乐播传媒 is welcoming a large group of new faculty this year. Seventeen tenured or tenure-track professors will join the college over the course of the 2025-2026 academic year. 乐播传媒 News will introduce them in groups over this semester.  

Ifrah Shahi, assistant professor of biology

Focus of teaching and scholarship:

I will be teaching microbiology classes, and my research focuses primarily on bacteriology. In particular, my lab will be researching the bacteria Kingella kingae, which causes bone and joint infections in children. I, along with students in my lab, will be investigating how K. kingae responds to and behaves in the presence of factors it might encounter in the human body during the course of infection 鈥� factors such as components of blood and the extracellular matrix. In addition to working on these questions in the lab, students in my 鈥淟ab-Based Biological Inquiry鈥� classes will also start playing around with these ideas as part of their class research projects! 

What are you most looking forward to in the coming year at 乐播传媒?

I’m really looking forward to teaching new classes and new materials, as well as working with students in my lab and getting some fun research done. But more than that, I鈥檓 really excited about being a part of the 乐播传媒 community. Being at 乐播传媒 is a real throwback to my own time as an undergraduate in a small liberal arts New England college (Mount Holyoke College), and I鈥檓 thoroughly exhilarated about the opportunity to be for my students the same kind of a mentor that my undergraduate professors were for me.

What is your favorite part of teaching?

First and foremost, the best part about teaching is getting to meet new students 鈥� I always come out of a semester feeling invigorated by all the amazing student interactions, learning new things, and creating long-lasting connections with the students. Secondly, I always love the active part of teaching: figuring out new ways to teach science that interests, excites, and intrigues students. I am very fond of bacteria, and imparting that affection for microbes and microbial research to students is always a wonderful full-circle moment for me.

Anderson C. Moss-Weaver, assistant professor of religious studies

Focus of teaching and scholarship:

My teaching and scholarship are relatively wide. My research focuses on how 20th-century African American poets and novelists create Black religious worlds that are grounded in the creation of sacred Black collective memory and the mystical sensations and experiences of freedom. I often joke that I am really interested in how Black people imagine what liberation feels like, smells like, tastes, and sounds like. My research is partially interested in African-American uses of East and South Asian religious and philosophical thought for the purposes of thinking through liberation from unique and alternative angles apart from the standard Western canon.

Here at 乐播传媒, I鈥檓 excited to teach courses in African American religious traditions and a course on the concept of 鈥渟piritual but not religious.鈥� I also hope to develop a seminar that helps students think critically about the complex and intertwined history of American evangelicalism and Christian nationalism. Finally, I hope to integrate my passion for TTRPGs (tabletop role-playing games) and fantasy/sci-fi into a class focused on religion, worldbuilding, and speculative fiction. I hope that students can work together to build their own fantasy world while learning how authors, from J.R.R. Tolkien to Octavia Butler, created their literary worlds by drawing on mythology and religions from our own world.

What are you most looking forward to in the coming year at 乐播传媒?

You know, I went to a small liberal arts college when I was in undergrad, and I loved it whenever a professor would come to campus events and lectures; their presence really made the small college environment feel unified. So, I really look forward to doing the same for students here at 乐播传媒 College. In that sense, I鈥檓 excited to contribute to the unique intellectual and creative reciprocity between faculty, students, and staff that can be cultivated in a small college setting.

What is your favorite part of teaching?

Learning is a transformational experience; I really mean that! But that experience we call learning, genuine learning, is challenging to provoke, and I think the best way to do it is to think alongside my students. Where are they coming from? What are they bringing to the table? Excellent pedagogy requires a dedication to understanding your students’ interests, strengths, and areas where they need improvement.

When I know my students well enough, I can ask them a question in a way that I know will push them specifically to think outside their comfort zone or really boost their confidence. By getting to know my students 鈥攖hat is, by thinking and teaching alongside them 鈥� I can see those moments of learning. They’re striking. Moments that I might call epiphanic, or someone else might call a 鈥渆ureka!鈥� moment, or what most often creates the 鈥渙h wow!鈥� expression in the classroom. So, my favorite part of teaching, really, is learning.

