This article jumps out to me for a few reasons. First, it’s co-authored by my friend Hannah Smalley – a fellow with Global Health Corps. So that’s just awesome. And second, it’s about her recent experience in Malaysia at the Women Deliver 2013 conference. Which is awesome for a whole number of reasons. So instead of me telling you about it, read up on it yourselves. Just because you’re probably reading this on a lazy Saturday or Sunday doesn’t mean you don’t have to do any work.
Friday morning I received a typical post-grad Tulane Talk from Tulane President Scott Cowen. I usually click in, skim the subject line, and hit the trash icon, but today was different. Today was actual news: Our very own “Scotty C” was leaving Tulane, effective July 2014.
I came in after Katrina, so I won’t pretend I knew what it was to literally weather that storm, but I do know what I came into: school desperate to recruit students of the same, and higher caliber, that they had before the storm; an academic and extra-curricular structure that had a lot of holes due to cuts made in the aftermath of Katrina; a wonderful, vibrant city just re-acquiring its post-storm sea legs, and a university chomping at the bit to help.
Despite missing Katrina, I didn’t go un-hurricaned in NOLA. I was a guinea pig of sorts to Scott Cowen’s post-Katrina communication methods and implementation of new evacuation techniques in the wake of Hurricane Gustav, which ended up being not as bad as the subsequent Hurricane Irene. Go figure we evacuated for one and not the other, and ironically on the anniversary of the Katrina evac. But I have a worrier for a mother and I know she felt as comfortable as she could have been with her little girl leaving a strange new place because of a hurricane, and that was due in large part to the transparency provided by Cowen and his staff during that time.
Nothing is perfect – and that goes for Cowen’s 15 years as President. As is the case for most leaders tasked with making tough calls in times of crisis, Cowen received blow back for his decisions in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina to reduce the School of Engineering and to co-opt, and thus eliminate, Newcomb College, into Tulane University.
Now, I’ve never been a science girl and engineering was never in my cards, but the choice to take apart an entire sub-sect of Tulane academia is never really a good thing. Tulane’s academic casualties due to Katrina in this department were: mechanical engineering, civil engineering, electrical engineering, computer engineering, environmental engineering, and computer science, and also a bachelor’s degree in exercise science. The university’s recovery plan also outlines that the cutting of twenty-seven of its forty-five doctoral programs and suspended eight NCAA Division I intercollegiate athletic programs.
I have, however, always been a girl’s girl. What I mean by that is, I like the idea of Newcomb College and I like the idea of women helping to push, support, and foster the growth of other women. I’ve long denied the label of “feminist” but hey, maybe this is the time to call a spade a spade. Regardless, the merge and elimination of Newcomb College as an entity separate and parallel to Tulane was never something I had an opinion on, possibly because I never knew Newcomb as a separate entity as I know it was designed to be. I used Newcomb lunches as ways to learn and grow outside the classroom and enjoyed the gorgeous cottage that the program called home. Changing old traditions and vestiges of the past is difficult. But then, Katrina was a hurricane that devastated New Orleans in ways that many in America had never seen. New challenges require new, sometimes difficult, solutions. Scott Cowen made those choices in the Renewal Plan. While I understand the fight against the changes, I do not feel Tulane – from a student perspective – suffered for them. But then I only knew the “after” side of things.
In 2006, Cowen wrote:
For Tulane, Katrina has taught us to plan for the worst even as we pray for the best. It has taught us as an institution to stay focused on our mission and goals even in the face of financial and physical crisis. It has taught us the responsibility that comes with our role as the largest employer in our home city — a responsibility to help rebuild our city and heal its people.
I can only assume that it was this responsibility that spurred Cowen to found The Cowen Institute in late 2006 to benefit public education initiatives in New Orleans. I always loved how much Tulane stressed action in the community, and I appreciated being forced to interact outside the classroom in places and with people I may not have sought out on my own.
He leaves behind students – both current and graduated (me!) – who are grateful to him in some part for their success – even if they don’t know it yet. He brought Tulane back from what could have been a far-reaching, and long-term devastating event and he brought it back, to go all Thrones on you, harder and stronger.
My years at Tulane are without a doubt the best four years of my life. Words don’t do justice in describing the people I met, connections I forged, lessons I learned – both in and out of the classroom, and the friendships I now cherish from this wonderful institution. I stumbled into Tulane by chance but my decision to stay was deliberate. Since leaving, the school has flourished. Our rankings are far higher than when I initially chose Tulane – what my friends and I have come to call our choice to get in while the stocks were low – and we are now watching them soar. We’re very happy shareholders, to say the least. And as shareholders and former students, I just wanted to say thank you, Scotty C, for doing what you thought was right, doing it even if it was hard, and making strong once more a little campus in Uptown New Orleans that has nestled itself deep into many of our hearts.
Read the full text of President Scott Cowen’s letter below. (And for those of you without microscopic vision, I’d recommend giving it a click to enlarge it to readable size.)
I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve left them.
-Andy Bernard, Series finale of The Office
Well, the timing of the announcement (in the middle of the night) was a bit bizarre, but it’s nothing people haven’t been saying for a few weeks now.
In the ad announcing his candidacy (embedded above) he acknowledges:
Look, I made some big mistakes, & I know I let a lot of people down. But I also learned some tough lessons.
