This essay attempts to
reflect on the influence of some of the teachers who played a siginificant
role in my intellectual development. Critical to that development were
the labors of Mrs. Welcome, Miss Fields, Miss Faye Fenty (on whom I had a
crush), and my high school English teacher, Ms.______, who inspired in me
social and black consciousness and introduced me to Shakespeare, Matthew
Arnold’s “Sohrab and Rustum”, Coleridge’s “Rime of the Ancient Mariner”, and
Tennyson’s “Morte D’Arthur”. But perhaps the most influential were four
men under whose tutelage I studied during my four-year sojourn at the Jamaica
Theological Seminary. I credit these men for the role they played
in helping to shape who I am today and for the knowledge and critical thinking
ability I have since acquired.
Now my readers will
find it strange when I say that I learned nothing from these esteemed
gentlemen. By saying such I certainly mean no slight of their ability as
teachers, for, to the extent that they are still educators, they are excellent
teachers; however, more importantly, they were like signposts, pointing out
certain directions, leaving me with the decision whether to follow whither they
were pointing and whether to pursue those to whom they introduced me.
“Ah, Mr. Couchman!”
My peers in my
Introduction to Philosophy class experienced the same frustration as I.
We would be given a reading assignment, and then the next day we would be
greeted in class by, “What have you gleaned since last we met?” Further
adding to our frustration (and also providing cause for amusement) was Mr.
Hall’s penchant for correcting or critiquing his own suggestions that we used
in his initial correction of our essays. One such essay was my attempt to
show how Hegel arrived at the conclusion that the “real was rational”. My
sources were carefully chosen, and in my second rewrite I made sure that I used
the suggestions that Mr. Hall had offered for improving the essay. I used
one of the statements attributed to Hegel in our text book, and in the margin
of my paper Mr. Hall wrote, “Did Hegel say that?” I was stunned.
From that moment I resolved to read directly the printed works of every major
western philosopher and not that which other scholars have written about
them. Thanks to Mr. Hall, I made good on that resolve and then
some.
During that semester in
Mr. Hall’s class, I can recall no spirited debate about Plato, Aristotle, or
any of the more well-known philosophers, neither were there discourses on
ultimate issues. Billy Hall would just sit there in front of the
class or pace with his hands in his pockets, a sort of smug smile on his face,
and offer platitudes. One such was a bit of advice that he said he
received from one of his professors, “Read for your degree.” I must say
that I followed that advice, literally.
The most significant
moment in my experience with Mr. Hall came one day in class during our
discussion on some idea of which I have no recollection. Whatever it was,
he was berating our deficiency in analysis and admonishing us to,
“Think.” That was an imperative that I had heard my entire life from my
parents and my teachers, and for which lack I was often severely scolded.
So here was my opportunity to find out the answer to that question that had always
plagued my mind, and who else but my philosophy teacher could provide the
answer. I raised my hand, and upon being acknowledged, I asked, “Mr.
Hall, how does one think?” All he said was, “Ah, Mr. Couchman,” and
continued with the point that he was making at the time. I left the class
that day feeling empty. I understood that ones successful completion of
the intellectual quest depended on his or her ability to think, and from that
day, thanks to Billy Hall, finding out how to do that effectively, became my
relentless pursuit.
“Mr. Camus, I presume?”
I had very little
patience for Church History and even less patience with a teacher who simply
gave chalkboard talks inundating students with endless notes, resulting
ultimately in taking tests or quizzes based entirely on those
notes. My Apologetics course was also offered in similar
fashion. The primary thrust of the educational experience around those
two courses seemed to be the appropriating of material or demonstrating mastery
through memorization. As I attempt to recollect information
presented during those lectures, no substantive concept comes to mind.
