Juxtaposition

I love the idea of the juxtaposition--the "placement of two things (usually abstract concepts, though it can refer to physical objects) near each other."  Juxtaposition is one of the reasons I enjoy learning about the Progressive Era in American history.  And just last night I had my own personal experience with juxtaposition.

There are many great juxtapositions to be found in the Progressive Era.  My favorite is the contrast between the positive spirit of reform sweeping the nation during that time and some of the horrible ways in which those reforms were manisfested.  For example, the Progressive Era was the period of settlement houses like Hull House in Chicago, the introduction of the kindergarten, and the establishment of worker's compensation for people injured on the job.  These positive reforms, aimed at helping those who were vulnerable or who had suffered some misfortune, can still be seen in one way or another today. 

Juxtapose that vision of aid to those in need against the practice of the "science" of eugenics going on at the same time.

Today we gape in wide-eyed disbelief over how a theory like eugenics (improving the human condition by ridding the gene pool of the undesirable) could ever have been taken seriously.  Yet in California, powerful leaders like the inventor Alexander Graham Bell, president of Stanford University David Starr Jordan, and botantist Luther Burbank were in the vanguard of championing the movement.  In Sacramento, Charles Goethe (yes, of Goethe Park fame), the very man who provided the land on which rests my beloved CSUS, trumpeted the benefits of eugenics. 

Juxtaposition:  a reform movement aimed at helping those less fortunate and a bio-social science that aimed at forced sterlization to cure the world of its undesirable elements.

Now for my personal juxtaposition experience.  This has to do with my pursuit of scholarly wisdom. 

For me, going to school, studying, writing, etc., is a solitary process.  I'm a fairly self-sufficient student, and I enjoy studying at my local Starbuck's or in the ARC or Library on campus.  These study periods of solutide, in spite of the fact that I'm generally surrounded by people, are a balm to my soul.  Anyone who knows me well knows the truth of the adage:  "Mama needs her cave time."  I am happiest when I am alone and focused on school work.

This week, classes started for the spring semester, my second semester in grad school.  On Monday night, I tentatively opened the door to the classroom (half an hour early, of course) and was immediately warmly welcomed by Texas, a grad student I had "debated" with in a History and Theory class last fall.  As more and more of my former classmates filled this classroom to begin the new semester, I was verklempt with a sense of belonging and camradarie.  Here were my people.  They all live and breathe their education.  They love being on campus, they love studying in coffee shops, they all want to talk about where to pursue their Ph.D.  And if that Monday night feeling of companionship had not been enough, last night I attended the first session of an undergrad elective class on the American Revolution.  Who should be waiting outside the classroom but my friend April, a wonderful woman with whom I have shared several undergrad classes--including our writing seminar class where she was kind enough to bring me popcorn with M&M's during a study session.  I was so delighted to see her, so pleased to be able to share the American Revolution with her, that I couldn't stop telling her how happy I was.

Juxtaposition:  my love of the solitary pursuit of knowledge and my absolute delight at being part of a community of students who share my passion about education.