As a young girl who entered
kindergarten in 1976, my entire educational experience was a melding of
experiments dreamed up by Baby Boomers who taught my classes and
administered my school systems. For two years I was placed in a
combined first and second grade “classroom experiment” to test the
effectiveness of peer education. I don’t remember any
student-to-student teaching, but I do remember participating in
Universal Silent Sustained Reading every afternoon, an exercise shared
by the entire elementary school to create a school-wide bond based on
reading that earned the unfortunate cold war-laden abbreviation of
“USSR” on Mrs. Brace’s chalkboard. From third grade on, we were
assigned journal entries to improve our creative writing skills, and
lest we be hampered by the technical aspects of writing, we were
encouraged to disregard spelling and grammar and just let the ideas flow
onto the page—an exercise that doubtless accounts for my current heavy
reliance on the spell checker in my word processor.
These educational
experiments continued into middle and high school, where I earned a
sufficient grade on a math test administered to all eight graders that I
was allowed to enter geometry and skip ninth grade math. The only
question I remember from the eighth grade test was that we were asked to
calculate the mean from a series of numbers. I remember I chose 7
because I had always thought it was a particularly unkind number and
fortunately guessed right even though I had no idea how to calculate a
mean.
My entrance to college did
not slow the rush of experimental teaching experiences for me, as I
attended a small private school in central Pennsylvania, Juniata
College, which rejected traditional “majors” in favor of Programs of
Emphasis. Programs of Emphasis allowed students more creativity in
their curricular development; i.e., I could take any class I wanted as
long as I was able to justify the selection with both of my academic
advisors. Both advisors? But of course, Juniata College also had an
experimental two-advisor system where students had one advisor from
within their area of emphasis (mine was biology) and one from outside
their area of emphasis. Advisors from within the area of emphasis were
assigned, but it was up to the student to identify a second advisor,
typically one of the professors from the first semester of classes.
My first semester schedule
included Biology, Chemistry, Calculus, English, and Ancient
Judeo-Christian Heritage. The last was taught by the extremely
intimidating Dr. Jose Nieto. As someone who had never read the Bible
(the joys of having agnostic parents), I was in completely over my
head. I did not even know how to locate our assigned readings.
Deuteronomy 28:1-64. What does that mean? What are those numbers? Are
they pages and chapters?? Dr. Nieto had no tolerance for ignorance in
class discussions, and he also had no tolerance for silence in class
discussions. These dueling intolerances made a deadly combination for
someone as ill-prepared as I was for a class on biblical history. I
remember in particular Dr. Nieto’s scathing remarks written in the
margin of my paper on the role of women in the New Testament. Mary was
at the foot of the cross? How was I supposed to know?? My ignorance
must have been appalling to someone who had earned his doctorate in
theology from Princeton Theological Seminary. But Dr. Nieto was
equally hard on all students. He criticized me for my ignorance;
another student for his literal belief in the Bible; and a third for his
inane ideas about authorship of biblical texts. As a student in his
classroom, you could do no right.
Jose Nieto was the logical
choice for my second advisor. He was the antithesis of the fuzzy,
tolerant educators that preceded my Nieto experience. He was tough,
demanding, unyielding, and patronizing towards his students, and there
was nothing I wanted more than to earn the extremely rare praise he
doled out for my ideas or judgment. When I told other students Dr.
Nieto was my second advisor they were aghast—second advisors were
supposed to be someone who would stroke your hair and say it was all
right if you were failing Organic Chemistry because you could always
switch to Peace and Conflict Studies.
Instead, when I had advising
sessions with Dr. Nieto he would challenge me on the choice of every
single class: Why do you need to take Geology? What will it teach you?
How will it make you a better scientist? How could you possibly pass up
an opportunity to take Oriental Religious Heritage when the class
clearly contains material that would be essential to your future
profession as a biologist? I took that class my senior year and was
again woefully out of my element as Nieto dragged us through Taoism,
Jainism, Buddhism, and all the Hindu gods and goddesses.
Advising sessions lasted at
least an hour and I would leave exhausted and battered. In contrast, my
biology advisor would sign any paper I handed him and have me out the
door in five minutes flat.
Thus, it is ironic that it
was my biology advisor who decided my career path into forestry. When I
quietly stated my goal to pursue graduate school in forestry, he
pedantically declared, “Girls don’t study forestry. You will have to
study botany. The University of Wisconsin has a very good botany
program.” And so, it might have been a need to rebel against my biology
advisor that pushed me down the path towards forestry, but it was the
four years of learning to argue and fight with Dr. Nieto that gave me
the strength and ability to ignore the advice of an intimidating
professor.
It turns out my biology
advisor was right—there were very few women in forestry, and women are
still in the minority two decades later. I was the second female to
obtain a doctorate in the School of Forest Resources at Penn State and
the first female to be granted tenure in the Forestry Department at
Virginia Tech. There was a notable absence of nurturing women as
teachers and advisors through my graduate school years and my early
career. I found ample opportunities to employ the ability to think for
myself and employ the verbal fighting skills taught me by my mentor and
advisor, Dr. Jose Nieto.
Carolyn Copenheaver is an
Associate Professor in the Department of Forest Resources and
Environmental Conservation at Virginia Tech. Her teaching
responsibilities include Forest Ecology and Silvics and Advanced Forest
Ecology. Her research interests focus on dendroecology, forest stand
dynamics, and land-use history.