Saturday, September 13, 2014

Education Done Right? – Part I: Actual Learning



I drove home from the Valencia Osceola Campus Tuesday night in a state of near euphoria. I teach one class as an adjunct there after my office hours for UCF. I had just finished our third Ethics and Critical Thinking class meeting with my Valencia students.

It was absolutely inspiring.  As I plowed through a terrific storm along the Turnpike headed back to Orlando, I wondered what it is about this experience that I love so much.

Great Questions

The class had been an energized, intense 3 hours. We had ended the night with an exercise involving a professor’s ethical dilemma. It featured a student trying to maintain her GPA to get into law school who misses a deadline on a final paper and asks for an extension. She claimed she was unavoidably taken out of town to attend the funeral of a dear aunt. She also argued that she needed an A in the class to keep her GPA high enough to get into law school.

As I told my students last night, in my experience this is hardly a hypothetical.

The students were required to individually assess the dilemma and write their own evaluation of it. Then as groups they were required to come to consensus as to what the professor should do and report back to the class as a whole. The discussion was impassioned and well considered. A lot of possible considerations were raised:

  • Should everyone have the opportunity for extra credit?
  • What about the students who worked hard to attain their A without extra credit? What does a grade mean in the light of the extra credit when many people could make an A?
  • How do we know the student is being truthful about why she missed the deadline? Should we require proof?
  • Did the student have any obligations to contact the professor before missing the deadline and not two days later?
  • What kind of precedent does this set for the professor’s classes?
  • What kind of pattern might this reinforce in the student?

These are excellent questions. They are the kind of questions students and faculty alike should consider in such situations. But what was more important about this is that the students themselves came up with them. They did not sit blankly staring at a screen waiting for the teacher to give them “the answer” while glancing at the clock. They generated them in group discussions and passionately debated them. They were engaged. Indeed, they were alive. It was magical.

This is actual learning at work.

But it’s more than just that. By the end of the night, I felt my hard work in planning this class had paid off, my efforts in executing it had been rewarded, my investment had been appreciated by my students, my role as their teacher respected. Not only was this learning at work, this was also actual teaching at work.

As I thought about my experience at Valencia, I asked myself what seems like some obvious questions: What is it about my experience at Valencia that is so different from my experience at the university? Why do I enjoy the former so readily and struggle to deal with the latter? What could the latter learn from the former about higher education?

There is a History

Before addressing those questions, I think intellectual honesty requires noting the contextual differences of my engagement of these two institutions.

While I have been at the university for 12 years now, I have a history at Valencia-Osceola that precedes my time there. I spent five years at Valencia-Osceola right out of my doctoral program in Tallahassee and left there to go to UCF. It was a difficult decision to leave and one I have occasionally second guessed since then. In retrospect I think it’s clear that my opportunities were greater by coming to the university as I had thought and I believe I am a far better teacher as a result. On the other hand, I never completely let go of my ties to Osceola and was welcomed back like the Prodigal Son when I returned to adjunct there a couple of years ago. For that I am immensely grateful.

I also must note that I am not full-time at Valencia. My salary and my health insurance do not depend upon my adjunct work there. For at least the time being, I am not a Freeway Flier. I do not have to attend the endless meetings that I remember from my experience there. I am only minimally impacted by the assessment procedures that are the obsession of many public education administrators and politicians today. I come to the college one night a week, visit my old buddies, check in with my department, spend some time with students before and after class (they actually can come to my university office hours on that campus prior to class), teach my class and go home.

No muss, no fuss.

Institutional Cultures

But there are some institutional cultural differences that are markedly in contrast between these two institutions which I believe explain much. The Valencia campus where I teach is still relatively small. It’s 11,000 students (out of 43,000 total on five campuses) pale in comparison to the 62,000 at the university. Its campus, confined to four good sized structures, a bell tower and a lake, could easily fit into one small corner of the university’s sprawling campus.