But what do come readily to mind are the names of authors and their works that
the professor of those courses referenced. Las Newman had this way of giving
the names of important individuals and their major works. More than
anything else in the two courses he taught, his references to these figures
appealed to me, and I decided to vigorously pursue those authors and their
works to ascertain whether they indeed corroborated those things that Las
shared with us. I often found myself wondering whether he himself
had read all the works to which he was referring or whether he were simply
doing what most professors did - refer to sources that they themselves merely
came across in reference and did not directly read.
As Las taught those two
courses, I found myself looking forward to his references more than to the
content of his presentations. As a result, I was introduced to and discovered
the humongous City of God and Summa Theologica, among others,
tremendously expanding the breadth of my reading in ways unimaginable.
Above all, it was Las’ presentation on Existentialism that was another major
point in my intellectual journey. Again, I reiterate, it was not his
exposition on that movement that was critical to my development, but the
individuals connected with the movement to whom I was introduced. Like a
signpost, Las pointed me to Marcus Aurelius, Camus, Kierkegaarde, T.S. Eliot,
and many many others, all of whose complete works I have read. I
was relentless in my pursuit; the result was that I also pursued authors who
were referenced in the writings of these authors and so on. The very
title of this essay reflects that of which I write, Augustine’s Concerning
the Teacher is the influence. Las never told us that we were
to read those authors, but for me it was obvious. I took very seriously
Billy Hall’s advice about being responsible for my own education.
My most significant
discoveries during my time in Las Newman’s Church History and Apologetics
courses were Camus, and Kierkegaarde. The discovery of these men’s works
also coincided with the beginnings of my disenchantment with the life of
faith. Their idea of self-authentication and self-definition as opposed
to a universal definition of who I or any other individual ought to be appealed
to me. The concepts of choice, freedom, and their logical corollary of
loneliness, dread, and anxiety, I could accept. They made sense to me at
the time. These men, in turn, led me to Dostoevsky (especially his Brothers
Karamazov and one of
the key characters in that novel, Ivan, who impressed me with his decision to
“…refuse the ticket.”), Tolstoy, and many others. The floodgates of
literature and philosophy burst open, catapulting me into the pre-Classical and
Classical Greek periods, the Middle Ages, the Renaissance, the Romantic period,
Modernism, and Post-Modernism. It was truly the beginning of my period of
discovery, significantly enlarging the breadth and scope of my reading.
Las Newman’s reference approach helped to make that happen.
“…slow riseth worth…”
Anyone who has lived
and grown up in the so-called Third World will tell you that
models and standards of beauty, scholarship, perfection, morality, etc., were
those that were presented to us through the films, magazines, news, and other
media of white people. So imagine my confusion when for the first time in
my life I am being praised and recognized for my intellectual ability by a
white man. My initial response was that he was simply trying to patronize
me and that he was just another white person who was being condescending to
another “native”. At the time, I disdained the presence of white
professors on the JTS faculty, for in my view they were all part of the white
missionary enterprise to bring “light” to us hapless third world people.
Within that frame of thought, Tim Erdel was the exception to that which I
perceived as the rule. In his mid-thirties, with scruffy beard, staring eyes
behind glasses, and blue jeans, he looked the combination of hippy and
Quaker. It was because of him that I came to know G.K. Chesterton,
Samuel Johnson, and especially Miguel De Unamuno.
I first saw the
quotation that begins this section of my essay at the beginning of a
recommendation that Tim wrote for me for acceptance to Princeton Theological
Seminary. I was not accepted to Princeton , but the three
individual to whom Tim introduced me did more for me than Princeton could have done.
I found out that the quotation was from Samuel Johnson’s poem, “London ” – a wonderful poem
indeed, but it was Unamuno’s short story, “San Manuel, the Good Martyr” more
than any of his other writings that significantly changed my life. I will
leave the discussion of that text for another essay.
