Independence day? A celebration of America, liberty, and the dream of democracy, which all seem to be crumbling?

The Statue of Liberty has taken a big hit the last years, but the crowning blow was the series of rulings the Supreme Court made during these last weeks. They ruled New York’s gun law unconstitutional, a law meant to protect people’s lives in gun-free places, at a time when gun violence and deaths have risen exponentially. Then they struck down Roe vs. Wade, which gave women the right not merely to a safe abortion, but also to control their own lives and bodies. Not all the supreme court justices took these away—the three liberal judges (two women, one man and two out of three who are Jewish)—tried valiantly to uphold these laws and rights, but were overpowered by a conservative block of five men and one woman (three appointed by former President Trump).  Those justices, led by Samuel Alito and Clarence Thomas, who identify as “originalists,” limiting themselves to the freedoms and meanings intended (but can we ever really know intent?) by the original framers of the constitution, are actually “fundamentalists.” Their reading of the Constitution is analogous to religious fundamentalists, who read their Bible literally, believing it is something fixed, the literal word of God (though written by humans?), whose meaning must never change, despite the fact that people, societies, and the world changes. 

The “Founding Fathers” of America at least dreamed of “a more perfect union.” They were NOT bound by what had been done before, which is why they broke with the tradition of monarchy, when kings insisted they were above human laws and ruled by “divine authority.” Abraham Lincoln saw himself evolving, perceived injustices that needed to be changed, but it has been a long, incomplete journey. Chattel slavery, the enslavement of Africans, Black people stolen from their country, had to change, even though many of those founding fathers themselves were slave owners. But Michelle Goodwin’s brilliant Opinion piece in the NYTimes  (June 26),  argues that the Supreme Court decision effectively means “the erasure of Black Women from the Constitution.” For it “ignores the intent of the 13th and 14th Amendments, especially as related to Black women’s bodily autonomy, liberty and privacy, which extended beyond freeing them from labor in cotton fields to shielding them from rape and forced reproduction.”

Apparently our contemporary originalists don’t accept all of the Amendments or believe in evolution and working towards a more perfect union. Indeed, this action treats women as chattel slavery, moving the clock back, returning us to a more unjust, and yes, less free society. With the undoing of Roe vs. Wade, women have lost their liberty, especially the poor, and most of us are devastated with feelings of outrage, despite the split in the country over abortion. 

Does race enter into this? Yes. Apparently for some, racial fears are a motivator. AP reported that U.S. Rep. Mary Miller (R) of Illinois, at a rally on June 25th with former President Donald Trump said, “President Trump, on behalf of all the MAGA patriots in America, I want to thank you for the historic victory for white life in the Supreme Court yesterday.” Twitter went crazy. Her defenders say she misread her written speech, and meant to say, “right to life,” but even if it were a misreading, it shows what was actually on her mind, and the MAGA patriots cheered loudly. Yet their position defies logic, because who is not going to be able to afford to get abortions? Disproportionally black and brown women, that’s who. Guess these white patriots haven’t thought this through. The more black and brown babies, the sooner “white” people will lose their majority.

Even though women also praised the overturning of Roe vs. Wade, it’s impossible to miss the misogyny in the Supreme court majority opinion or its advocates, whether actual hatred of women or “merely” the belief that men and women are not equal, thus are not capable or worthy of the freedom to make their own choices. John Milton, the seventeenth-century poet and defender of liberty (though also with his own misogyny) in Paradise Lost (one of the most read books in early America, along with the Bible) had Adam and Eve separate right before the Fall, to show that each had to be tempted by Satan separately, to make the choice for themselves (woman being endowed with “free will” just as Adam was). The husband didn’t “choose” for the wife, didn’t rule her actions. What could be a more striking instance of a woman’s right to choose? Milton would say, it’s a “necessity.”

