I remember the first time I saw the walrus and the carpenter scene in Disney’s Alice and Wonderland. I was horrified. I remember uneasily watching the sweet and excited baby oysters follow the walrus to their death. Wide-eyed, I willed my mind to shut out this memory, but it stayed with me throughout the night. As this vignette unapologetically switched back to Alice and the rest of the story, I searched for a moral or explanation but none came. More instances of animal cruelty followed, flamingoes and hedgehogs as croquet equipment and a cute drunken mouse being shoved into a teapot. Finally, I resolved that I “just didn’t like that movie. It was too scary.” And that was pretty much it. I didn’t want to watch it again until I decided to show my sister, and she had the same conclusion. I guess at the time we were both too young to discern any arguments Lewis Carroll could have been making in regard to animals and ethics.
The “Walrus and the Carpenter” still comes to mind first when considering the books. When I read through the passage, I was ready to be redeemed. But Alice’s compassion did not go far enough, commenting that she liked “the Walrus best,” (Carroll, 187) and later the Carpenter because “he didn’t eat so many as the Walrus.” (Carroll, 188) Alice’s identification with the perpetrators demonstrates how far people still have to go. Alice still shows a modicum of compassion for the oysters as she tolerates their consumption in moderation, but she still doesn’t respond to their deaths or the pain they must have felt. In this way Carroll shows that people may recognize animal cruelty but not do enough about it. Additionally, Carroll demonstrates the tentative and unhealed relationship between humans and animals in the fawn episode. When Alice met the Fawn, he “gave a sudden bound into the air, and shook itself free from Alice’s arm. “I’m a Fawn!” It cried out in a voice of delight. “And, dear me! You’re a human child!” A sudden look of alarm came into its beautiful brown eyes, and in another moment it had darted away at full speed.” (178) The Fawn is clearly afraid to be around humans. And why wouldn’t he, when humans hunt them for sport? Carroll also demonstrates an animal’s worth by showing the deer’s sense of identity. “I’m a Fawn!” and, possibly, “And, dear me!” are statements where the Fawn identifies himself. Carroll wants his readers to notice that animals clearly have their own worth outside of the lives of humans.
While Carroll writes about an animal’s individual worth, he also demonstrates how humans and animals may coexist. In Wonderland, animals and people live together. While the King and Queen of Hearts, as humans, rule the kingdom, the differences among other humans and animals are not mentioned. The March Hare and the Mat Hatter, for example, have tea together, and the Walrus and the Carpenter both set out together to lure in the oysters. Carroll presents humans and animals on the same level in his books, evidence that he wants animals to be granted more respect. In this sort of society, presumably, connections between animals and people such as Jude the Obscure when felt a “magic thread of fellow-feeling [which] united his own life with [the group of crows].” (Anthology, 320) may become more common. Furthermore, as David says in his essay, “The humanization of the animals in the story does not serve to water down their impact […] Carroll does not invite Alice (and us) to learn human lessons from animal mouths, but rather to consider that animals might ALWAYS have had a voice that we have neglected to hear.” (Daniel) The lessons Alice learns from the animals are universal and are not meant to apply solely to the human condition.
Alice loved her cat, Dinah. Perhaps she could have shown more compassion to the creatures of Wonderland?
Even so. Alice, as a human from our reality, has a hard time relating to animals and being considerate of them and their differences. When Alice speaks with the mouse for instance, in the pool of tears, she constantly insults him by forgetting that he would naturally not like dogs and cats like she does. Similarly, when Alice’s neck grows after her meeting with the Caterpillar, she tactlessly speaks to the Pigeon about eggs. When the Pigeon mentions that he is afraid Alice is a serpent who will eat her eggs, Alice says that she has “tasted eggs certainly,” (Carroll, 55) and mentions that she would not eat the Pigeon’s eggs because she doesn’t “like them raw.” (Carroll, 56) Alice demonstrates here, as the symbol of humanity, that people often do not try hard enough to understand animals and their differences. Furthermore, because of this lack of understanding, people will often cause animals discomfort as Alice did. Carroll seems to present a possible solution, however, through Alice’s strong association to her cat Dinah. Alice seems to have a very strong connection and friendship with her cat and does not treat her like she does the animals in Wonderland. Perhaps Carroll is suggesting that if we could see all animals as we see our pets, we might treat them all much better. It’s hypocritical when people remark on the intelligence of their dogs to discredit animal intelligence in other, wilder species. Carroll is attempting to show this disparity through Alice’s biased judgment of animals. After considering the evidence of animal ethics in Carroll’s works, I realized that he truly was making a powerful argument. I now could go back to my past self and tell her that the movie wasn’t really that bad; it was actually making a very nice point!
When I first read this DB assignment, to write about Alice and leadership, I was a bit confused. How was Alice a leader at all? Throughout Wonderland, she is constantly put in situations outside her control—in one minute speaking with the White Queen, the next rowing in a boat with a sheep, the next speaking with Humpty Dumpty on a wall. At first thought, I felt that Alice was anything but a leader, but I then realized something very valuable. Alice is a leader in progress. Through attempting to find herself, she may teach others—us included—how we may navigate through the seemingly nonsensical world of college and even of our lives beyond.
