The Painful Nowning Process

Campbell offers two “pre-law” majors: Government/Pre-law and English/Pre-law. (Some students major in Criminal Justice as a preparation for law school, but it’s more clearly a pre-professional degree.) In the past, almost every time prospective students would visit campus, if they had indicated an interest in “pre-law,” they would be funneled willy-nilly to the History/Government orientation/advisement sessions. Occasionally, an English professor would go over to the History department and ask, “Is anyone here interested in English/Pre-law?” Now and then, one or two hands would go up—they didn’t realize they’d had a choice. Fortunately, things are done differently now.

The Princeton Review notes that law school doesn’t require a “pre-law” major for admission:

If you major in English [emphasis added] or history, you’ll still be on the right track. Crucial to a Pre-Law major are critical reading, writing, and thinking skills. After all, as a lawyer, your job will require drafting cogent arguments and solutions to problems, then communicating those arguments and solutions effectively to persuade and convince a judge or jury.

In fact, you can major in almost anything that includes these kinds of critical reading, writing, and thinking skills, and that will also provide you with a breadth and depth of knowledge you can apply to legal issues.  The American Bar Association also notes the importance of general research skills and the ability to read and analyze lengthy, complex materials—for example, Victorian novels, the plays of William Shakespeare, or Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales in Middle English.

One university  with an entire college devoted to criminal justice recently realized that reviving its English major would give their students good value for money. One reason:

When the time comes to apply to law school, as nearly 30 percent of students there say they plan to do, what’s often missing is a record of analytic study, as honed through a series of literature and writing courses.

In short, one of the many, many things you can do with an English major is to go to law school. Once you do that, all the fun is over, but at least you will have enjoyed your undergraduate days. And perhaps, one day, you’ll write a novel like The Firm, make bazillion dollars, and leave the lawyers to fight it out while you go on to write best-sellers about how awful they are! (But note that John Grisham majored neither in English nor in Government before applying to law school: he was an accounting major!)

We had a good visit with my father over the Thanksgiving break, and spent the day with my sister’s family, with our celebratory meal a brunch. Start with eggs benedict, end with pecan pie—I recommend it. Along the way, we asked each other entertaining questions such as “What is your favorite Thanksgiving tradition?” My sister laughed, “We don’t have any!” Exactly. We are thankful when as many as possible of our widely scattered families can be together, and that we’re on good terms with those who are far away. We have homes, jobs, and more than enough to eat—and enough to share with those less fortunate. The details aren’t that important.

Now it’s the last week of University classes, then exams. I am far behind on grading, but fully expect to have everything done by the end of the week, and then…well…the finals.

Students have been asking me if I’ve seen the new Beowulf movie. Generally, I am willing to see a movie for myself before passing judgment on it, and I did just that with the 2005 Beowulf and Grendel movie (filmed in Iceland, with real live Gerard Butler as Beowulf). It had its moments, mostly involving scenic Iceland; its attempt to provide Grendel with a touching backstory was unsuccessful, as was the pointless insertion of a witch into the plot. Why doesn’t someone just go all the way and film John Gardner’s Grendel? It would make more sense.

However, one glimpse of Angelina Jolie in the trailer for the Zemeckis/Gaiman/Avary Beowulf, and I knew it would be a travesty. No one who had actually read the poem could take her seriously as Grendel’s mother, especially not with six-inch stilettos apparently growing from her heels. Clearly this movie was going to set up some kind of seduction…where that would lead would certainly not be pretty. Posters proclaimed “Pride is the Curse!” Well…one of the possible curses, at any rate. Talk about a vast oversimplification. So all right, I haven’t seen it. I hear the 3D effects are thrilling…and occasionally comical. But a movie that’s only worth seeing for 3D visuals doesn’t seem like much, especially when it’s based on one of the world’s classic tales of adventure, courage, combat, and sacrifice.