Valencia-Osceola lies on busy US 192 between what were once two sleepy citrus and cattle towns which long ago were swallowed up by suburban sprawl and mass migration from Latin America. But the campus retains its small town ethos.

Size makes a major difference in an institution’s self-understanding and interaction between its members. Contrary to the credo of the university, bigger is NOT always better. As size increases, tendencies toward impersonal relations, competitiveness and alienation increase correspondingly. It’s very easy to get lost in the shuffle of what is essentially a medium sized city.

Unlike the veritable black hole of bureaucracy students and staff must negotiate at the university, on a small campus like Valencia-Osceola it’s easy for all members of the community to know where to go and who you need to see. It is also helpful that Osceola consciously fosters an atmosphere of concern and cooperation that begins with students and extends to members of the staff as well. Much like its large Latin population, Osceola sometimes seems like an extended family.

Small classes make it easy for students to actually get to know those with whom they attend classes and those who teach them at the college. One of the most heartwarming aspects of teaching at Valencia is watching the students leaving the night of the final, saying goodbye to each other and scribbling email addresses and telephone numbers for classmates with whom they wish to keep in touch. Community seems to spontaneously generate itself in these small classes on this small campus, no small irony given the fact it is completely non-residential.  

Valencia intentionally caps most courses at 25 and its writing courses at 20. It is actually possible to get to know one’s students in small classes and for them to get to know each other. It is possible to hold thoughtful discussions and not lose the back half of a large classroom (or an auditorium) to social media. While Valencia does offer online sections of many courses, most classes are held face-to-face with the presumption that students need the personal attention to thrive. From my experience, that’s pretty much on target for most students.

Perhaps more importantly, because of the limited class sizes it is actually possible for instructors to read what students write in such courses and offer feedback that is worth considering. That’s particularly important given the writing deficiencies many of these students begin with (many of them writing in a second language). It’s also a way to offer insights to students who may not be able to come to office hours because of work and family obligations.

Because the classes are small enough to get to know your students, it is also possible for instructors to tailor their courses in ethics so that they might actually serve their students’ hoped-for careers in nursing, law, business, architecture and make those connections in class discussions, feedback and one-on-one talks with students. In short, it is possible in intentionally limited enrollment classes for teachers to actually teach (not merely present information) and for students to actually learn (not merely regurgitate it upon demand).

That is hardly an accident.

Valencia sees its mission as being a place for excellent teaching and learning and it has the awards to show for it. While teaching and learning is obviously somewhere on the list of priorities at an ambitious corporate university intent on insuring its “brand” is well known, it is the primary focus of Valencia. Perhaps that is why a person like me, who defines myself as a teacher and values my role as mentor to my students and public scholar to the community at large, finds the institutional culture at the college a breath of fresh air and struggles to keep my head above water at the university.

But it is not only me for whom this difference in institutional culture matters

What always strikes me when I come through the faculty offices to say hello to my old  buddies or to make my copies in the departmental offices before class is how friendly and helpful people are. The first time I heard “How can I help you?” at the college, I honestly didn’t remember how to respond. I rarely hear that at the megauniversity where “You’re on your own” is the operating presumption.

But this was not simply opening night party manners. The willingness to assist faculty in their work is a consistent mark of the institutional culture at this college on a mission. That collaborative spirit is generally reflected in congenial relationships among the faculty there.

Suffice it to say, it is a very, very different reality at the university.

[Continued]

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The Rev. Harry Scott Coverston, J.D., M.Div. Ph.D.
Member, Florida Bar (inactive status)
Priest, Episcopal Church (Dio. of El Camino Real, CA)
Instructor: Religion and Cultural Studies,
Osceola Campus, University of Central Florida, Kissimmee
Adjunct Instructor: Valencia College-Osceola


If the unexamined life is not worth living, surely an unexamined belief system, be it religious or political, is not worth holding.
Most things of value do not lend themselves to production in sound bytes. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Sunday, September 07, 2014

Reflections at 61 Years of Age – Part II: The Wheel Turns

The Wheel of Life Turns

            I look at the world and I notice it’s turning….while my guitar gently weeps.
            (The Beatles, The White Album, 1968)

I am genetically predisposed to be a teacher, the great grandchild of people named Reed and Wright. I am the fourth generation of educators in my family, second generation of college instructors. Much of my life has been shaped by my vocation as a teacher. Education has never been a mere job for me, it has always been my primary life calling along with callings to be an advocate in the pursuit of justice for all beings and to live a life rooted in spirituality.