What hypocrisy for five judges on the Supreme Court to strike down more stringent gun control but enact complete control over womens’ bodies and choices, as well as their overall well-being. Thus allowing states to pass laws forcing women to give birth when their pregnancy is the result of rape or incest. Imagine nurturing the very baby that is the result of violence, that might look like the rapist or incestuous uncle or father. But no, concern is not for the life of the child after birth (as some say, this is “pro-birth” not “pro-life”). Many of the same people who are against abortion in all cases (even if it threatens the life and health of the mother) do not want the government to spend money on child care, food, or education for the children that never asked to be born. Many of those same people also fear their gun rights will be restricted. Fine to restrict women’s rights over their own lives, their freedom, but God help you if you want to restrict their rights to own military style guns and carry them wherever they want.  Throughout farmlands in Illinois, you still see “Guns Save Lives” signs posted along the highway, despite the murders of children in their schools, even grade schools. And no, the answer is not more guns.

 We in America are supposed to enjoy religious freedom, with the separation of church and state enshrined in the first Amendment, as usually interpreted. But the overturning of Roe vs. Wade  violates the first Amendment because it imposes on the rest of the nation the beliefs of a particular religion---Christianity. Evangelical Christians, particularly hold to the belief that life begins at conception (though St. Aquinas did not). There are plenty of Protestants and Catholics who are against abortion but oppose the ruling, believing in the freedom of others to do what they believe is right.

This new ruling, which imposes a specific religious viewpoint, violates the principle of religious freedom in America, especially that of Jews. In the Torah, the Talmud, and later rabbinic teachings, a fetus is part of the woman’s body and is not considered a living person until birth. Judaism does not prohibit abortion, especially if the mother’s health is at stake. Are those same justices now going to insist on a literal, fundamentalist interpretation of the first Amendment that gets rid of the broad sense of religious freedom for all, including freedom from religion?

Don’t get me wrong. I love the Bible, and study it. But I believe that all important, valuable texts—the Bible, and yes, our Constitution with all its Amendments—are living things (the Torah is called “The Tree of Life”).

As living things, they change, they grow.  Otherwise they die.

The last two weeks have been deadly in America, the worst being the slaughter of fourth graders in Uvalde, Texas.  I cannot get the images or thoughts of what happened out of my head. I feel like I did after the horrors at Sandy Hook; intense, prolonged grief, mixed with anger at those who refuse to pass the necessary gun laws to help prevent such killings and at those who vote against legislators they believe will take their “gun rights” away. So, better to lose the lives of children than their precious guns, which of course they wouldn’t “lose.” Do I have that right? These are the same people who say they want to “Make America Great Again?” Really? And the same ones who seek to take away a woman’s right to abortion while more children continue to be shot? There’s just no bottom to the sea of irony and it saddens me deeply.

I teach and have done so for many years. Other than voting, teaching is the only thing I can use to defend young people. These are students, who since Columbine and the Virginia Tech shootings, know how vulnerable they are, even in a classroom. There seem to be no safe spaces and yet, the classroom is the only one I can provide.

Teaching has been my life-long commitment. My service.

We recently had graduation at Barnard College, which included the classes of 2020 and 2021, who came back for their belated ceremonies. The event reminded me of the joy I take in students and how I’ve never felt happier teaching than in the last two plus years. That saId, it’s been stressful with the mutating Covid virus, an unjust war in Ukraine, and the catastrophic impact of climate change. Time seems to be running out. We’re all uncertain about the future and what it might become, even if we have one. And so my students are uncertain as well.

Many teachers have been complaining about less-than-stellar performances by their students due to disinterest, absenteeism and indifference. Jonathan Malesic’s recent opinion essay in the New York Times lamented the deteriorating situation where, with the pandemic and remote/hybrid teaching, there is too little effort by higher administration in colleges to set expectations for students. It seems anything goes. The same essay took up the entire cover of the Times’ Sunday Review: “Welcome to Pandemic University. COLLEGE.” Further down on that same page in eye-catching bold it read, “Late assignments, failed exams, sleeping in class. Even back in person, college students seem to have lost the desire to learn.”  Someone forwarded a post to me from Common Sense by William Deresiewicz titled “We Aren't Raising Adults. We Are Breeding Very Excellent Sheep: Our elite college graduates know how to imitate, but they don’t know how to be independent.”  

Yes, at Barnard College we have some of the same problems. Some colleagues who teach large lecture classes, especially in the sciences, say students don’t show up, as if attending class is merely an option. But this has not been my experience.

