English and Creative Writing 2020 Mini Celebration

Descriptive Transcript

This video is a blend of text slides and self-recorded video clips. All of the professors and students featured are addressing the camera directly. Many of them are dressed in either regalia or other formal clothing.

Slide:
On a blue background, the Brandeis seal is shown above white text that reads:
Brandeis University
Department of English
Celebrating the Class of 2020

[Dr. Caren Irr, Professor of English, appears on screen in front of a virtual background of the courtyard in front of Goldfarb Library.]

Caren Irr: Good afternoon, and welcome to this virtual celebration of the graduates in English and Creative Writing for 2020. My name is Caren Irr, and I've had the privilege of being the chair of the English department this year, and I'll be your emcee for this event. It's a real honor and a pleasure to come together to celebrate our excellent graduates, students who have experienced a most memorable year. We have a series of short speeches for you and then we'll read the names of the graduates. But before we get started, I do want totake a moment to note and recognize two distinguished Emeritus Professors, both of whom passed away this year. The first is Robert Bob Pryor, Emeritus Professor of English and American literature. He passed away on November 15th, 2019 at the age of 97. Bob was a longtime member of the department, a scholar of Victorian literature and poetry. He taught at Brandeis from 1954 to 1987. He will be remembered by many faculty for his involvement and energetic support of programs such as the Transitional Year Program, the Policy programs, and the Wellington Prize, for which he was the donor. He was a beloved colleague and advisor, and his passing is something we note, and mourn.

The second faculty member I would like to recognize is Eugene Goodhart, professor of English. Gene passed away on April 9th, 2020, at the age of 88. Gene Goodhart was a distinguished scholar, and had a career at Bard College, the University of Chicago, Mount Holyoke College, MIT, and Boston University before coming to Brandeis in 1983. He was an expert in the modern novel, in a subject that he taught until his retirement in 2001. In his memoir, "Confessions of a Secular Jew," Gene praised, quote, "The informality and intellectual seriousness of Brandeis, it's heimishness." He did a great deal to support and sustain this culture and he will be sorely missed. Please join me in honoring these two faculty members who made such an impact on the English Department.

And now, we'll hear from our speakers. Our first speaker is my generous colleague, Professor Ulka Anjaria. Ulka is a Professor of English, and the chair of the South Asian Studies Program. Her scholarship focuses on Modern Indian Literature and Film, and she teaches courses on the 21st century global novel, Bollywood, coming-of-age in literature, and many other topics. Please join me in welcoming Ulka.

[Dr. Ulka Anjaria, Professor of English, appears in front of a virtual background of the courtyard behind Rabb Graduate Center.]

Ulka Anjaria: Dear students, parents and friends, it is my pleasure to represent the faculty in congratulating the class of 2020. Most certainly, this is not how you pictured your college graduation when you began this journey four years ago. Rather than gathering together to celebrate your accomplishments in person, here we are communicating online, speaking to one another across significant distance, not being able to see each other's faces, hug our friends or throw our caps in the air. This global crisis has affected our most intimate spaces, and we are left with forms of engagement that barely resemble what we so recently took for granted. But just because this graduation ceremony is not how you had envisioned it, that doesn't mean we can't spend some time reflecting on all you have accomplished and the road that lies ahead. Majoring in English or Creative Writing was an act of courage when you made the decision, as it rejects increasingly utilitarian conceptions of how education is valued. But now, even more so, you should be applauded for this decision.

We're in the midst of a global pandemic. And in these immediate days we see the need for doctors, nurses, public health experts, chemists, and others who are working on the forefront of scientific discovery to help us overcome this crisis. This feels in many ways like a moment for science. But what has also become clear is that in addition to vaccines and predictions, we need others besides scientists to take leadership. We especially need humanists to begin to ask the difficult questions that this pandemic has raised, and to use creativity and the imagination to build a new future for United States and the world. We need readers and critical thinkers to ask, what will the future look like? What kind of society do we want and how will we get there? We need artists and writers to tell our stories, not only of what we experienced these last few months, but of how we will recover, and heal, and envision our world anew.

More than ever before, we need those of you engaged with the central questions of the humanities to craft a new language to help us stake out a vision for our collective enterprise. I call on you, Class of 2020, to think of your work in the humanities as, in the parlance of the age, essential work. As we begin the process of rebuilding our lives, our social structures, and our collective sense of futurity in the wake of this global crisis, look upon your time at Brandeis, not as a time of respite, but as part of a training that will equip you to be a citizen of the 21st century, with all the unique characteristics that citizenship requires. In closing, and on behalf of all the faculty, I want to thank you for your excellent work these past four years, and over the past three months especially. Reading with you, thinking with you, hearing your thoughts on literature is for all of us the best part of our jobs as English and Creative Writing professors. Even as we have transitioned online, you have risen to the challenge and continue to bring your best to your work. I wish you a summer of reunions with family and friends, of reading for pleasure, of reflection and, hopefully, some joy as well. Congratulations.