"Who are you? "To become effective leaders, we must ask ourselves the same question. http://www.stickerchick.com/D/sdis0116.jpg
What struck me most about Alice is how distanced she is throughout the book. Understandingly, she has a difficult time relating to the creatures and characters of Wonderland, but throughout—and this is most important—Alice is unquestionably herself. Her journey through Wonderland is a highly contemplative one: the caterpillar asks her to “explain [her]self!” (Carroll, 47), and the Cheshire Cat causes Alice to question where she is going (Carroll, 65) perhaps a metaphor for Alice’s life journey. Covey speaks about the need for leaders to have self-knowledge and a balanced understanding of oneself, paying equal attention to our mental, physical, emotional and spiritual intelligences. (Covey, 232-233) Alice’s time spent in Wonderland is ultimately transformative not because she attempts to conform to the mixed standards of the characters she meets but because she is able to evaluate herself, to measure her own self-worth and assess her self-awareness. What we are doing in this class—what we are doing in college—that is more important than simple schoolwork is the same task as Alice’s: a careful consideration of the self. Hopefully, we may follow Alice’s example. Faced with a world run by backwards logic (if any logic at all), Alice emerged triumphant. Alice’s crowning at the end of Through the Looking Glass is the culmination of Alice’s journey. Alice doesn’t rule over the creatures of Wonderland, she rules over herself. It is this self-control and self-awareness which is necessary for effective leadership.
Ask questions. This is how ethical problems may be brought to justice.
Alice is also an ethical leader.While she is oftentimes tactless, offending the creature’s of Wonderland by, for example, bringing up the sensitive subject of dogs and cats to the mouse in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (Carroll 26), she is a fierce defender of logic and justice.Carroll, an expert logician, included many instances of logic and word play in his books. Entertaining, they might serve the additional and deeper purpose of emphasizing the importance of questioning that which we don’t understand. Alice constantly questions the world of Wonderland, growing “curiouser and curiouser” (Carroll 20) about what she encounters. Sometimes she is merely interested such as when she questions the White Night in Through the Looking-Glass: “Everybody that hears me sing [my song],” says the White Knight, “either it brings the tears into their eyes, or else—“ “Or else what?” said Alice. In other instances Alice reasserts her opinion such as the occasion when she questions the validity of the Cheshire Cat’s logic. The cat argues that he is mad because he growls when he’s pleased and wags his tail when he’s angry. Alice counterargues that she calls a cat’s behavior, “purring, not growling.” (Carroll 66) Regardless, Alice constantly questions the statements of those around her, something anyone must e able to do to recognize justice. Alice’s commitment to justice is realized in the climactic court scene at the end of Adventures in Wonderland when she attempts to reveal the injustice of the trial. When the Queen commands Alice to “Hold [her] tongue!,” Alice replies that she “wo’n’t!” (Carroll 124) Alice commands us to stand up for justice, to question the rationality and ethics of situations, even when the world around us is agreeing. Alice has demonstrated, as the popular phrase says, that “doing what’s right is not always popular.” In one annotation, I learned that Carroll meant for Alice to be a story without the blatant morals of the “nice little stories,” (Carroll 17) typical of his day.Incidentally, Alice is an important ethical story—one which emphasizes the importance of questioning and logic in carrying out justice.
The Court Scene, a dramatic example of justice
Another way Alice may lead is by example. Through reading Carroll’s books and the testimonies of other students in the Anthology, I was able to make comparisons to my own life and my experience in college thus far. As Dougill writes in his essay “Rites and Wrongs,” even Dodgson himself was uncomfortable with and related to the adjustments and rigor of college life. There is an “emotional distance” from home where one may feel “distraught and disoriented” and “lonely.” (Dougill, 203) I have made considerable adjustments to college life. One connection I drew related to the differences between what we are asked of in college and in high school. In high school, we are told to know very specific information (think AP class style), but in college we are forced to learn more about how we may push ourselves and learn about ourselves than anything else. We are thrown into a world where we are expected to be altered beyond return. I have felt the confusion Alice felt when she tried to recite a well-known poem, “How Doth the little—“and says something completely different instead, a poem about a crafty crocodile! I feel that most of the information I learned in high school is largely nontransferable. College expects different knowledge out of us. What we knew then is not what we are asked to learn now.By relating Alice’s experience to my own I am able to find something familiar. We are all in Wonderland—college—but unlike Alice, I’m happy I haven’t found my way back out yet.
Oxford College. Even the structure itself is intimidating!
“For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings, they are other Nations […]”
—Henry Beston, 1928 [1]
I have a confession to make. I’ve written this paper before. In elementary school it might have gone something like this, “I really really really [2]like animals. I want to help them when I grow up. I want to be a zookeeper and feed them.” Throughout our childhoods, we were asked the same scary question, “what do you want to be when you grow up?” And, at least when we were children, our answers stemmed from our passions: girls who loved ballet were destined to become ballerinas and anybody who loved to sing was going to be a rock star. Today, my answer is even less coherent than it was in elementary school.What do I want to be? I know, or I hope I know, that my future still lies with my passions.
There are my passions and my Passion [3]. I have a passion for theater and musicals, for reading good books, for volunteering and learning and excelling. If passion may be defined as a “strong or extravagant fondness, enthusiasm, or desire for anything [4],” I suppose I am passionate about laughing and having fun, about eating Mexican food, watching The Office and getting a good night’s sleep. When asked what my true Passion is, I know it, too: animals. But then I’m forced to stop and ask my audience, “Do you want the short story or the long?” Short story: I love animals, and I think they deserve more respect. Long story? Well buckle up, kids, I’ve got a lot I want to tell you.