LBJ Congressional Intern, Summer 1977

Today I find myself in a very different academy than the one I entered in 1997 as an A.B.D. still working on my dissertation. Indeed, I am rarely even in a classroom. My courses are now “delivered” online, taught from the other end of a computer screen. Far too much of my time these days is spent wrestling with flakey computer programs (when I can actually get into the overcrowded systems) whose ongoing technical problems I am ill-prepared to diagnose and manage. 

There are many aspects of this that aren’t so bad. I enjoy being able to look out my windows at my beautiful jungle yard and work in my gym shorts and tee shirts with my dogs and cats around my feet. I do not miss the drive to campus to hunt for a $200/year parking space that may or may not exist. And I do not miss the constant tension of campus politics and the stress of working on the floor of a veritable factory mass producing work credentials. (It’s worth noting that none of these pluses actually have anything to do with teaching – they are extrinsic benefits).  
Practicing attorney, Orlando, 1985-90


But I do miss the interaction with live human beings. Indeed, unless my students come to the office hours I voluntarily hold on my own nickel ($5/day parking each time I come to main campus), I will never know what they even look like, much less who they are as human beings. I also miss the occasional talks with my colleagues on those increasingly rare occasions when they can let their hair down long enough to actually be fully present.

I Mourn Alone

Where I sense that the wheel of life has turned and left me behind is when I realize that my vision of what higher education should be about and the values it should embody is increasingly not the vision shared by most of the people around me. That is particularly true of those who have the power to make decisions that impact my professional life and those of my colleagues and students.


Farewell fiesta, Las Guabitas, Panama (hour north of Panama City), Summer 1994
I resist the commodification processes that seek to measure teaching and learning in contrived, burdensome and usually meaningless ways but which produce mountains of empirical data that allow an ever burgeoning army of administrators and their technocrats to sleep well at night. I have never adjusted to the practice of jamming 50-75 students into classes in which I will never be able to learn all their names, much less offer thoughtful feedback on all their papers. And I increasingly resist the never ending demands for service on revolving door search committees seeking the next round of visiting line instructors to be underpaid, used up and discarded. 

Latin American Humanities, Osceola Campus, Valencia 2000

 But the university staff is not the only party which has changed. Most of the students I encounter today are almost exclusively focused on the attainment of working credentials in the most expeditious and least demanding ways possible. Ultimately I do not blame them for this. They have been well trained to see themselves largely as consumers with a sense of entitlement to dictate everything from workload to grading to feedback, an entitlement that is readily rewarded through their adept use of student ratings and grievance processes.
Latin American Humanities Final (the Food Unit), December 20111

 While I will always cherish the many fine students whose lives I have been privileged to engage over the years, some of whom continue to seek me out online and during office hours, I find the bottom-liner, entitled consumers I mostly encounter today anathema.

What is even more troubling is that from my regular reading of journals and sites regarding higher education, I realize that my experiences are not the exception, they are largely the rule in academia today. I mourn the death of the academy I once knew or at least had the luxury of dreaming actually existed.

But increasingly, I largely find myself mourning alone.  

Not Enough Serenity to Accept “What it is.”

A couple of years ago I witnessed one of the most troubling events of my entire academic career. A candidate for a position in our department was giving a teaching demonstration to one of our classes held in a large teaching auditorium. The instructor had forgotten the date and had scheduled an exam for that day. Students came to class expecting a test only to find there was a visitor giving a lecture.

