Waiting for the Green Man

Harlaxton Manor—Harlaxton, England

In the summer of 1995, I studied in England with a group of undergraduate and graduate students from West Texas A&M University.  We lived and studied at Harlaxton Manor, and when we weren't traveling to other parts of the country, several of us made daily commutes to London to study at various museums and libraries, including the Tate Gallery and the British Library.

The Reading Room of the British Library

Those few weeks in England provided dozens of amazing learning experiences.  In addition to studying handwritten poetry manuscripts and scores of paintings, I made many new friends.  There were thirty or so students, and most of us had never met before, but we very quickly bonded, forming small groups with similar interests and areas of study.  Early on, several of us went to the British Library to apply for five-year passes that gave us access to a wide array of books and manuscripts.  At the end of the semester, I had completed two graduate classes, one on Pre-Raphaelite art and literature, the other an independent study of the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins.

I spent a lot of time writing in my dormitory-style room.

One of the requirements for every student was to keep a daily journal.  While some people found the assignment tedious, I savored the experience and looked forward to the hour or so I set aside each day for composing my entry.  In addition to giving me a chance to reflect on my experiences while they were fresh, the journal provided a permanent detailed record of the time I spent in England.

Photocopy of overlapping pages from my journal

Although we didn't have to do so, I gave my journal a title, Waiting for the Green Man, which is a reference to the pedestrian signals I saw all over England.  The Green Man is the equivalent of the white figure that gives us permission to cross intersections in the States.  In the brief time I spent in England, I did a great deal of walking and, as a result, lost ten pounds.  The walk from Harlaxton Manor to the train station in nearby Grantham was two miles, and every time I arrived at Kings Cross in London, I walked an additional two to five miles to and from various tube stops and study destinations.

This brings me to the focus of my blog.  My brief experience of studying in England challenged me to see things differently, to reconsider, time and again, my assumptions and my perspective of the world.  It was one of those rare opportunities for me to see things as a student; I had been out of graduate school for more than ten years and had been teaching full time ever since.  It was refreshing and eye-opening for me to renew the sense of discovery that I had last known as a full-time student.  In the seventeen years since that summer in England, I have continued to change and evaluate my perspective—personally, culturally, artistically, and politically.  The entries that follow will reflect a sampling of those shifting points of view.

Group photo of my classmates and professors