Caren Irr: Thank you for those words Ulka. Our next speaker will be Dr. Abigail Arnold. Abigail has earned her PhD in English at Brandeis. And her research interests include 19th century British literature and the representations of women's relationships. Her dissertation is entitled "Narrative Intimacy: "The Confidante in the 19th-Century British Novel." This semester she taught an undergraduate course on representations of women's relationships in the novel, and previously she earned her BA in English at Barnard. Please join me in welcoming Abigail.

[Dr. Abigail Arnold is seated in a spacious room with shelves full of books in the background.]

Abigail Arnold: Hi, my name is Abigail Arnold, I'm graduating from the PhD program in English. My experience in the English PhD program at Brandeis has revolved around interpersonal connections. My interest in literary representations of such relationships has driven my scholarship and teaching trajectories. My dissertation focused on the confidante in 19th-century British literature. And I have taught courses about sisters, detective pairs and women's friendships, and other intimacies. Beyond the connections I have studied in literature, the connections I have formed with other people at Brandeis have helped to define my experience. And the two forms of connection have in turn connected with each other as I have developed my understanding of these literary representations through conversations with teachers, peers, students and friends.

The English Department faculty and staff have helped to guide me on my journey, whether by recommending books to read, giving thoughtful comments on my writing, or just being there for a chat when I was hanging around the department office and avoiding work. The chance to discuss my thoughts with all of you, I have grown as a thinker and a scholar. Just as important have been my colleagues, my fellow graduate students. It has always helped to have peers with whom to trade ideas, prepare for nerve-racking exams and conferences, and play literary board games. The Brandeis English department has a reputation for collegiality, and it has more than lived up to that for me and the other graduate students here. As a community, we have moved ahead with our scholarship, our teaching, and our personal and professional trajectories. This strong community defines the department as a whole, not just our graduate students. As a PhD student, I both taught my own classes and served as a TA, and I have always been impressed by the undergraduate students in Brandeis English classes.

Undergrads, you always have thoughtful responses to literature and you work together to make connections between the texts we read, the larger world, and other interesting things you have noticed around you. You bring a fresh and compassionate perspective to everything, and I have learned so much more about the subjects that I am passionate about from teaching you. And that exemplifies how all aspects in my Brandeis English career have involved interpersonal connections. Through working alongside other members of the department, I have learned more about how literature represents these bonds. Through this scholarship and teaching, I have also formed connections with others. Thank you.

Caren Irr: Thank you Dr. Arnold. Turning now to undergraduate speakers, it's my pleasure to introduce to you Peter Diamond. Peter is graduating with a major in English and a minor in South Asian Studies. His interests include 18th-century studies, drama and performance, Marxism, and contemporary Asian literatures. Next year, he'll begin studying in the University of Pennsylvania's English, PhD program. Please join me in welcoming Peter Diamond.

[Peter Diamond, English BA, is seated in a room with framed abstract art in the background.]

Peter Diamond: Hi everyone. This year of commencement events is particularly fraught with uncertainty and strangeness. All of us are graduating from an institution that looks and feels very different now from how it did three months ago. And this graduating class is starting post-undergrad life in a tremendously unfamiliar world. Those of us who majored in English are very used to articulating to people the value of our work in a world that at times seems to have no space for our interests and abilities. Now, we are in good company. Remote learning and remote work are likely pulling us closer to a more high-tech, yet disconnected way of doing things that will likely last long after a COVID vaccine emerges. Governed by what Canadian author and activist, Naomi Klein, has already dubbed The Screen New Deal.

This new world will strain the values that brought many of us to literary studies in the first place. A love of literature, a desire to connect through reading and writing, a need to take a critical approach to understanding the ways in which the world around us is written and communicated. Already, our universities and career centers have suggested talking points that will likely be reinforced to us as we seek to apply ourselves in this era. We have been told to view our skills as transferable. To think about writing and research and oral communication, and how they'll make us more valuable to workplaces than people with more so-called pragmatic majors. We've been encouraged to articulate how much studying literature surprisingly matters in contexts where at first it seems irrelevant. Those of us who will still be in academic institutions next year, have been assured that should remote learning continue, it will be better for everyone if we accept it as our reality and work harder.