I have always loved my pets. Here's Lady.
I have always loved animals. An only child the first seven years of my life, nature was a constant source of companionship. I knew the optimal toad-catching conditions [5] from an early age and took off invariably whenever I heard their distinctive peeppeeps. Occasionally, I liked to keep one in my purple critter keeper for a night or so, serving as a hyper-vigilant concierge, making sure that every bit of dirt, every rock, each carefully placed leaf was to her [6] satisfaction. My neighborhood was teeming with other potential playmates, too: roly-poly’s on the front lawn, an enormous anole, Betty, whom I greeted each morning as she basked on the gate, dogs going for walks. I tried to form a connection with every animal I met, even bringing a feral cat into the house one New Year’s Eve! As I grew older, however, animals played a different yet equally important role in my life. I began to feel a deeply emotional, perhaps even spiritual, association with animals and the natural world.
I remember one such subtle connection I felt with my schnauzer, Annie. I see it now as though I were outside myself, witnessing a moment at once so inconsequential yet profoundly fundamental to my ideas. It was late spring and already hot gusts of air blew through the open windows of our van as we sped down the highway. My dad drove, unperturbed, as Annie pushed her way between the two front seats, claiming her traditional spot. I started to laugh as my hair waved tumultuously in strands like an octupus’ tentacles, covering my eyes and face. Annie seemed to enjoy the breeze too, her face upturned and eyes closed. This pure and uncomplicated coexistence is how I want animals and people to be. Annie and I were both happy, for similar reasons but I suspect in different ways: I could both connect with her and still wonder. I remain passionate about these moments.
I want to believe—no, I do believe—that I have formed emotional connections with animals, that I’m not simply projecting anthropomorphic tendencies onto my experiences. But, as an extreme rational [7], I have always demanded proof of animal intelligence and emotion.Opening Jane Goodall’s Through a Window in sixth grade introduced me to a world of proof. I remember reading it one night, soon after I had started. My mom had taken my sister and me to a park further away from home, one which we rarely got to visit. Yet I kept finding my mind being pulled away: I wanted to play, but I needed to know. I remember reading it then, struggling to see under the dim industrial lamplight, soaking in as much as I could before my mom could stop me, protesting, “Katherine, you can’t read anymore or you’ll ruin your eyes!”
A video showing how chimpanzees make spears used to hunt bush babies. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IT4WiMrzByg&feature=related
If you want evidence of animal intelligence and reason, it’s in this book. Chimpanzees are able to make and use tools premeditatedly walking hundreds of miles to create the perfect tool for luring termites out of their mounds. They have even developed primitive cultures—geographically distinct groups of chimpanzees differ in some behaviors and tool use.[8] Chimpanzees and other great apes who have been taught sign language have exhibited an understanding of complex and abstract meaning, creating their own signs and even teaching others.[9] I have no doubt that animals possess rational capabilities far beyond what we credit them—that in this way, humans and other animals are inextricably connected. Claims that humans are the only thinking beings in this universe are ludicrous.
Why should we even measure worth by intelligence? While man evolved to depend on the intellect, other species developed different and equally impressive adaptations. Can we live deep underground without sunlight, hold our breath for longer than a minute underwater, carry 850 times our body weight [10] or fly? Each animal’s world is so different than any other’s. Our senses and capabilities are functionally incompatible, and we possess highly “different criteria of health and happiness.[11]” How can we assert that we have the “apparatus to understand all others, [12]” to condemn ways of life as inferior, when we cannot even understand their worlds? We are successful in a specialized, human way, and that is all we can be certain of. There is no contest to be won, we are not the best. The only game we can play is that of survival.
Animals have such interesting adaptations, such as this pelican's bill.
When dog owners buy expensive dinners for their pets or chase after their dogs as they run, carefree, in a park, people often ask, “Now, who’s the real master here?” Working at the zoo, we joked about that, too. There were times when I hastily reached up to brush aside my hair with marmoset-jelly [13] covered fingers, trying to cut the pygmies’ meal supplements just so or spilled entire bowls of water down my shirt as I reached for Succotash the sloth’s favorite perch. By the end of the day, my shoes and socks were generally drenched, and I never really wanted to know the nature of all the questionable mud and scratches on my legs. But it was all done to help the animals of Natural Encounters have a better life. Animals need our care—in large part due to hardships we have placed upon them. But this doesn’t mean we are given license to subordinate them. I believe we are all equal. We are all here. We are all just trying to exist. Isn’t that enough? Desiring world superiority, humans have created an extreme hierarchical system, a mindset I believe is unjust. My anthropology textbook even acknowledges that human chauvinism is a hurdle that colors how humans are classified. [14]We are not as unusual as we would like to think. I wish to see myself as less entitled, as simply a co-occupant in this world. In this way I believe we may become less selfish, less self-centered and more focused on pure living.Moreover, if all living things are equal, how much easier does it become to accept all people and attempt to understand different viewpoints and ways of life? “We [must] stop and face what’s right before us. We [must] look at what is.” [15]
Who needs hierarchies?
http://www.closereach.com/sir/talk/hierarchy.jpg
This all sounds pretty out there, right? Communion with nature? Humans as nothing more than animals? People have told me I’m too radical and ridiculous. But what is ever wrong with respect? The answer is clear from all angles. Even if man “has dominion over all things in the world,[16]” as Covey and many others suggest, doesn’t that give us the responsibility to treat the Earth appropriately? Humanity is one trait that is definitively ours—why don’t we use it? Why do we feel the need to qualify our accomplishments and dismiss others’? Understanding animals and their proper place in nature is my passion. I believe that animals cannot be treated better until they are respected and cannot be respected until they are understood. I am a Witness to their lives. I choose to be receptive to their worth, “to remain quiet and open,[17]” to their needs.