I know NYC never sleeps, but does it forgive?
I take a lot of notes in my phone. And tonight, as I was coming off another night shift, I found this one:
You find the thing that you love and you love them the best that you can.
Now, because I didn’t jot down where this came from – I’m unsure of the “them” in this scenario. Because I’m a hopeless romantic of sorts I like to think it’s about a person. But what makes this post relevant in my mind is reading “them” as “it.”
It is that it’s important to do what you love. When you do things with passion, you’ll do them to the best of your ability. In other words, you’ll do them well.
And at times, like Monday, when news is breaking and it’s getting ever-later, and the information coming in seems bleaker and bleaker with each update, the most important thing is to be doing what you love with other people who also love it. To me, it seems impossibly unsustainable otherwise.
In his book (political bible), the late Richard Ben Kramer imparts many truths. One of which has come to my mind many times over the course of this past week as the media picks apart Benghazi, the IRS, and the DOJ/AP “scandals.” I put them in quotes because it depends who you talk to. Most people in my immediate circles apply them to the last two but definitely not the first, for example.
Regardless, I felt the need to remind those of you who may stumble across this blog of these words from “What It Takes.” While they were written about Reagan, Bush 41, and their involvement in the Iran-Contra, they work just as well today. After all, our big questions are still – on all of these three fronts – who knew what, when. He writes:
“Alas, it is the surest sign that official Washington remains a precultural swamp that it has not offered mankind any refinement of language to illuminate its own constant preoccupation, the basic activity of its single industry, the work of its days and the spice of its nights, which is knowing. There are, in the capital, a hundred different ways to know and be known; there are fine gradations of knowing, wherein the subtlest distinctions are enforced. But to discuss this art and passion, we have only the same bland flapjack of a verb that flops each day onto our plates, along with the morning paper: To Know.
About this preoccupation there can be no dispute: knowledge is power, and the capital is a city built on power, which means known and being known. But this is more than a business in Washington. It is life. Only in the bars of Capitol Hill will you hear a normal, healthy young woman responding to the blandishments of her handsome swain with the delighted, breathy question, “You know Kerrey?”…This is knowing in the sense of acquaintance, of connaissance, but this is only the most basic way To Know.
…Then there is the matter of being known, which can be more important than knowing. If a Washington man is well-known as a man in the know, then his knowing is seldom tested. In fact, it is fed daily by people who come to him to see what he thinks about what they know…As a result, he ends up knowing pretty much what everybody else knows, which is usually enough.
…Then there is another shade of the verb, To Know, in the sense of awareness. It is about what’s going on right now, and as such, is Washington’s highest branch of knowledge. Encyclopedia scientia on the theory, history, and practice of progressive taxation in America is nothing, less than nothing, compare to knowing (a week before the vote) Chairman Rostenkowski’s bottom line on depreciation of timber assets. One brand of knowing (scientia) earns a ratty office and a shared secretary at the Heritage Foundation. The other (awareness) bring power, money, fame…
But the highest form of capital-knowing, the quest for awareness is also the most dangerous. Clearly, the lack of this knowing can undermine reputation or power, especially if…one ought to know. To be unaware, to be Out of the Loop, is allied in the tribal consciousness with impotence, inability, imbecility…and ultimately with the fatal affliction of ridiculousness. But there is also, in success, in wide awareness, a danger just as mortal. For this is the brand of knowing that is closest to Eating from the Tree of Knowledge, and can result in expulsion from Eden. When things foul up in a massive way; when The Washington Post, like God, is angry; when Committee Chairmen vie for jurisdiction of the hearing that will make them well known as the scourge of evildoing; then this is the knowing implied in the most portentous of capital questions:
What did he know, and when did he know it?
And so, there has developed, in Washington, a kind of knowing without being known to know, for which there is no word at all. It is a nonoperational, untraceable knowing, which can seldom be proven or disproven. Indeed, its vaguely oriental essence can barely be expressed. It is yin-and-yang, knowing-not-knowing.”
Man. I feel pretty Steve Kornacki, right now.
As usual, thank you Buzzfeed.
And thank you to the stranger who left this on my desk this morning!
This baby has made its way home after a short but sweet stint on-camera with MSNBC’s The Cycle as an extra in Steve Kornacki’s “Steve Speak” segment.
It’s easy to get lost in the mix of seeing, being seen, and “finding ourselves” or whatever. But I realized on Saturday night, while I was staying home and see/seeing exactly no one, what’s actually important.
I’ll backtrack slightly. My birthday is next weekend – Friday to be exact. Which is, counter-intuitively, a source of stress. Where do I go? With who? My parents asked me last weekend if I wanted to have dinner Friday and I said no almost instinctively. On my 23rd birthday, why would I spend my birthday with my parents? Especially when it falls on a Friday. #HappyHour – right?!
The week passed. Nothing out of the ordinary. Then Saturday I was thinking about birthday plans. Why is spending my Friday birthday at age 23 with my parents not cool? There are very, very few moments in my life that I’ve ever regretted spending time with my parents.
So today I called up my mom and dad and asked them if they still were free Friday to celebrate my birthday with me. And as much as I’m excited for whatever my friends and I cook up for the weekend ahead, the plans I’m the most excited for right now are the ones I just made for after work on Friday. And the burger I plan on ordering won’t be half bad either.
Maybe I really am growing up.