If I do see it, I’ll report. But I’ve already seen at least one reviewer write that he now “understands” Beowulf after seeing this movie. I think that’s extremely unlikely

Not Campbell’s Carrie Rich Memorial Library. Northern Kenya’s mobile library service arrives via camel, bringing books in English, Somali, and Swahili to rural schools that are literally off the beaten track. In a Voice of America story from March 2007, camel herder Omar Dabar Ali explains why camels are better than motorized “bookmobiles” for this terrain:

“The camel plays an important role in this process. The camel is very important in the Somali culture. Also, the camel can pass through small roads that a vehicle cannot pass through.”

I can identify a bit with this story. When I was a kid (ages 6-10), my family lived in a tiny mountain town that had no library. The monthly arrival of the county “bookmobile” was a joyful occasion. Nevertheless, we always had books at school and my family were dedicated readers. Literacy and advancing education in countries like Kenya is essential to their future, but lack of books is a major obstacle. The camel library reaches an under-served people group in a uniquely effective way.

Here’s how to help the Camel Library, if you wish.

They get internships. Seriously.

The deadline for the American Society of Magazine Editors is almost upon us—November 15—but there’s still time if you jump right on it. If you qualify, print out the application and go for it. You’ll need endorsements from your department chair and dean.

One of the things that really makes me mad is seeing Christmas-tree-lights on October 30. What! And then by November 1, if not sooner, the TV ads and news spots begin—shop now! get this hot toy!

Lauren Winner writes:

…We are inured not only to the Christmas story itself, but also to our pastors’ annual rants against consumerism. Every creative attempt to make the season meaningful, to steal it back inside the church, away from the shopping malls and cheesy radio stations, has been tried, and most of those creative attempts have proved wanting. Perhaps the problem is that we don’t know what the meaning of this holiday, of Jesus’ pushing into the world, is. If we did, we wouldn’t have to worry about consumerism; if we knew what the Incarnation meant, we’d be so preoccupied with awe we wouldn’t notice all the shopping

Once again, let us seek an awe-inspiring understanding of the Incarnation. In the meantime, and until Advent officially begins, we’ll start actively resisting worldly Christmas with Buy Nothing Christmas.

Generally, I would describe myself as favoring the “credo ut intelligam” approach to things (”I believe in order that I may understand”), but reason is also God’s gift and, used rightly, science reveals truth, as in this recent eSkeptic feature about experimental attempts to teach chimpanzees, etc., various types of sign-language, which shows that, just as many of us have always believed,

Descartes was right after all. Animals do not understand language.

In fiction, I’ll fall for a Bonzo or the signing gorilla in Return to Me as easily as the next person, but in reality, there’s no getting around it: humans are unique. Now if we can just live up to all that implies.

Just say “No” to torture. That’s all.

Or, Alan Jacobs reviews the poetry of Kahlil Gibran for First Things.

I think I’ll renew my subscription.

A few days ago, Mark Morford opined about the appalling effects of media on America’s youth and predicted general doom:

…My friend cites the fact that, of the 6,000 high school students he estimates he’s taught over the span of his career, only a small fraction now make it to his grade with a functioning understanding of written English. They do not know how to form a sentence. They cannot write an intelligible paragraph. Recently, after giving an assignment that required drawing lines, he realized that not a single student actually knew how to use a ruler.

It is, in short, nothing less than a tidal wave of dumb, with once-passionate, increasingly exasperated teachers like my friend nearly powerless to stop it. …

Interesting, infuriating, and (undoubtedly) intentionally scary essay. He does offer a small ray of hope.

With that in mind, I figure that in the future, T.S. Eliot’s The Wasteland will read like this. Unfortunately, as with most parodies, I suspect only those who appreciate the original will get the most humor out of it—which may further reinforce Morford’s point.

As long as we’re parodying poetry, consider Meowl! (Unspecified prize to whomever identifies the connection between the two poetic parodies.)