This is my truth that sets me free—free from hierarchies, from unreasoned judgments, from boundaries. Impassioned, I hope to teach others my views about animals and initiate respect.
Word count: 1,562
(Without quotes) 1, 538
[1] Kelly Stewart, “Other Nations,” in Kinship with Animals, ed. Kate Solisti and Michael Tobias (San Fransico: Council Oak Books, 2006), 47.
[2] I really liked ‘really’ when I was little. My first grade journal entry written the day after my sister was born said, “my sister is really, really…cute.” Really to the 26th power! Sounds like something straight out of an exorcism to me, but apparently it was my rhetoric strategy of choice.
[3] I read Locke’s Treatises of Government for my seminar class a few weeks ago, and he constantly used capitals while he spoke of “Nature” and “Government” and “Man.” I’m sure it was a standard of his time, but it gave me the sense that he meant business. I am just as serious about my Passion.
[7] My personality type, INTJ, was indeed described as “the Rational.”
[8] Jane Goodall, Through a Window: My Thirty Years with the Chimpanzees of Gombe (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1990), 19.
[9]One chimp Lucy creatively combined signs when she asked for a “listen drink” in place of an Alka-seltzer and invented her own sign for “leash” by hooking her index finger next to her neck, indicating that she wanted to go for a walk. Another chimpanzee who knew sign language, Washoe, was given an infant, Lousli, to raise who was never taught by humans. By the time Lousli was eight, he knew fifty-eight signs! Washoe had been observed teaching Lousli, sometimes by repetition and sometimes by forming Lousli’s hands into the motions. (Goodall, 20-21)
[11] StephenR. L. Clarke, “Understanding Animals,” in Kinship with Animals, ed. Kate Solisti and Michael Tobias (San Francisco: Council Oak Books, 2006), 104.
[13] Marmoset jelly is a supplement used for the pygmy marmosets in Natural Encounters. It’s an odd, gelatinous and messy substance (and it smells really good!)
[14] Robert Boyd and Joan B. Silk. How Humans Evolved: Fifth Edition (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2009), 111.
[15] Ram Dass and Paul Gorman, “How Can I Help? Stories and Reflections on Service,” in Composition and Reading in World Literature, ed. Jerome Bump (Austin: Jenn’s Copies & Binding, 2009), 67.
[16] Stephen R. Covey, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People: Powerful Lessons in Personal Change (New York: Free Press, 2004), 66.
While reading through last night’s assignment, I was struck by how much of our class’ goals were involved. A leader must not only be passionate, but compassionate. She must be empathetic, a good listener, ethical, considerate, cooperative. It gave me the sense that leadership is a collaborative process, at least effectively—that leaders can’t sit in a vacuum contemplating and emerge hours later to boss around their people, that they need others to function appropriately.
Leadership is more than cheesy inspirational posters--although those principles are true.
I have never seen myself as a “true leader.” Sure, I can take charge in class assignments, and I usually want to. I can (and do) boss around my little sister. But you couldn’t force me to make a decision about dinner if you threatened my life. I suppose I want “classic” leadership to be a bigger role in my life. Covey’s philosophy showed me how much of leadership isn’t actually taking charge—something I’m honestly afraid of—but understanding and responding to people’s needs. I believe I could do well under this revised form of leadership as I love helping others, and I think it’s very important for all leaders to understand the role of empathy and compassion in leadership.
Apparently leadership stretches to all parts of life and behavior, even mannerisms.
I still feel that my natural role is to lead by example. I’ve talked about this in my Nam Le discussion, but I am my sister’s role model, no question. She looks up to me, and I constantly hope that I am making a good example. My friend told me just this weekend how alike my sister and I are in ways that I never realized. He said we get excited about new ideas in the same way, argue the same way, get grossed out the same way, point out an equally absurd number of random things whenever we watch movies (like when I watched Godzilla this weekend and noticed that the way the characters were standing looked like the Last Supper!) I thought my range of influence was just teaching her superficial things, like to appreciate the Strokes. I had led her truly by the fact that we lived together for eleven years. I am both nervous and excited about this fact.
My theater director told me that I lead others simply because I am always myself. I felt so honored when I heard that. I suppose this is due to the fact that, like Covey wrote, “90 percent of all leadership failures are character failures.” (Anthology, 240) Where he gets this statistic I’m not sure, but his point is a very valid and interesting one. How can you lead someone effectively when they cannot respect you? And, more importantly, how can you lead someone else if you don’t even understand yourself? “Emotional self-awareness” and “accurate self-assessment” are listed as key leadership competencies in the emotional intelligence appendix. (Anthology 246B) This is further evidence that leadership is a two-way street, that in order to be an effective leader of others you have to effectively ‘lead’ and govern yourself.