Over half of them stormed out of the auditorium, slamming the doors behind them, many beginning loud cell phone conversations before they even reached the doors. Those that remained made no effort to hide the fact they were reading Facebook and playing games with their laptops and tablets. That included some of my colleagues. Virtually no one was paying attention.

I was absolutely mortified. To begin with I felt incredible sympathy for the candidate we had just abused. No one deserves treatment like that. But even more pointedly I was incredibly embarrassed for our department and our university. We had just pulled an incredibly juvenile stunt at the expense of a guest we had invited. In addition to the complete inconsideration this performance demonstrated, it revealed what a mediocre-at-best institution we operate.

A longtime colleague sitting near me saw my distress and simply responded, “It is what it is.” And, sadly, in the two years that I have had to think about this, I have come to recognize that that this event probably does largely reflect the state of affairs at the institution where I work and very possibly most incarnations of at least public higher education in America today.
Mother's Birthday, VA Cemetery, 2014


After meditating all summer on Reinhold Niebuhr’s serenity prayer, beloved by 12 step groups around the world, I am realizing that, unlike my colleague, I do not think I will be able to find the serenity to accept this vision of “what it is” nor will my courage alone be enough to change that reality. The wisdom that I am left with is the realization that I am not OK with this new reality and despite my best efforts, I am not sure I can ever become OK with it.

The wheel of life has turned and I am left behind.

Where Do I Go From Here?

These days I find myself pondering where my life is headed. Though my knee slows me down and I have a lot less energy than I had at even 50, I am hardly ready for the rocking chair on the porch much less the wheel chair with the drip bag at the Happy Valley Home. More importantly, like the true blue Boomer that I am – who, unlike my yuppie cohorts, did not sell out to self-focused neo-conservatism -  I still want to do my part in making the world a better place than the one I inherited some 61 years ago. And I remain hopeful enough to still believe that might be possible.

Uncle Harry baptizing nephew,
Cary Savage, 1999


I want to believe there is a place where I can bring my wide educational background and my wealth of life experience to bear in undertakings among people who will both benefit from what I offer them and actually appreciate the work I am willing to do on their behalf. I want to bring all of who I am – intellectual, emotional, ethical, spiritual, physical, personal, experiential – to bear in this effort.  And I am vain enough to believe that I may have actually developed a modicum of wisdom to offer those willing to consider it.

I want my remaining time and energy to matter. The questions remaining are simply where, when and how.

As I pondered the wisdom of being so self-revealing this rainy Saturday afternoon, I found myself drawn to a song I love from Evita. While it refers to the pending death of a cancer-stricken Eva Peron in Buenos Aires, I find myself asking the same questions about my own life that Evita poses here in You Must Love Me:

Where do [I] go from here?
This isn't where [I] intended to be
I had it all, you believed in me
I believed in you

Certainties disappear
What do [I] do for [my] dreams to survive?
How do [I] keep all [my] passions alive,
As I used to do?

Clearly, I am not the only human being to stand at the brink, watching the turning of the wheel and wonder what life holds for me. Indeed, one of the videos that came up along with this one from Evita comes from the track of Disney’s movie Pocahantas. Its lyrics  seemed even more on point:

My world has changed and so have I
I've learned to choose
And even learned to say goodbye
The path ahead's so hard to see
It winds and bends but where it ends
Depends on only me

In my heart I don't feel part of so much I've known
Now it seems it's time to start,
A new life on my own

But where do I go from here?
So many voices ringing in my ear
Which is the voice that I was meant to hear?
How will I know?
Where do I go from here?

Where, indeed?

