsbury exhibit!

 

And now we are back and getting ready to start our semester. I hope you’ll follow our blog and please email me ([email protected]) if you have ideas for blog posts.

By Albert Bell

A historian can make himself unpopular by disagreeing with the oft-expressed sentiment that “Jesus is the reason for the season.” We don’t know the year of Jesus’ birth. It was probably between 4 and 6 BC. Yes, Jesus was born Before Christ.

As for the month and day, there is no historical evidence that Jesus was born on Dec. 25, not in the New Testament and not in any Christian document of the first couple of centuries AD. The earliest Christian writer to say anything about the date of Jesus’ birth is Clement of Alexandria, ca. 200 AD. He says that different churches, if they observed the birth at all, placed it anywhere from April to September. An anonymous calendar from about 250 AD says the birth of Jesus should be celebrated “on the twenty-fifth day of the ninth month.”

By the fourth century the growing church was in competition with pagan cults that focused on the winter solstice, usually around Dec. 22. The Persian god Mithra, whose cult became very popular in the early Christian era, was supposedly born on Dec. 25. Shepherds attended his birth. The Romans celebrated Saturnalia in mid- to late December. They placed greenery and candles in their homes, exchanged presents, and went to parties. Lucian of Samosata, in the late second century, says of those mid-winter celebrations, “Let no one conduct business, personal or public, during the festival, except what pertains to sports, luxurious living, and entertainment.”

Some Christians were attracted to these celebrations, so the church wanted a festival to draw them away. Easter came in the spring; everyone knew that. No one knew when Jesus was born, though, so about 350 AD the bishop of Rome decided that the church would celebrate his birth on Dec. 25. The rest, as they say, is history.

But it’s a very muddled history, as the church picked up traditions from the pagan beliefs of people who were brought into Christianity without entirely giving up their old practices. The Germans gave us trees with lights (“O, Tannenbaum”). Saint Nicholas gradually evolved from stories about a kindly bishop in modern-day Turkey. The Magi became a trio because early Christian artists needed one man to carry the gold, another to carry the frankincense, and one more to carry the myrrh. We have no idea how many there actually were—only that there were two or more. And we certainly don’t know their names, which were attached to them only several centuries later.

All of this is not to say that the Gospel accounts of Jesus’ birth are unreliable. It’s just to remind us that a lot of what we think we know about Christmas doesn’t come from the Bible at all. The “season” had lots of reasons long before Jesus’ birth.

Young adulthood may be the most exciting time in life.  It is also the only time in your life when it seems acceptable for everyone, including complete strangers to ask “What do plan to do after graduation?”

When I arrived at Hope in the fall of 1983, the question was the same, and my answer was very vague.  I had no particular career in mind, and pictured a future where I would wear nice clothes, carry a briefcase, and go to an office every day to do “important” work.  So, with that plan in mind, a Business Major seemed like a good idea.

Turns out that was a popular choice of major with incoming freshman that fall.  My schedule filled up with many core classes and no business classes, and one of those was Modern European History.  That class changed everything for me.  I quickly left my intended Business Major behind and pursued a degree in History instead, which included a May term abroad, and working as a teaching assistant to Dr. Baer in his freshman level courses.

Fast forward 4 years to spring of 1987.  As a graduating senior I was trying to figure out how my History Major skills – which included filling endless blue books to overflowing, long research hours at the library,  piles of notecards with original source citations, and lots and lots of reading – were going to translate into a real job.

What I know now, that I did not know then, was that the skills and preparation I’d received as a History Major translated very well into the business field I’d originally imagined.  I took an entry level management position at a bank, and quickly learned that the ability to sort through a tremendous amount of information quickly and isolate what was relevant to the matter at hand was a skill that most of my peers did not have.  As I moved into different positions, again the experiences as a History Major proved valuable as it was often necessary to make a decision based on thoughtful review of relevant facts, draw conclusions, and write persuasively to an audience I may or may not meet.

My time as a History Major at Hope shaped the way I see and approach the world around me with tools that I put to use daily to further my career in my chosen field.  I learned perspective, thoroughness, curiosity, decision-making, effective communication.  As the years go by I realize how important these things are not only in my professional life, but also in preparing me for all the other important roles I play…student, graduate, wife, mom, mentor, encourager, activist, leader, and teacher all come to mind.

I’m celebrating my 30^th year in the banking industry this year.  If you had told me this when I arrived at Hope in the fall of 1983, it would have seemed as unlikely as a car that drives itself, or having a digital assistant named Siri.  But that is just the point.   Here we are in a future that we may not have ever imagined 30 years ago, but the preparation  received as a History Major at Hope has proven timeless.

