the ivory tower

I was raised in the world of academia. The photo above is of the "Sample Gates", the entrance to my alma mater for grad school. My two years spent here while working on my master's degree were two of the best years of my life. I love this university and this college town. In fact, I just have a big soft spot in my heart for college towns. A college town is my ideal place to live. I probably think this because I was raised in a college town. But I also think there is a beautiful harmony in small college towns - with the university providing diversity, intellectualism, arts/music/culture, and a vibrancy to a town, while the non-university portion of the town provides a great balance of authentic small town life experience and culture. 

My childhood memories contain a backdrop of the world of the university. Some of my earliest memories are of my parents lugging our travel crib up old, broad flights of stairs at the university my father taught at, so that I could take a nap while he worked. I remember sitting in his small, cramped office stacked with papers and books, pretending that I was a professor. I'd make makeshift typewriters out of yellow legal pad paper and pretend to type up important papers. I climbed trees outside his building, played catch and practiced batting a ball behind the parking lot. As I grew older, I played "teacher" in the empty classrooms on the weekends, evenings, and between classes. I made my parents sit and listen in a classroom as I "taught" them everything from math to AP biology to french as I prepared for the next day's exam at school. When no babysitter was available, I'd sit quietly in the back of his lectures and write or doodle. I grew up among the whispers of the politics of academia. I spent my summers riding my bike through the campus, hanging out in the union building, roaming the stacks of the library. I grew up with one parent heading off to teach summer school in other states, heading to conferences and lectures in other areas of the country. I missed him terribly during his summers away, but I was also so proud of him. Road trips almost always included stops to the nearby colleges and universities. My father was the only professor in the family, but my mother, when she went back to work, worked at the university, too. While I don't work at a university, I do hope that I'm instilling a love of learning in my son. 

Marek's childhood experience will be unique, of course, but full of love. And that, above all else, is the most important thing I can give him.