And so on this first week of my 62d year of life, I give thanks for 61 very eventful years, for an unpredictable life of wonderful people and numerous opportunities to grow and become the person I am today. I look forward to what life will bring me this next year, albeit with no small amount of disquietude, as the wheel of life turns once again.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The Rev. Harry Scott Coverston, J.D., M.Div., Ph.D.
Member, Florida Bar (inactive status)
Priest, Episcopal Church (Dio. of El Camino Real, CA)
Lecturer: Religion and Cultural Studies
University of Central Florida, Osceola Campus, Kissimmee


 If the unexamined life is not worth living, surely an unexamined belief system, be it religious or political, is not worth holding.
Most things of value do not lend themselves to production in sound bytes. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


Reflections at 61 Years of Age – Part I: Gratitude

This past Monday I celebrated the completion of my 61st year of life. I spent the day doing mostly what I wanted – working in the yard with my husband who helped me erect the replacement arch over the front entrance to the jungle. After a badly needed cool shower, I crawled into our oh-so-comfortable bed for a little reading (currently it is a wonderful work by Franciscan Richard Rohr) until I nodded off for a nap with my dachshund, Oscar, under my arm. I awoke to birthday greetings by phone messages, email messages and a tidal wave of Facebook messages. I found myself weeping with gratitude as I read them all.

It was a wonderful day.

Gratitude Abounds

Mother, brother David and I, 1955, Sebring
Cousin John Coverston and I at Florida Youth
Conservation Camp, Ocala National Forest, 1961

 When I look at my 61 years of life and where I am today, I find that I am more than satisfied with almost every aspect of it. I resist the tendency to engage in what I see as smarmy evangelical speak and say “I am blessed,” which suggests that somehow I’m special to G-d and those who are struggling somehow aren’t. In truth, Calvinist election theology has never made much sense to me at all. Even so, there are many aspects of my life that I do experience as blessings, many of them unexpected and unearned, and for which I am thankful to a gracious G-d who makes the rain to fall on the just and the unjust alike. 



Sister Carole Savage, Husband, Andy Mobley
New Coverleigh, rebuilt from rubble of Hurricane Charley
I am grateful for a wonderful husband of now four years and my life partner of 40 years. I am grateful for our beautiful home that we rebuilt from the rubble left by Hurricane Charley 10 years ago and the lush jungle garden surrounding it to putter in. I am grateful for a houseful of healthy animal companions who remind us of what it means to be fully human. And I look around to see the many the cherished artifacts I’ve collected from travels around the world and an entire room full of books on subjects ranging from law to religion to education, the disciplines to which I have devoted my life.

Uncle Harry with the world's best niece, Grace Coverston

                                                                 
Birthday celebration, Cheesecake Factory, Aug. 30, 2014

I am ever so grateful to have a loving immediate family within an hour and a half drive who came together last Saturday for a wonderful birthday dinner at the Cheesecake Factory here in Winter Park. I am also thankful for my extended family, my cousins and the two remaining siblings of my parents, both now nonagenarians, all of whom I don’t get to see as often as I wished.

I am thankful for my warm parish family at St. Richards Episcopal where I received my birthday blessings on Sunday and whose bulletin congratulated Andy and I on our fourth wedding anniversary. And I am particularly grateful for the many bright, creative and loving friends who enrich my life and have continued to love me and encourage me even in my darkest moments. I have always prided myself on having the best friends in the world and I feel very lucky to call each one friend.

Magdalena and my Nanny Henrietta icon

Among the presents I received on my birthday were some very kind words from former and current students. At a time in my life where I doubt my value to the institution where I work and experience my ongoing presence there as very tenuous, I cannot tell you how much I appreciated those posts and emails. They were the presents I cherished the most.





Daisy Beagle and Oscar Dachshund

I am grateful for decent health at this point in my life journey. The frenetic pace I’ve maintained most of my life has slowed a bit due to a torn meniscus in my left knee that can be quite painful at times and about 20 more pounds than I need to be carrying. My hypertension is kept under control by a low level ACE inhibitor medication but the diuretic means I spend more time at the urinal these days than I’d like. But, considering the alternatives, I think I’m pretty much OK. And I’m grateful for that.

Rarely a Dull Moment

South Sumter High School, Class of 1971


In all honesty, I have achieved much of what I want to achieve in life – three graduate degrees, a vast range of experiences from life on Capitol Hill to life in a village in the developing world with no running water or electricity, and a number of awards, certifications and recognitions along the way. My life has been eventful, momentous, sometimes tumultuous but inevitably interesting. There has rarely been a dull moment or many chances to even catch my breath. While my bank accounts and material assets would not suggest I am particularly wealthy in terms that are valued in this largely materialist culture, my life has been very rich indeed.