By Natalie Fulk

Basically, since I started taking Spanish in seventh grade, I decided that I had to study abroad at some point while I was in college. I love learning about new cultures and groups of people and I wanted to experience a new culture firsthand. This fascination led me wanting to major in History and Spanish by the time I graduated high school. By this time I had also decided on being a lawyer, mostly because my high school history teacher had been a lawyer before he became a teacher and the way he described it made it seem like a good career for me. Eventually, I added on Political Science as a third major because I took a lower-level Political Science course my freshman year of college and I loved it. However, I wouldn’t say I had an extremely clear grasp on what actually being a lawyer was like; I just knew that studying History and Political Science and going to law school was a good combination and that knowing Spanish is a plus in any career. Now that I am almost done with my study abroad experience, I think I now understand why I chose this path and why it is perfect for me and studying abroad has shaped me towards being a lawyer and understanding more about the field.

I decided to go to Madrid, Spain the fall of my junior year of college, so the fall of 2016. I chose Spain because I think Spain has so much cultural and historical richness and I had learned about the history of Spain very thoroughly in my Spanish classes in high school so I wanted to see all of the places I had learned about. Therefore, while I was researching study abroad programs in Spain, I came across a program by the program CIEE called Legal Studies in Madrid, Spain. This immediately drew my attention because I wanted to take something related to law during my study abroad experience and learn about law in a different country, which would in turn help me learn about law in my own country through comparison. So I chose that program and at the end of the summer took off for Spain.

This program included taking one class taught by the program, Law in Contemporary Spain, and then for the rest of my courses, I am directly enrolled in classes in the Universidad Carlos III of Madrid. Law in Contemporary Spain was extremely interesting because through learning about the process of law in Spain and different social issues and solutions in Spain, I ended up learning more about my society in the United States. For example, we went to a courthouse in Leganés, a city outside of Madrid, and went to the courthouse there and walked through the different procedures that occur there, from lineups for identification by witnesses to trials to weddings. It was interesting to learn about court proceedings in Spain and compare them to the United States. During another class, we talked about the prison system in Spain and how it works to rehabilitate prisoners and prevent recidivism, and this led to a discussion comparing the prison systems of the United States and Spain. This class led me to have a different perspective on law in my own country by thinking about law in Spain and it made me more in interested in studying law.

Also, one of my classes that I took directly enrolled in the university was a law class on the theory of law. In Spain, after students graduate from high school, they immediately start their law studies, instead of going to undergraduate school and then going to law school like in the United States. So this class was like taking a first-year class in law school in the United States. By taking this course, I realize that my writing and analytical skills obtained from my studies so far have made me ready for law school and my majors connect very well to the study of law.  History, political science, and law go well together in that they all force people to analyze material and take into account different perspectives from different parties to form a well-rounded viewpoint or idea. It has been very interesting to study law in another country and through this experience, not only have I learned more about Spain, but I have learned more about my own country and myself.

By Jeanne Petit

While those of us who grow up in the United States connect the history of Thanksgiving to the Pilgrims who came to the United States in the 1620s, the first national celebration of Thanksgiving happened during the bloodiest conflict in American history—the Civil War. In the fall of 1863, President Abraham Lincoln issued a proclamation calling for the nation to commemorate a day of thanks.  Reading his words today remind us of the challenge and promise of our national mission to build a more perfect union.

By the 16th President of the United States of America.

A Proclamation.

The year that is drawing towards its close, has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added, which are of so extraordinary a nature, that they cannot fail to penetrate and soften even the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever watchful providence of Almighty God.

In the midst of a civil war of unequalled magnitude and severity, which has sometimes seemed to foreign States to invite and to provoke their aggression, peace has been preserved with all nations, order has been maintained, the laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony has prevailed everywhere except in the theatre of military conflict; while that theatre has been greatly contracted by the advancing armies and navies of the Union.

Needful diversions of wealth and of strength from the fields of peaceful industry to the national defense, have not arrested the plough, the shuttle or the ship; the axe has enlarged the borders of our settlements, and the mines, as well of iron and coal as of the precious metals, have yielded even more abundantly than heretofore. Population has steadily increased, notwithstanding the waste that has been made in the camp, the siege and the battle-field; and the country, rejoicing in the consciousness of augmented strength and vigor, is permitted to expect continuance of years with large increase of freedom.

No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy.

It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American People. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens. And I recommend to them that while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular deliverances and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquility and Union.