Emphasis on the right brain in conjunction with the left is becoming greater.
While my understanding of the word “leadership” has changed somewhat during my readings, the role of leadership is changing due to the emergence of the “Conceptual Age.” (Anthology 158) As Pink wrote, we have traditionally focused on the left hemisphere of the brain, where success in “school, work and business” came about by proficiency in left hemisphere capabilities: “sequence, literalness and analysis.” (Anthology 157) The Conceptual Age is requiring different, more complete standards, and placing more emphasis on the right brain specialties of “artistry, empathy, seeing the big picture and pursuing the transcendent.” (Anthology 158) In tying this discussion board to our last—and hammering our thoughts into unity!—I believe Plan II will enable us to become more competent in this growing, conceptual world. Through the Plan II program we are asked to become Renaissance men and women and become proficient in so many areas. We are still exposed to left brain rigor—my logic class is as left brain as it can come—but we are also entitled to so much more creativity than most of us probably experienced in high school. We are encouraged to carry out things our own way and become independent. To accept and look to all fields and disciplines for guidance. To even become empathetic through UT’s emphasis on becoming global contributors. As the world requires flexibility and creativity, Plan II provides!
My mission statement "becomes [my] personal constitution." (Covey, 129)
As I’ve said before, leadership requires an understanding of the self. During my senior year retreat, we were asked to write promises to ourselves, the equivalent of Covey’s mission statement I suppose. My “mission statement” was simple. It had no roles or goals, but I believe it still adequately captures the essence of what Covey wanted his readers to express. I can only “answer for my own life,” but reading through my mission statements again caused me to reevaluate my “priorities deeply, carefully, and to align [my] behavior to [my] beliefs.” (Covey 129) I will copy my statements here: I Promise… · To make myself happy · To always try to make others happy. To care for them even if it interferes with my own interests · To be successful in whatever way that carries itself out, even if money is not a factor. (Happiness = success) · To love my family unconditionally and constantly · To commit myself to friendships · To have confidence in myself around others · To make a major positive difference in the world · To use my abilities and talents to their fullest and for the benefit of myself and others · That in whatever relationship I am in, I love not only the person but myself · To always be completely and unforgivably myself · To never compromise my beliefs and to accept new ones · To constantly learn and think · To understand or try to · That who I am is who I want to be.
These promises are not complete. They really only talk about my relationships, and there are few if any that relate to my professional future. That’s not truly important. What is is that I may never compromise these promises. These rules for my life should be constant and can help me in leading not only my own life but how I treat and lead others. I would suggest that everyone follow Covey’s instruction and at least think about what their mission statements might be.
Michael Scott's take on Covey's funeral exercise from the Office:
(Michael is often an ineffective leader because he is not self-aware and does not always listen well to his colleagues.)
I applied to 21 colleges. Twenty. One. And only half of them were ones which my mom made me apply to. I had so many options and a ridiculous array of different environments to choose from. Until the very end, I knew that I was going to school on the East Coast. I pictured myself in a huge city, usually New York, up at all hours and amassing life experiences by the minute. I never really considered UT because it was something I had always heard about, and I didn’t see myself going to the ‘state school.’ My counselor told me that if I applied to the University of Texas, I should also consider Plan II. I turned in the application, but, to be honest, I didn’t really even know what it was.
The college application process is daunting in part because we are being presented with too many good choices! Thankfully, I found Plan II, ironically closer to home than anything else I picked!
http://www.flickr.com/photos/joe_13/3667606027/
My senior year, I went to information session after information session after panel discussion to learn as much as I could about the colleges I was considering. By late spring I still had no idea which college drew me the most. One weekend, my mom and I drove up to Austin just to see what Plan II was like—just in case I chose to stay close to home. I absolutely loved what I found here and was most impressed by the students I met when I was brought to sit in on a World Lit class. They made jokes under their breath about the oedipal complex. They were really smart…and so interesting. I surprised myself by making Plan II one of my top choices, even though I still had so many more options to sift through. A few weeks later, I attended a gathering of Houston Plan II prospectives at someone’s home and my inclinations toward the program were enforced. Slowly, I came to realize that Plan II would give me just as many great experiences as the East Coast could and an unmatchable education. I remember turning to my mom late one evening, the one when I was supposed to “decide,” and saying, “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot, and even with all these other schools I really think Plan II might be the perfect place for me…” I am so happy with my decision.