Robin B. McDowell, assistant professor of environmental studies

Focus of teaching and scholarship:

My teaching and scholarship live at the intersections of several fields (environmental history, Black studies, and art and design) that, taken together, animate the dynamic space of environmental studies. My work explores historical dimensions of environmental racism and environmental justice for Black communities in south Louisiana, inspired by years of community organizing and work as a walking tour guide in New Orleans鈥� French Quarter. My source base is vast 鈥� archives, oral histories, earth sciences, graphic design, and multimedia art 鈥� and I try to share as much of that material as possible in my classes.This semester, I鈥檓 teaching 鈥淟ives in Place: Introduction to Environmental Humanities鈥� and 鈥淔ree The Land: Histories of Environmental Racism in the United States.鈥� We鈥檙e doing a ton of multimodal learning grounded in iterative design thinking. I can鈥檛 wait to develop new courses that convene in critical and creative studio models and collaborate with units across the college to not only talk about but practice interdisciplinary teaching.

What are you most looking forward to in the coming year at 乐播传媒?

To be honest 鈥� office hours! Since I did not come from a liberal arts undergraduate background, I am continually awestruck and invigorated by a campus culture in which professors and students form such rich relationships and really go on the college journey together. In just the first three weeks of teaching, I鈥檝e discovered that I have sailors, knitters, dancers, bird call enthusiasts, photographers, and watercolor artists in class. I am excited to learn more about the full range of activities that inspire my students.

What is your favorite part of teaching?

I love when students start to 鈥渢rust the process,鈥� engage with a method, activity, or concept that seems intimidating at first, and then completely surprise themselves! We all have ideas about our place in the world, our strengths and challenges, and the contributions we鈥檇 like to make to the world. But often, even for young people, how we approach these ideas may be shaped by a more siloed understanding of learning 鈥� and teaching!

By exposing students to a vast array of methods in an inviting classroom environment, I start to hear things like, 鈥淚 never thought of myself as a creative person, but collaging just unlocked ideas I never considered while reading the text!鈥� Whether it’s discovering a writer, thinker, or maker whose work shifts their perspectives on events in their own lives, or working on a project that unlocks a perspective they never knew they could express, students remind me to never stop approaching the world with wonder and openness.

鈥淚ght! Ight!鈥� exclaimed the little boy, pointing to the flashes of light peeking through the forest canopy high above him.

鈥淟ight,鈥� without the L, was one of the first words that Caleb Ireland 鈥�23 spoke as a child, often while riding in a backpack carrier with his parents on walks near their home in Amherst, Mass.

鈥淚 guess I was mesmerized by the beauty,鈥� says Ireland. 鈥淚 had this understanding, even as a child, that there was some relationship there between the light and the forest and the trees and the whole system together.鈥�

As he grew up, Ireland loved to roam the forests, fields, and swamps near his rural home. Those experiences blossomed into an interest in pursuing college studies that might combine Ireland’s various ways of seeing the world: through the natural sciences and fieldwork, and by telling stories that 鈥渃an really inspire and teach people 鈥� really open their eyes to questions and issues and different people they may not have considered before.鈥�

Theophil Syslo/乐播传媒 College

Ireland is now an award-winning senior environmental studies major with minors in history and German, and the inspiring, eye-opening story he’s telling is through his honors thesis. It鈥檚 about a swamp 鈥� not one of his childhood haunts, but one that鈥檚 hundreds of miles to the south, the Great Dismal Swamp, which stretches across southeast Virginia and northeast North Carolina. 

In the years before the Civil War, the swamp became a refuge of resistance for Indigenous, African, and African American people escaping slavery and settler colonialism. Ireland is exploring that period from two disciplinary perspectives 鈥� biogeochemical and historical 鈥� to look at how these persons 鈥渦sed the ecology and geology of the swamp to build community and mount resistance against plantation society.鈥�

Ireland has scoured scientific data about the swamp to use as 鈥渆vidence to tell this story about Blacks and others who formed places of freedom in the swamp right next to plantations, away from the tyranny of slavery.鈥�

Last year, on the strength of his thesis proposal, Ireland received the college鈥檚 Forrest K. Garderwine Award, for the rising senior who offers the most promising thesis proposal or essay or paper addressing 19th-century U.S. history, with preference to topics related to the Civil War.

Supported by his thesis adviser, Associate Professor of History Joe Hall, Ireland will take his research on the road later this month, to a preeminent academic gathering usually reserved for more experienced scholars, the American Society for Environmental History鈥檚 annual conference, in Boston.