In testimony whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and caused the Seal of the United States to be affixed.

By Jonathan Hagood

With the help of my eight-year-old son (Tyler) I was recently reminded that I like to travel. It’s a longish story, but here’s the short version.

When my wife and I moved to Michigan in 2008, our oldest son (Jackson) was almost five and Amy was pregnant with Tyler. The three of us had lived in Northern California, Kansas City, Texas, and Buenos Aires; and Jackson has traveled extensively—including a three-day layover in Miami on our return from a year abroad in Argentina. Tyler, born in Michigan at the start of my first full-time job in higher ed, did not travel nearly as much. What’s more important, nearly all of his Michigan friends and classmates have either been to Florida or have grandparents who winter there.

So, since he was about three years old, Tyler has been asking us to take him to Florida. I told him I’d try, and I did. I applied for various grants marginally related to my research. None came through, but I did learn that having your preschooler ask you if you got that grant application in on time and then, later, whether or not you’d heard back about it is a different kind of pressure from the normal pre-tenure anxiety. Finally, a little more than a year ago, I saw an announcement for a conference in Florida for which a paper I’d been working on would be a good fit. I applied—this time without telling my pint-sized academic coach—and last summer heard back that I had been accepted.

Amy and I didn’t tell Tyler until two weeks before the trip, which was November 2-5 and, in a meaningful plot twist, just before Tyler’s eighth birthday on November 6 (as an aside, Tyler got quite a kick out of various security and airline personnel wishing him a happy birthday after checking his passport). So, Tyler finally got to go to Florida. We stayed on a beach, and all it cost him was two hours sitting in the back of a hotel conference room listening to his father and three other people drone on about “Varying Approaches to the Political and Diplomatic History of Nineteenth- and Twentieth-Century Latin America: From Transnationalism to Populism.” Tyler is an excellent travel companion. We enjoyed the airports, he was happy to spend an unplanned night in a Newark hotel thanks to a weather delay, we played at the beach, and we ate a variety of junk food. He and I enjoyed trips to the local Zoo and Aquarium, and we went on a boat and saw wild dolphins.

 

This trip gave me an opportunity to reflect on all of the travels I’ve made “for work.” My first academic conference, in fact, was in Amsterdam. You can imagine how the conversation with Amy, who was at home with a one-year-old Jackson, went when I explained the “necessity” of that experience. Here are some of the travel highlights that I’ve culled from my c.v.:

Dublin, Ireland: We took both kids to this one. Amy had been to Ireland with her grandparents when she was twelve, and we couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take Jackson when he was the same age.

Honolulu, Hawaii: This was thanks to a student whose project I mentored and who “needed” to make an off-campus presentation. The conference was a great venue for the work, and it was a great way to start my sabbatical semester. Amy came along, and the two of us spent a lot of quality time on the beach.

Geneva and Zurich, Switzerland: I was able to leverage presenting at a workshop to gain some valuable time at archives that I had wanted to go to but assumed I’d never be able to visit.

Montreal, Canada: Nice city, wish I could come up with work reasons to go back. Great conference.

Melbourne, Australia: Amy and I figured the odds of our ever going to Australia again were pretty minimal, and so we took advantage of a conference opportunity and dropped the kids off with Grandma. They wanted to go, but we told them they have full lives in front of them. We got to take a picture with a koala, which apparently you can’t hold (they get too anxious, which lowers their life expectancy).

Cambridge University, England: This took some creative fund-raising from chairs, deans, and a provost, but I made it happen. The conference itself was amazing, and I made a lot of useful connections. I need to get to Oxford to make a good comparison…

I have of course been to all manner of domestic destinations: Omaha, Chicago, Waukesha, Milwaukee, Boston, Scranton, New Orleans, Minneapolis, Washington, DC, San Diego, etc. It’s always fun to go places, and I think there is something to be said for the conference experience pulling you out of the comfort zone of “home”. It enlivens the brain’s ability to make connections and think about things from different perspectives. It also helps that I like hotels and airplanes and airports. Some people don’t. I’ve also so far managed to stave off any jadedness that comes from the realization that all of these places are actually quite similar. Globalization is real, particularly when one travels for brief periods to conference hotels, meetings rooms, and downtowns. Still, it’s one of the perks of the job.

In the end, I’m glad I got to take Tyler to Florida and that I got to remind myself how fun traveling can be. Left to my own devices, I’d hunker down for the workshop or conference and then slink back to the hotel room to try and become less behind on grading and email. An eight-year-old isn’t content to look at the program and circle the presentations he wants to go to. Far from it.