I took two courses with
Tim Erdel, one (Religion and the Classics) in my undergrad program and the
other (World Religions) in my graduate program. What I particularly liked
about Tim as an instructor was that he allowed students to pursue their own
interests. As a result of that approach, I was able to focus entirely on
Albert Camus’ The Fall, Karl Barth’s Evangelical
Theology, and on Hinduism. My in-depth study of the latter
made me re-discover the “Bhagavad Gita” and opened up for me the world of the Mahabharata (the one book that I would have
with me on a desert island if I could choose only one book) and the Ramayana. Further,
because of Tim’s approach, I was also introduced to some of the interests of my
fellow students in his classes. I remember being awed and moved by classmate’s,
Dave Gosse’s analysis and presentation of Thomas Hardy’s Far
from the Madding Crowd. It was in Tim’s classes that I began
to see the connection between literature and philosophy and in which both those
disciplines started to draw me in more than ever. My passion for
literature and philosophy has continued unto this day, and I have incorporated
both into my Great Books class as a high school teacher.
The Bishop of Woolwich
For a very long time,
one prominent inhabitant of my library was a tattered, beaten up, little brown
book, with an image of Robert Tait McKenzie’s The Competitor on its cover. I referred to it
lovingly as “my little brown book”. I had rescued it (while
studying in Jamaica ) along with a few
other books from a box of books put out for disposal. When I placed it
among my small stock of books at the time, I made a mental note of its
author. Then not long afterwards in my course on the Book of Romans, I
heard the professor making a reference to J. A. T. Robinson and his Honest
to God; I remember returning home later that afternoon and
knocking off that little book in one sitting. The professor was the Rev.
Sam Vassel, and that book, drawing on the works of Bultmann, Bonhoeffer, and
Tillich, marked a pivotal point in my experience.
As a professor, Rev.
Vassel was not only instrumental in introducing me to the Bishop of Woolich, he
did something far greater; he gave me his friendship – that which no other
teacher has ever given me as a student. Our friendship grew and deepened
during the times we spent jogging in the early morning hours before classes
started. It was during those runs that I came to know Sam better – his
humility, his great sense of humor, his passion. His passion as an
educator was admirable, and that passion was also seen in his role as husband,
pastor, and father. I have since become an avid runner, but that love of
running began back then with our morning runs. I have long
forgotten all the things Sam, my fellow students, and I discussed in that class
on the Book of Romans, but Bishop Robinson’s work still resonates with me, Rev.
Vassel remains my friend, and I will be participating in a 15K race in Central Park next Sunday.
Concluding…Postscript
I know the value of
teachers. They are our unsung heroes and heroines guiding us, helping to
train our minds, and helping to shaping our values. In some cases they
are our models of how we ought to be. My teachers have been the signposts
and stepping stones in my life’s journey, and I owe them a huge debt of
gratitude.
I have come a long way
since my experience in the classes of Billy Hall, Las Newman, Tim Erdel, and
the Rev. Sam Vassel. After my engagement in the field of Biblical Studies
and Theology and subsequently devouring countless works of literature and
philosophy from the major cultural movements from the Pre-Classical period to
Post-Modernism, I chose the profession of a high school teacher. I
have chosen to work with teenagers because I do not have to worry about trying
to impress them with my knowledge and intellect; they simply don’t care about
the teacher’s intellectual ability. That frees me up to be genuine with
them as I try to guide them through their intellectual journey.
I have also since
walked away from “faith”, a faith for which I continue to maintain a profound
respect and that I regard as having been immensely functional for me during a
certain period of my life. The “walking away” was also by choice (on
account of a rather significant event while sitting under a tree on the JTS
campus), in the mold of Ivan Karamazov’s “refusing the ticket”, with my holding
a simply philosophy that life makes sense and that people make sense.
Looking back, I must say that I have come a long way, and the men mentioned
above have been influential in a certain part of that journey; to each of them
I am extremely grateful.
As I bring this
reflection to a close, I would like to also draw attention to two fellow
students who, during that time at JTS, helped to make my experience
there during those four years superbly rich and a lot of fun. I consider
them my friends and brothers – David Pearson and Alex Chambers.
[Photographic Art by Ric Couchman]
[Photographic Art by Ric Couchman]
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