In response to all of these dominant strains of advice, I give the following call to action: reject them. Resist relying on your so-called communication skills to transfer over to workplaces in a world that feels dystopic. Transferable skills do not exist. Meet your own material needs, of course, but beyond that, insist that your small worlds post-college adapt to and accommodate the things that you value, rather than emptily aspiring to bend the things you care about to fill in holes that were barely open to us in the first place. Move beyond the need to argue with people or read the think pieces about why we need the humanities in a post-COVID-19 world.

The value of the humanities has already been spoken loudly and clearly, and it does not need to be simplified or reframed for audiences that have never cared to hear it. And anyway, Jeff Bezos won't care if you love Henry James when your workplace gets bought out by Amazon. Instead, use what you've learned at Brandeis to organize and assert power, not to appeal to bigger forces in this changing world. And finally, to our faculty. Thank you for all that you have done this semester. I hope that we can all get better at using Zoom, but from the bottom of my heart, as someone who misses sitting in rooms together, please do not get too good at using Zoom. Thank you.

Caren Irr: Thank you for those words, Peter. Our second undergraduate speaker is Abby Berkower. Abby is graduating with degrees in English and Creative Writing, and a minor in Art History. Abby hails from Great Neck, New York, and she made her way to Brandeis via the London Midyear admit program in spring of 2017. In addition to serving for two years as the Undergraduate Departmental Representative for Creative Writing, Abby has been spending her senior year working on her Creative Writing Honors Project. It has the title "Kainan Na!" or "Time to eat." This project explores identity through the lens of food. She's really grateful to have been able to work so closely with the Creative Writing family, and she looks forward to their eventual post-quarantine reunion. Please take it away, Abby.

[Abby Berkower, English and Creative Writing BA, is seated outdoors on a porch.]

Abby Berkower: I distinctly remember my first visit to Brandeis. After our tour, I climbed the campus hills, it was time for my first college admissions interview. The conversation went well, covering my interests, prospective academics, and what it means to be a Brandeisan. At the end, the counselor asked about anything else that I'd like to add about myself. "I do," I replied shyly, "a lot of stuff. I'm just not sure what it is yet." I thought to myself. While not the most eloquent way to end an important conversation, this stumbled statement feels relevant four years later. As a writer, one of the most common pieces of advice that I've received over the years, which I'm sure will be familiar to you all, is to write what you know. I've struggled with this adage for a long time, because how am I supposed to write what I know if I don't know that much?

I'm only 21, I still have a lot of life to live, and what if I wanna write about something so far from what I know that it's completely out of this world. As I reflect on my experiences as a student, my classes in Creative Writing and English have shown me that we know so much more than what we might think. I have learned that being observant is a superpower because the slightest comment or action can be a cue to an onslaught of history. I've learned the power of connection, because the world is filled with common themes that somehow link Shakespeare to Bollywood. I've learned to pay close attention to how we communicate, because stories traverse media scapes amidst the diversity of voices. I've learned the power of resilience, because each tedious revision will eventually unearth a nugget of gold.

Right now, we live in a world of chaos and confusion. But as Creative Writing and English students, we're at an advantage. We know how to tell a story and how to tell it well. We know how to open the world even when it seems to be locked shut. When I was younger and my mom would lose me in the house, the first place she'd look for me was behind the couch. She'd almost always find me reading in a puddle of blankets, attempting to escape the world so I could be fully enveloped in my book. Everyone has a story that transported them somewhere new, whether it be down the street, into a different time, or even to a new dimension. Now it's our turn to share our visions of the world, to embrace our responsibilities as storytellers in creating and propelling a consciously compassionate society.

Thank you, my fellow students, for joining me in this, sometimes odd journey of learning what it means to be a storyteller. Thank you for teaching me the generosity of listening, really listening, to a story. Each one of us has a unique perspective that could feed thousands of pages. When the day eventually comes, I so look forward to walking into a bookstore and picking up a stack of books with familiar names on their covers, yours and hopefully, mine. Thank you, Steve, Liz, Grace, Chen, Michelle and Morgan for your fervor, not only for writing, but also for nurturing aspiring writers. Thank you for advocating for every story to be heard. We, the students, are so lucky to be able to learn from and with such passionate people. Thank you Leah and Lisa for being such a dream team of administrators. You both work so hard to run our departments. Your eagerness in helping students and professors to the best of your abilities and beyond is the foundation for our community. Four years after my college interview, there's still a lot of stuff about myself and my dreams and my goals that I'm not sure of. But thank you, creative writing, for showing me that I know a lot more than I realized. And thank you for helping me find the voice to say it.

Caren Irr: Thank you, Abby. And now to introduce our alumni speaker, we have Professor Steve McCauley.