Plan II is an ideal environment by providing a true liberal arts education and a social component. As students of a liberal arts program we are encouraged to find the truth which will set us free, to learn in a very free way without being “absorbed and narrowed” by only acquiring professional knowledge. (Course Anthology 169) Because I am not at all sure of ‘what I want to be when I grow up,’ Plan II will enable me to explore many options. I am excited by the prospect that I may become interested in something that I had never known before or choose a career path that I have not yet considered. For those who are more certain of their future plans, such as Jade, Plan II will allow them to acquire additional life skills which will help them in their career and hold value throughout their life; it will make all of us more whole. As Newman says, the liberal arts education gives its students “an acquired illumination, […] a habit, a personal possession, and an inward endowment.” (167) Plan II encourages students to pursue knowledge for knowledge’s sake and to make learning a constant component of our lives even when we are finished with formal schooling: “education for a life, not a living.” (Dean Parlin, 173I)
Plan II students are enthused by the prospect of education for education's sake, of learning a whole wealth of information and acquiring new skills.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/bomadsen/1214274260/
In addition to strengthening the individual, Plan II aims to create community and global contributors through strengthening social skills. I have already grown to love the Plan II community. The students and professors are all so different and fascinating but are united by a common intellectual goal and shared class experiences. By developing this “intimate community among students,” (173 J) Plan II is able to create an environment easily conducive to discussion and the pursuit of knowledge. By listening and participating in the discussions for only a few weeks in my seminar class, I have already seen how much I may learn from my fellow classmates. The connections I will form with my fellow classmates will transcend my time at UT, not only in forming lasting friendships but in teaching me that most learning may be done in the outside world, through speaking and interacting with others. By presenting its students with a wide range of information, Plan II gives students the ‘big picture’ and encourages “paideia—education for active citizenship.” Through reading about accomplishments and talking with people in Plan II, I know that Plan II students have been around the world and in all fields of discipline, learning and contributing to our world.
One way our experiences through Plan II may help “[connect] information to the ‘real world,’” (184) is through experiential learning. Plan II is by design a very hands-on sort of program. We are encouraged to choose what interests us, to engage in active discussions in our seminars, and to delve into great detail through our senior theses[1]. Experiential learning is valuable not only because it is more entertaining than rote education but because it is more lasting. Experiential learning allows students to learn in their own way, by making “personal connections” and using both sides of their brains. (184) When Plan II students have finished their education, they will be able to not only remember the information they have learned but to apply that style of learning to the rest of their lives.
The Magic School Bus is a prime example of experiential learning!
After reading the passages, I was reminded yet again of why I chose Plan II. The experiential learning component and unique curricula will allow me to explore my options and grow not only as a student but as a person
Mere Katherine A Journey to Find Myself in the Animal World
“Why do you say ‘Feather’ so often?” Alice asked at last, rather vexed. “I’m not a bird!” “You are,” said the Sheep: “You’re a little goose.” Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There, p. 203
**Footnotes are at the end.
I clicked the play button under the course documents menu, and the audio began. And my quest began. And I wondered when the drum beats would ever stop! When I was told to find a crevice to fall into, I instantly imagined Tom Sawyer’s Island at Disneyland, the one filled with treehouses and secret underground passages. Natural? Maybe not. I could see the Haunted Mansion across the lake in the background and people moving en masse to all corners of the park or no spot in particular. Some stopped to watch the elaborate white paddlewheel boat, the Mark Twain, turn around a corner in the lake. Disneyland wasn’t why I was there, however. I turned and descended the sandy steps of the entrance to the cave (holding onto the handrail), watched my head at the low entryway, and walked on through a tunnel that was impossibly long into the “proverbial light.” (Animal quest audio)
I emerged in a quite different place, a forest I later realized was the one my cousins and I had visited in Maumee Bay, Ohio. The forest was quiet and primeval, reminiscent of a time when “humanity recognized itself as part of nature, and nature as part of itself.” (Anthology 415) Sunlight struggled to light the ground, blocked by a cover of leaves, and even more leaves covered the forest floor. They crunched beneath my feet as I walked, and insects of all kinds scattered with every step, in all directions. I wondered for a moment if they were my power animal. But I am neither the ant nor the grasshopper. I continued to walk. Moments later a rabbit emerged to my left. He stopped, startled—as did I—and lifted his head cautiously to sniff my leg. I didn’t reach out to him as I normally would have but stood still instead, waiting for us to grow comfortable with each other. That rabbit stayed with me until the end of the animal quest. I suppose he was my totem animal.
But the suppose was a big deal. I like rabbits, I suppose. I could identify with them, I suppose, if I thought about it long enough. But I didn’t want to suppose, I wanted to know. Animals have been such a big part of life: there had to be an animal which had chosen me, and “not the other way around,” (Anthology 417) one that would come to me as I thought about it now, not in a forced audio, the drums beating out decide.decide.decide!
I decided I needed to go on my own animal quest, through my experiences at Natural Encounters, a place filled with animals that have shaped my life. I worked with so many in Natural Encounters: tropical birds, long-necked turtles, African ground squirrels so fast you’d swear they were supersonic, an armadillo obsessed with feet. It was going to be very hard to find my totem animal when so many comparisons could be made: Well, there are those four-eyed fish, and I have glasses, so maybe…that could work? But there were some animals in particular that came to mind.
Clarke was one of my favorites. He lived in Holding [1], aged beyond reason—a slow slow loris. I loved the days I got to feed him, holding out soaked monkey biscuits and fruits one by one. With intense concentration, he worked out his strategy each time…raised his hand…..…and grabbed for it! He then eased himself back into his perch, like a favorite armchair, and munched on his snacks with both hands. With his graying, buzzed fur, he reminded me of a retired army general—but he was not my totem animal.
The other primates were so human (as much as I try not to anthropomorphize) that it would be too difficult to call them my totem animal. I could sense them watching every move I made as I worked in the back area of the rainforest. They were indelibly curious. Whenever I interacted with them, unlike with the other animals, I didn’t smile. It would have profaned the experience. I can still remember the douricouli brothers, side-by-side as they always were, their faces, ridiculously overdrawn like mimes’, asking the question, “Who are you?”