In the weeks leading up to graduation, reading term papers that were the culmination of the semester’s work, I found myself moved by the quality of my students’ essays. They were deeply thoughtful, full of independent, critical thinking, with arguments firmly grounded in the literary texts, as they explored the readings and built on difficult conversations we had during the semester. They worked so hard. In fact, the term papers I received since the pandemic began have been some of the best in my five decades of college teaching, which started at the University of Illinois. Sure, there are  always outliers, but the majority of my students astound me. Teaching has been an inspiring, reassuring experience.

With Covid and increased stress on young people, we are encouraged to “take care of” our students (no professor would’ve thought of such a thing when I went to school), to cut them slack for anxiety or their desire for extensions for papers. We post on our syllabi “wellness” resources. As my friend in the English Department put it—a teacher who has long had an ardent following—there has been an increasing infantilization of our students, who nevertheless long to grow up. It’s a hard balance—demanding excellence yet supporting them when they feel most vulnerable. And how could they not, given the world they are inhabiting? A couple of years ago, a wonderful talented first-year student was shot next to campus in a robbery. A year or two before that, one of our students was killed by a mudslide in California that covered a number of houses. 

I’d rather err in the direction of caring, keeping in mind the physician’s motto of “do no harm.”

As a “first gen,” all my schooling was through public education and it was excellent. Moving to Barnard in 2004 from the University of Illinois was an unexpected gift. Teaching at an institution I could never have attended (or been admitted to), I know I am privileged teaching at a liberal arts college where all the students take their work seriously (no fraternities and sororities).  I realize my experience teaching these days is not the same as those at different types of colleges. But I think it is worth sharing.

The first day of class, I tell students I expect their attendance, but that I’m not the police—they are adults, and if they choose not to attend regularly or work to get as much as they can from my class, they are wasting over $50,000 a year—either their parents’ money or the debts they will carry. (A few drop my course.) I also tell them that teaching is a conversation: our conversation with what we read and with each other (whether in class discussion or in papers that I respond to with comments). As for grades, they will get what they earn. No disheartening “curves.”

My teaching has changed over the years, though it has always been student-centered. I gave up on exams as worthless—I want my students to read, think, and write thoughtful essays, not to give me facts that show they’ve read (not understood) the course material. They write essays, even for midterms.

My students asked for specific “paper topics” or “prompts” for short essays. They were unhappy, feeling at sea. But they have grown used to my method. It gives them freedom to use their minds, but also requires them to take responsibility. There’s a life lesson as it relates to liberty.

All the papers they write have choice included. Each person creates the topic of their term paper. I want it to be meaningful to them. Life is too precious, and precarious, to not do something meaningful. I do not train them to be sheep. Rather, I say, “write papers that enable you to grow, to take your own step forward, knowing that you have moved beyond the place where you started.” Such assignments make them feel strong, creative, smart and capable. Thus, most students end the course knowing they have done something that matters. 

I teach “older” literature, with an eye to the present and its concerns. I do not shrink from hard topics, such as suicide, something that has been a plague among young people. During this semester in my Milton course we were reading the passages in Paradise Lost where Adam, after the Fall, does not want to live, and he and Eve consider suicide and abstinence so as to not prolong misery or the human race. But then I pointed out that Adam and Eve, after sinking to the depths of despair, choose life. The meaning of that wasn’t lost on anyone.

My students know I care whether or not they do well. I care when they are suffering. I say what I mean; I have few filters. Being rigorously intellectual does not keep me from being open emotionally, perhaps more than many professors. Are they anxious? Yes, but I too have had a life-long war with worry. For some colleagues, the boundary between the professional and personal is impermeable. But when you are teaching the humanities in these difficult times, surely it is possible to combine intellectual rigor with kindness, compassion, and empathy.  That is “engaged pedagogy.”  We create institutes, centers, and programs for that. My pedagogical tools may be different, but my diverse students thrive and succeed, sometimes beyond what they thought they could achieve. 

Empathy, the basis of conscience, a concern with justice, can be fostered and encouraged; it can be modeled, but I’m not sure it can be taught.