[Stephen McCauley, Professor of the Practice of English, is seated in front of a blank wall.]

Stephen McCauley: Hi folks, my name is Stephen McCauley and I have the honor of introducing our next speaker, Josh Gondelman. Josh is a 2007 summa cum laude Brandeis graduate. He majored in English and Creative Writing, studied Screenwriting with Mark Weinberg, and did an Honors Thesis in Creative Writing. Since graduating, he's won a Peabody Award and three Emmys for his work on "Last Week Tonight with John Oliver," and as a senior staff writer and producer on the Showtime series "Desus and Mero," he's an accomplished stand-up comic. His essays and fiction have appeared in the New Yorker, the New York Times, Esquire and many other publications. And last fall, he published a collection of short comic essays called "Nice Try: "Stories of Best Intentions and Mixed Results." He offers emotional support and encouragement to complete strangers with his Twitter pep talks. Josh is truly an example that nice guys do not necessarily always finish last. Josh Gondelman.

[Josh Gondelman, English and Creative Writing BA, Alumnus 2007, is seated in front of a wall with framed quotes in the background.]

Josh Gondelman: Hello, English and Creative Writing Brandeis Class of 2020. My name is Josh Gondelman. I was Class of '07, English and Creative Writing major, Spanish minor. I apologize for not being one of the creators of "Friends," but I'm doing okay. That's good news, right? I mean for me, but also I'm trying to be hopeful for you all. 'Cause this is a bad time, right? It's a bad time to graduate. But speaking from experience, it's a bad time to be in your '30s and it seems like a bad time to retire. It's like a general bad time. So goodbye. No, that's, no, that's not it. I'm really here to say that it's a really hard time to do creative and intellectual work. It's a scary and dangerous time to be doing physical work in the world, but it's also a really important time to do the work of figuring out who you are and how you approach the world. How you show up for other people. How you live your values. How you commit to a life of learning and changing, right?

Brandeis is all about the lifelong learning and now is a real time to like learn about who you are and how you engage with the world. It's tough, and it won't always be this hard; it won't always be better than this. But you can get through this part and you'll be on the other side of it, eventually. But right now, this is part of it too.

This is the beginning of the next phase of whatever you're doing. And so, even though it's really difficult to feel like you're engaged and productive, that's okay. But life doesn't start when this ends. It's happening now, and you're doing it and you're going to do a great job. I'm sorry that it's like this, and I hope that there is relief soon, and I'm really excited to see all the ways in which this group rises to these challenges and continues to thrive beyond that. So, good luck, I'm so proud of all you've done so far, and I'm so excited to see your futures from my vantage point, which, currently, is in my apartment in Brooklyn, for the indefinite future. Thank you for allowing me to speak, and I hope you are able to celebrate this graduation as thoroughly as possible while these circumstances allow, or how these circumstances allow. Goodbye.

Caren Irr: Thank you, Josh. It's wonderful to see you again virtually, and it's wonderful, in general, when our graduates stay attached and keep us apprised of their many amazing activities. Remember that guys. We're gonna turn now to reading the names of our graduates, many of whom have submitted images or brief reflections on their time here at Brandeis.

[A slideshow plays. Many graduate names are accompanied by a photo and a quote. All photos are portraits, except where noted.]

Caren Irr: Let's get started.

And now, we'll turn to the recipients of the Doctor of Philosophy in English.

Please join me in congratulating these recipients of graduate degrees.

[Elizabeth Bradfield appears in front of a virtual background of the courtyard in front of the Brandeis libraries.]

Elizabeth Bradfield: This is Elizabeth Bradfield. I'll be reading the names of students graduating with degrees in Creative Writing.

[A slideshow plays. Many graduate names are accompanied by a photo and a quote. All photos are portraits, except where noted.]

Elizabeth Bradfield: I will now read the names of graduates with double majors in English and Creative Writing.

[A slideshow plays. Some graduate names are accompanied by a photo and a quote. All photos are portraits, except where noted.]

Elizabeth Bradfield: Turning now to the undergraduate degrees in English.

[A slideshow plays. Some graduate names are accompanied by a photo and a quote. All photos are portraits, except where noted.]

Caren Irr: Thank you. That concludes our reading of the names of the graduates for 2020. What a great group! It's a real pleasure to see you in this virtual forum. We now have a few, some greetings from faculty in the department. Let's get started.

[Various professors are shown in self-recorded videos. Each professor is seated in a room or in front of a virtual Zoom background.]

David Sherman: To the English Department, Class of 2020.

John Plotz: Hey, Class of 2020.

Elizabeth Bradfield: Dear graduating class.

Caren Irr: How great to have had this chance to be together.

