Meredith’s Musings | Heart of the Humanities

article by MEREDITH MCKINNIE

Over the course of my two decades in academia, I’ve benefitted from the oversight of unique personalities. I don’t think of myself as a traditional academic, and I’ve found, neither do many of my academic peers. In higher ed, like in other career paths, imposter syndrome is rampant. I always believed I’d slipped through the cracks, that no one had quite figured out that I didn’t fit the scholastic mold. I found ways to navigate the complexities of vigorous studies, academic discourse, and better-prepared colleagues. But somewhere along the way, I began to believe in myself, to understand what I brought to this esteemed environment. In not fitting the traditional mold, I complicated the academic stereotype, and widened it, thereby inviting in those who also questioned their belonging.

To the dismay of my father (who was hellbent on my becoming a pharmacist), I fell in love with the Humanities – invigorated by the study of the human experience through literature, language, culture, philosophy, and history. As a graduate student, I found myself teaching composition classes, encouraged by a superior with a kind face and an even kinder spirit. She mentored me, believed in me, and fostered my belief in myself. As our offices were adjacent to one another, she often would overhear my conversations with students, one time insisting that my explanation of the purpose of a conclusion paragraph to be the best she’d ever heard. She told me that I was exactly what academia needed, that I had a way with people that helped them believe in themselves, that my vulnerability and willingness to share my own academic struggles lit a path for students to follow. I modeled my pedagogy after this mentor, leaning in when I felt like leaning back, exhibiting radical patience and trust in my students, choosing to meet resistance with further invitation.

Later in my career, after structural reorganization, I found myself under the leadership of another individual, a dedicated lover of languages, a legend of sorts at my institution. Like my original mentor, she exhibited calm in times of chaos, practiced a consistent open-door policy, and welcomed the ideas of myself and others. Her relaxed leadership style put me at ease. When I vented about a classroom issue or lack of connection, she listened intently, rarely extending unsolicited advice. A leader who is a sounding board is a rare gem, and I reveled in the comfort of our exchanges. She was, and remains, my friend, despite our thirty-year age gap. Her pedagogy differed from mine, and yet we shared a purpose and way of communicating. We believed that educational transformation occurred through challenging our students outside of their comfort zones.

In my student interactions, I found myself toggling between these two engagement styles modeled by the aforementioned mentors, as some moments called for patience while others called for polite pressure. I saw immediate returns in both approaches, and found that I could employ both strategies and trust myself to know which path to pursue. In believing in me, by investing their time in me, these fellow colleagues demonstrated the primacy of believing in myself.

I began fall semester without these two academic champions down the hall. I told a colleague I felt like I’d lost the heart of the humanities, that these two elite educators were the two halves of the heart of our shared mission. And then it occurred to me, as I have the very quote from E.E. Cummings on my wall: “I carry your heart with me, I carry it in my heart.” They poured into me, and in turn, I should continue the work we all so desperately believe in – that to build a better world, we have to model and educate our fellow citizens. Within these academic walls, we have the power to model kindness, encourage individual thought and collective action, to invest in the future we envision by encouraging the students who will embody our efforts. My mentors demonstrated the core of the humanities, and I’m forever grateful for their investment in me and thousands of students along the way.