And that is the question, isn’t it? Who am I? Or, for the purposes of this, who am I at the zoo? Who do I resonate with? “When [I] visit the zoo, which animal do [I] wish to visit the most or first?” (Anthology 416) And that, the final question, was it—a meerkat!
One bench—the right one—in front of the meerkat exhibit is my favorite spot at the Houston Zoo. I could literally spend afternoons there, watching the goings-on of Houston’s meerkat mob.[2] I love watching the sentry[3] who alerts the mob whenever a hawk or helicopter comes into view, laughing at those lounging and fighting in the sun, watching the progression of tunnels. These are my totem animals.
An obvious statement but a necessary one needs to be made. I am not a meerkat. We are not even very similar, but I suppose that’s not the true purpose of a totem animal. They are meant to augment your life not mirror it. A study of an animal’s talents can reveal “the kind of medicine, magic, and power it can help you to develop within your own life.” (Anthology 417) In my study of the meerkat’s talents, I looked to their behavior, their “meerkat manner” if you will, as a guide to understanding myself. (And I promise I won’t make any references to one particular meerkat from a certain Disney movie we all know and love[4]!)
Meerkats are very social animals. They’re altruistic, looking out for one another, taking turns standing guard and watching the young. I am not as social as the meerkats are, at least not as constantly social. Maybe that’s why I like watching them so much. It is from seeing them interact that I can draw strength and remind myself how much I need and want people in my life. Sometimes it is all too easy to feel like you’re not one of the “mob” or resign yourself to the fact that you don’t need to be—in all honesty, though, the importance of social interaction to the meerkats is just the same for me. Like the meerkats I need to feel like I’m a part of something: I came to find my theater and a cappella groups in high school as my extended family, and I’m already looking forward to how close our class will grow to be.
Whenever I would watch the meerkat community, it sprawled like a metropolis. Some were slouched up against the shaded wall, one was presumably at the top of the termite mound scanning the skies, others fought, chattering excitedly and tumbling across the dirt—still others were out of sight in their system of tunnels[5]. Meerkats burrow for protection and sleep in their tunnels at night. Whenever the sentry sees danger, he alerts the mob which scampers into the tunnels for protection. I have seen this whenever a particularly loud airplane flies over the zoo, an average afternoon instantly interrupted by a mad dash to the tunnels. Although I prefer to explore as the meerkats do, and spend my days playing or working hard in the outside world, I still will always have my “burrows” to go back to: my home and my rationality. I know my family will always support me, through all circumstances—in that way they are my constant protection, and I am very grateful. I also protect myself with an at times annoyingly persistent practical side, the “Are you sure you should be going out? You have work to do…”
Disclaimer: The following comment is a bit immature, but I felt it needed to be said—or maybe I just wanted it to be said. Bear with me. Meerkats have latrines, a communal restroom. It always made cleaning up so much simpler with everything lumped together. Do you see where I’m going with this? I keep all my problems, the bad, the stress and frustrations—the crap—in one place too. I tend to bottle my emotions and ignore problems, sometimes never addressing the big problems at all! This is a problem in itself, but it seems to be working out for the meerkats…
Another problem I identify with the meerkats is overgrooming. I don’t mean worrying over my appearance too much—obviously, as the amount of contact-less and careless days I’ve already compiled my first weeks of college can show you! But if you look carefully at some of the meerkats in the mob, you can see that bits of their tails are missing so that some don’t end in a point but abruptly. Guests would always ask us what had happened to them. Their mother[6] had simply groomed them too much, had paid them too much attention, when they were younger. Like their mother, my mother has always been well-intentioned, but I have been, at times, overgroomed. When I was younger, I liked to spend a lot of time at home. While I was always pushed to excel, I was never really pushed out of the house. I am glad I found a sense of adventure on my own. Starting college, I now realize how much more I need to learn. (The laundry, for instance, was a big one, but I love doing it now!) More seriously though, I have discovered how much I can improve. In writing and study habits, in taking care of myself and remembering to eat when I have work to do, and in making friends—and a new life.
Whenever I think of meerkats, I imagine the sentries. Their focus and stamina, their uncompromised gaze, is an image of strength. While the other meerkats are relaxing or playing, foraging or digging, they look above. They are utterly focused. I feel that sometimes in the way that I look at the future, as open as the skies. I have such big ideas about what I want to accomplish and am determined to accomplish them all. I stand on duty for my future, looking into the above, into the exciting unknown—with, of course, my precautionary sunglasses, like the meerkat’s black circled eyes[7]. Other times, though, I am the other meerkats: hard at work, playing with the others and occasionally lying out in the sun for a much needed nap.
Word count: 1996 (without quotes)
Works Cited Bump, Jerome, ed. Composition and Reading in World Literature Anthology. Austin: Jenn's Copy & Binding , 2009. Carroll, Lewis. Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There (from The Annotated Alice). New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 2000. Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. September 5, 2009. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meerkat (accessed September 21, 2009).
