Dear Columbia Community,
It’s no secret that the current state of our campus—and our country—can seem intimidating, disheartening, and hopeless. It’s easy to spiral into pessimism and eventual apathy when there are so many issues that so urgently demand your attention. As educators, we might easily assume that we should step up as authority figures, or that we should be equipped with answers and solutions at every turn. Our most essential position, however, is that of the ally of the next generation—supporting and uplifting the future of this country rather than dismissing or dictating their perspectives. In this sense, Columbia faculty have just as much to learn from the brilliant students at this university as the students have to learn from us. We should never disregard our responsibility to listen to and learn from the people who make Columbia so special.
For example, last Saturday evening, I was illuminated by the wisdom of a Columbia student in the most unexpected of ways. While appreciating the inspiring beauty of the Morningside campus as the sun was setting, I decided to stop in at JJ’s Place for a quick bite to eat before journeying back to my residence. When I reached the stairs at the entrance of John Jay, I saw a line of patient students leading all the way down to the first floor. I chose to seek out the perspective of one exceptional student in line, asking them if they were there for dine-in or express. “Express,” they answered. I was trying to dine in, so I began to make my way down the steps to enter the dine-in line. “It’s just one line,” the student said, as I started around the corner. “What,” I said, even though I had heard him. He reiterated, “Dine-in and express are all one line.”
“That doesn’t make any sense at all,” I replied, “you guys are all going one by one, I literally just want to get in the building and eat an omelet. I have to wait until you guys all get your four items to get in there?” “I mean, kind of,” he responded, “they’ll like, call out for dine-in people, I think.” This didn’t sit right with me. “You obviously don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you know who I am?” I said before continuing down towards the JJ’s door.
However, when I opened it and told the employee that I was dining in, she yelled at me, and then I had to go back up the stairs like an idiot. It was the most humbling moment of my life. I should have heeded the advice of the students, as they are among our greatest resources.
That’s only one of the many lessons I have learned from the talented student body at Columbia. One time a rando by the Sundial told me that they were giving out Red Bull by the Broadway gates, and while I was skeptical, I walked by and, lo and behold, a ridiculously attractive young person gave me a free zero sugar Red Bull from a large novelty vehicle. Last fall, I was struggling to figure out how to play split-screen Fortnite on the switch. While the young woman who I approached unfortunately informed me that you can’t do that, she did teach me how to play Marvel Rivals, and for that I owe her a debt of gratitude.
It’s tempting to conform to the convention that professors are the providers of knowledge and students are the beneficiaries, but our relationship is much more mutual, much more valuable, and much more beautiful than this. We, as a campus community, are learning with and from each other, navigating these unprecedented challenges together.