Sophomore, Lake-Sumter Community College 1973





I recognize that I have been the beneficiary of a great deal of good fortune in life, most of which I had little to do with. This began by being the winner of the genetic lottery at birth, born to intelligent, educated and loving parents in a professional middle class home. But I have also worked hard all of my life to realize my potential and to call others to do the same.

With Dr. Leo Sandon, major professor at Ph.D.
graduation, Florida State University 2000






I had always believed that at this point my life would be largely settled, that I would be where I needed to be, offering my final contributions to making the world a slightly better place than the one I inherited in 1953. Until recently, I had labored under the romantic belief that I would never retire, that I’d keel over in a classroom at some point and as the paramedics carried me out of the classroom I’d challenge my students that one final time, “So, what (gurgle) does *this* tell us (wheeze) about what it means to be human (faint)?” Anyone who has ever been in any of my classes or public scholarship presentations is no doubt smiling – or wincing - at this point in the reading.


Alas, I no longer think that will be the finale of my life story. Indeed, if anything, it seems to be a prime example of the rabbinical proverb “If you want to make G-d laugh, tell G_d your plans.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The Rev. Harry Scott Coverston, J.D., M.Div., Ph.D.
Member, Florida Bar (inactive status)
Priest, Episcopal Church (Dio. of El Camino Real, CA)
Lecturer: Religion and Cultural Studies
University of Central Florida, Osceola Campus, Kissimmee


 If the unexamined life is not worth living, surely an unexamined belief system, be it religious or political, is not worth holding.

Most things of value do not lend themselves to production in sound bytes. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
















Sunday, August 17, 2014

The Lecture

A Return Home Through Old Florida

I just returned yesterday from an overnight trip to Tallahassee. I had taken my 87 year old Dad up to see his 92 year old sister, Aunt Delphine. It was a good visit with lots of stories, trips to a seafood restaurant they both like and a late brunch (during which my aunt sneaked most of her food onto my plate) before we left Saturday afternoon. It was good to spend time with one of only two remaining siblings of my parents. And it was good to spend time alone with my Dad.

We had taken the monotonous, heavily traveled interstate route (75 north to 10 west) going up. It is probably the fastest route to Tallahassee even when closed down by accidents as it was Friday afternoon just east of Live Oak. Coming home we took the more leisurely route from pre-interstate days following US 27 to Perry and then US 19 south. We crossed the Suwanee River at Fanning Springs continuing south through Cross City, Chiefland, Gulf Hammock and finally swerved eastward across the back road through tiny Morriston to Ocala and the interstate.

It was a beautiful drive through an as yet unspoiled part of Florida. It still looks much like the state I knew as a boy which no longer exists much of anywhere else. The undeveloped hammock lands along the northern Gulf Coast are vibrantly green and full of wildlife. Outside the towns, there are very few houses or businesses. Occasionally you see an unfortunate coyote and armadillo who met their ends on the highway there. But for long stretches you don’t even see billboards or any other signs that humans had been there other than the highway.

It was good to spend time with my Dad, talking about family history, about his hopes for us children and about what he wants to happen once he has left us. I always come away with a greater sense of who I am and how I got to be the way I am after these long trips with my father.   

Dream Lecturer

Apparently this time together stirred up a lot more than I realized. This morning, I awoke from a dream about a lecture of sorts. It was unclear who the lecturer was but I found myself listening intently. The points are not terribly profound, indeed they are somewhat reductionist as you will see, but I think they are worth considering. Undoubtedly, they reflect my conscious understandings of this subject quite well.

To wit:

The lecturer said, ”There is no human evil which cannot be redeemed. There is no human goodness which cannot be corrupted. Human beings lie at the Big Bend of those two potentials.”

And then I awoke.