Ramie Targoff: It's been an honor and a pleasure teaching you over the past four years.

William Flesch: You've certainly learned an enormous amount as an English major.

David Sherman: We admire your resilience, your intelligence, your hard work.

John Burt: Your belief that the unstated things are also the human things, and those are the things that literature, in its special way, articulates.

Thomas King: I know we're all living in a time of terrible uncertainty.

Dorothy Kim: Congratulations, especially on dealing with such a very complicated semester.

Emilie Diouf: The circumstances of your graduation are extraordinary.

Thomas King: I want you to think of this as an opportunity to dwell in possibility.

Elizabeth Bradfield: We need you more than ever, bring your words, bring your heart, bring your vision.

Stephen McCauley: Keep reading, keep writing.

William Flesch: Keep caring, keep living a rich intellectual life.

Thomas King: We know that with your intelligence, your language, your words, your flexibility.

Emilie Diouf: Your creativity, resilience, and courage have equipped you with tools to create new stories for an equitable world. I would like to send you off as you venture in the world with words by my favorite Rwandan writer, whom I draw from in difficult moments. Her name is Scholastique Mukasonga. [a video of Brandeis campus plays as she reads, featuring the statue of Louis Brandeis and the Light of Reason] "When you walk, you have to talk to your heart because it's the heart that spreads light all through your body. So tell it to remind your toes that they have to watch where you're stepping, and it will tell them, It's dark out, open your eyes. 'I'll look straight ahead, you'll look down.'"

Elizabeth Bradfield: It matters, art matters, and I look forward to seeing your words in the world.

Thomas King: You'll make it the best future possible for all of us.

John Plotz: I wanted to read you this little poem, which is actually the final few lines of Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself."

Faith Smith: As I prepare to read Whitman's words, I'm thinking about effusions, and eddies, and dirt, and grass [image: forest path covered in snow], and blood, and good health, and absence [image: endless highway stretching into the distance]. I'm thinking about breath. I can't breathe [image: protesters marching in a line, holding a sign that says "We can't breath"].

This thing that we can't even see [image: person in hospital bed wheeled across a bridge] and that makes it necessary to stay apart [image: social distancing posters], endangers everyone [image: hospital room], but its patterns of destruction remind us that the most vulnerable [image: a nurse wearing a face mask holds an infant], those who cannot afford social distancing [image: people lining up outside a hospital], or remaining in place [image: grocery store checkout line], or the absence of underlying conditions [image: person sweeping the floor], or the privilege of not being targeted by the state [image: man arrested by an ICE officer].

The most vulnerable are always thirsting for air, even in the best of times [image: a crowded beach]. Together, let us try to make all the inflections of drawing breath [image: closeup of the sign: "I can't breathe"], inhaling, breathing life into [image: overhead view of houses in tight rows], inspiring, aspiring to, yearning for [image: another protesting crowd]. Come together in a way that allows all of us to breathe [image: a deserted street]. And now, Whitman. I depart as air.

Ramie Targoff: I shake my white locks at the runaway sun. [image: an empty plain]

John Plotz: I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags. [image: the sun reflecting underwater]

Elizabeth Bradfield: I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love. [image: a horse resting on grass]

Thomas King: If you want me again, look for me under your boot-soles.

William Flesch: You will hardly know who I am or what I mean. [image: a line of people walking under a crenellated archway]

David Sherman: But I shall be good health to you, [image: men lounging in trees]
nevertheless. [image: one young boy wraps an arm around another boy]

Caren Irr: And filter and fiber your blood. [image: ocean waves crashing on shore]

Stephen McCauley: Failing to fetch me at first, keep encouraged. [image: birds flying in the sky]

Dorothy Kim: Missing me one place, search another. [image: viewing the sky from under the canopy of one tree]

John Burt: I stop somewhere, waiting for you.

John Plotz: We're waiting for you.

Faith Smith: Congratulations.

Emilie Diouf: Congratulations, again.

Ramie Targoff: Congratulations.

Dorothy Kim: I hope you guys have a chance to all celebrate.

Thomas King: Thank you, you have my respect.

David Sherman: We're proud of you and we'll miss you.

Caren Irr: Congratulations and be well.

[image: the steps leading up to Rabb Graduate Center]

Caren Irr: And with those words, we conclude our celebration of the graduates in English and Creative Writing for 2020. It's really been an honor and a pleasure to teach you, to learn with you, to get to know you, and enjoy your company. Please, stay in touch with us and let us know what you're up to. Help us celebrate your many future accomplishments. We know you're all going to be doing great things. And we're always here for you. Please come back and visit when that's possible again. Congratulations again, and goodbye for now. Stay safe.