Footnotes [1] Where animals not on display were kept in Natural Encounters [2] “A group of meerkats is called a mob, gang or clan. A meerkat clan often contains about 20 meerkats at a time, but some superfamilies have had 50 or more.” (courtesy of wikipedia.org) My first year at Natural Encounters, there were 14 adults, but I think it’s grown much larger since then. [3] The meerkat on guard duty. They stand on their hind legs and scan the skies looking for danger. Sentry duty is approximately one hour long. (Wikipedia.org) [4] Interestingly enough, I identify with warthogs, too. Once I was at the Fort Worth Zoo with my mom when it began pouring. She and I were quickly walking past the exhibits, when we stopped at the warthog’s. He was running in crisscrosses across the exhibit, splashing in the mud and clearly enjoying the rain. We stayed there to watch him even while we were getting drenched. It was an example of pure and spontaneous joy, and since then I’ve loved warthogs. Warthogs and meerkats…what a coincidence! [5] The tunnel systems at the Houston Zoo are very elaborate and done entirely by the meerkat colony, but they are never able to last for very long. Whenever I worked with the meerkats, I had to become an amateur meteorologist, constantly scanning the radars for impending rain. If it looked like it was coming overnight, we’d have to stomp down and re-shovel all of the dirt to prevent tunnels from caving in and drowning any of them. I felt awful doing it, a barbarian razing an innocent town, but nevertheless the meerkats always went right back to digging the next morning. [6] All meerkats in a mob (should) have the same mother, the alpha-female. [7] Meerkats have black patches around their eyes which work like football player’s stripes to deflect the sun’s rays.
First of all, I love everybody's road maps! I think this project is really great in not only being able to define and present ourselves, but to learn so much about other people! All you guys are amazing, and I'm so glad we're all in the same class!!
Sharad (P.S. I'm having technical difficulties with print screens from Windows Media. Is there a better way to get stills from videos? Aaggh I wanted to paste in pictures of all of yours, but it wasn't working out...!!)
You kind of reminded me of a chameleon, when you were talking about your personality changing when coming to America!
Sharad, I really think it's interesting how sort of transient you let your character be. It's really cool. You mentioned in your speech, I think, how you love traveling because you can take bits of other cultures that you like and apply them to your own life. You also mentioned how, "like an actor," you changed from an athletic and social child in India to a more scholastic and introverted boy in America. I think it will prove very valuable to you to be able to be so flexible and adaptable to changes in your life. (I also thought the pictures of monkeys were very cute, even though you said they were sometimes scary. I could see how them being around all the time might get annoying though!)
Callie
Yay, I got Callie's picture to work! Here's her picture about camp.
Callie, I think it's really great that you had so many constants in your life: Smokey, Snickers, camp and your friend Caroline. There were a lot of my friends in Houston who went to camp every summer, and it seems like such a great thing! I also liked reading about your older brothers! I have always wanted one, pretty much for the reasons you said! It seems like you have a really nice family (and it's exciting that your mom was a barrel racer!) I also thought Smokey and Snickers and your two new cats were adorable!
Emily
I couldn't get yours to work, and I was so sad! I wanted to see pictures of your "crazy Chow" family! I think my computer's just dumb, it loaded forever and kept freezing up... : ( Hopefully I can get it to work later!
I really liked reading about your family back in South Korea. My mom grew up in a neighborhood where she was right across the street from her aunts and a block away from her grandmother, and I always wanted that. I think it's really nice how you were able to grow up with your mom's side of the family, especially practically being raised by your grandmother. My grandmother was also one of twelve, so we've got big families in common. Although I have never been able to experience huge family gatherings like you described in your speech (with your dad's side of the family), my dad spent his summers in Michigan with his extended family too. He has so many cousins!
Maysie
A picture of her grandparents. She talked a lot about her family in the video.
This is going to sound weird Maysie, but your video inspired me! It made me want to get out and go do something exciting---and the music was really good too! I really liked how you talked about all the different pieces of your family. It's so great that you have so many different and positive influences. I also think it's interesting that you're so different from your mom. My mom and I are practically the same personality, and I can see influences of my dad's personality in myself as well. I think it's ultimately a good thing that you have someone so different so present in your life because you can each influence each other--as complements.
Jade
Jade had a lot of family pictures in the video! I think her family seems wonderful!
Jade, you were an adorable baby! Seriously, your whole video made me smile--your family seems so nice! (And the music was really relaxing, too!) I thought it was interesting that, like Maysie, you and your mom are complete opposites. I think it's wonderful that your mom and sister have helped you to come out of your shell. It seems like your family is filled with such positive influences. I really enjoyed learning about your volunteer experiences as well, especially how you said the stories you learn volunteering become a part of who you are as well. I love volunteering too!
Thuyen, I was really inspired by your story. I liked learning about your culture, and I think it's great that you got to go back to Vietnam after all those years! I also thought it was really interesting that you found two such very different passions in your life: with sports and art. Who knows, maybe there are so many other things you don't even know about that you'll excel at! I love how your video showcased how driven and fun-loving you are.
Jose
The kookaburra!
First of all, I thought your speech was really good, Jose, and thank you for making me almost cry laughing so hard about the kookaburra clip. (And happy belated birthday!) I really liked the deep connection you seem to feel with animals. They're a very important part of my life as well, like they seem to be in yours. I also thought it was very interesting how you have such different career choices. Even though you said they were conflicted interests, I think both follow with the sense of "duty" you said you have. Caring for animals, like we did at the Zoo, takes so much. We had a duty toward them because their lives were in our hands.