It is my habit to record my dreams upon waking. Carl Jung believed that our unconscious mind speaks to us in our dreams and has important things to tell us if we are willing to listen. My dreams have always been vibrant, active (so much so that I sometimes awake exhausted from the activity in my dream) and vivid. I almost always remember at least one of the dreams from the night before when I awake in the morning. I guess my unconscious mind tends to be as communicative as its conscious portion.

Interestingly, in my dream, the junction of these two potentials was referred to as “the Big Bend” of humanity. The Big Bend is a geographical designation of the curving coastline on the northern Gulf Coast where the Floridian peninsula attaches to the North American mainland and the state takes a 90 degree westward turn to form its boomerang shape. This was the very region my father and I had crossed the day before.

A Mixed Bag on a Good Day

As I lay in bed this morning mulling over my dream with its lecture on the mixed nature of human beings, gradually coming to full consciousness, the following considerations occurred to me:

Human nature is a mixed bag on a good day. This is why theologies of depravity always have the potential to reinforce, exacerbate, even insure the very evil they most fear. It is also why theologies of human goodness always have the potential to be disappointed and to cause unintended harm in their naiveté.

Years ago in graduate school at FSU I encountered William James and his work on the varieties of religious experience. I found his descriptions of the sin-sick souls in search of conversion and the sanguine souls seeking to develop their positive visions of the divine helpful in understanding the religions I was studying. In all honesty, I found much more to like in the sanguine soul than the sin-sick alternative which I really have never understood. But increasingly, I find these constructs too reductionist to be terribly helpful, especially when seen as dichotomous choices.

The reality is that most of us experience ourselves as having aspects of both tendencies. While depravity theologies emphasize human sinfulness and their Freudian versions emphasize our destructive tendencies, the reality is that the potential for depravity has never been exhaustive of the subject of human nature. On the other hand, the innate goodness theologies that often developed in response to the brooding Augustinian visions which unfortunately became dominant in the west have often proven incapable of dealing with the evil that does arise regularly in our world.

Murder, war and theft are considered news by most human beings because they are the exception to the human experience, not the rule. But they do happen. And any vision of humanity that fails to take into account those possibilities is bound to be ambushed by its destructive potential. Such possibilities are not simply remediated by education as post-Enlightenment thinkers wished to believe. Rather they reside in the shadow of the human psyche and erupt when we least expect them. Indeed, some of humanity’s worst behaviors have occurred in the name of good intentions carried out with a blind eye to their actual impacts on others.

On the other hand, if you anticipate depravity you won’t have much trouble finding it. Indeed, there is something to be said for the power of self-fulfilling prophecies. In the American Bible Belt, the area of the country most prone to see the world through depravity lenses, the social pathologies from divorce and abuse to murder and addictions tend to be the highest in the country. Conversely, the areas of the country with the lowest religious participation rates generally tend to have among the lowest incidence of social pathologies. Might it be that we humans simply live into others’ expectations of us?

But Are We Willing?

As I lay in bed this morning, trying to convince myself I should get up, make coffee and get ready to go to church, a last stray thought ran through my mind:

Becoming more fully human requires two things: one, the ongoing willingness to work at becoming conscious and two, the ongoing willingness to work at overcoming our tendencies to be selfish, tribal and anthropocentric. We are inevitably works in progress. We are learning how to hold in tension all of our potentialities, all of who we are. All of us can become ever more fully human. The question is never about capacity; rather, it is always about whether we are willing.

Perhaps I ought to go on road trips with my Dad more often.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The Rev. Harry Scott Coverston, J.D., M.Div., Ph.D.
Member, Florida Bar (inactive status)
Priest, Episcopal Church (Dio. of El Camino Real, CA)
Asst. Lecturer: Humanities, Religion, Philosophy of Law
Osceola Campus, University of Central Florida, Kissimmee


If the unexamined life is not worth living, surely an unexamined belief system, be it religious or political, is not worth holding.

Most things of value do not lend themselves to production in sound bytes. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++