鈥淚鈥檓 a little nervous because it鈥檚 usually more of a graduate-school thing,” he says. “But it should be really cool. It鈥檒l be really fun.鈥�

A Dana Scholar who’s been on the dean’s list each semester, Ireland finds ways to partake of 乐播传媒 fun, singing with the Deansmen and playing ultimate with Orange Whip. He supports fellow students at the Academic Resource Commons and has explored the local community as a Purposeful Work intern at the historic Sabbathday Lake Shaker Village in 2021.

Like most students, Ireland arrived at 乐播传媒 with only a rudimentary understanding of what a 鈥渕ajor鈥� is. 鈥淚 had a really siloed understanding,鈥� he says. He figured that geologists studied geology and chemists study chemistry 鈥� and never the twain shall meet. 

But disciplines often do have robust meetups, like the other day when Ireland and fellow students in their environmental geochemistry course headed to nearby Cochnewagon Lake for fieldwork, using a powered auger to drill through the ice to take samples of sediment and water.

Through the highly interdisciplinary 乐播传媒 program of environmental studies, Ireland has found the opportunity to 鈥渃ombine work in the classroom, in the lab, and the field to get a really holistic and nuanced understanding of the systems that I study.鈥�

It鈥檚 exactly the approach to learning he has come to value: 鈥渢he many different ways of thinking, ways of understanding knowledge, ways of pursuing different kinds of questions, and thus weaving together different disciplines to tell a new story.鈥�

On a beautiful September morning, 15 乐播传媒 students hike a quarter mile through the woods of Freeport, Maine, shovels in hand, before emerging into a sunlit clearing.

Spread before them is Pettengill Farm, a historic saltwater farm perched on an estuary of the Harraseeket River. Now owned by the Freeport Historical Society, the 140-acre property features a circa-1800 saltbox farmhouse plus fields, woods, apple trees, and a salt marsh.

It鈥檚 a stunning vista.

Guided by Holly Ewing, the Christian A. Johnson Professor of Interdisciplinary Studies, the students are part of 鈥淪oils,鈥� an environmental studies course that digs into the science of dirt.

Farm Stand

This fall, faculty had the choice to offer their courses in person or remotely. For Ewing, 鈥淪oils鈥� needed to be taught in person.

鈥淭he course absolutely relies on students being able to see, smell, and feel soils in a variety of landscapes,鈥� she says. 鈥淭hese field explorations make the properties of the soil tactile and help the students come to see soils as bodies in the landscape.鈥�

The characteristics of soils are shaped by a variety of factors, she explains, ranging from vegetation, slope, drainage, and the parent materials from which they form.

鈥淭he physical, chemical, and biological properties we discuss in the classroom can be connected to what we have seen and done in the field 鈥� something that can clarify and connect concepts in a way that no textbook can.鈥�

Off to Dig

At Pettengill, the students explored transitions in soil characteristics on the landscape and compared what they found in the field to how the soils are mapped in the areas鈥檚 soil survey, which .

Students looked closely at soil structure, texture, and color among the different soil 鈥渉orizons鈥� 鈥� parallel layers of soil that have different characteristics from those above and below 鈥� that they unearthed.

鈥淭he changes that can occur within just a few feet of each other are incredible,鈥� says environmental studies major Sam Gilman 鈥�22 of Mendham, N.J. He and his lab partner, Zoe Knauss 鈥�23 of Buffalo, N.Y., dug about eight holes during the course of the morning.

Ewing had prepared students (including one studying remotely in New Hampshire, who dug her own holes there) for their fieldwork by teaching them about differences in soils and what causes those differences, from redox reactions to erosion. 鈥淚t’s really cool to then have the ability to get outside and actually see how what we’re learning in class applies to real landscapes,鈥� Gilman says.

Fieldwork in Ewing鈥檚 class, including a recent trip to the local Thorncrag Bird Sanctuary, has been a blessing during a semester where so much has been curtailed due to the college鈥檚 public health measures.

鈥淚鈥檝e just been really thankful to have the opportunity to get off campus and get my hands dirty,鈥� Gilman says.

Guided by a Mentor

As the students spread across the old farmland in Freeport with their analysis assignment in hand, Ewing, joined by Camille Parrish, a lecturer in environmental studies, moved from one group to another to check in and give feedback.

Stopping to talk to Sophia Miller 鈥�21 of New York City, Ewing used a knife to scrape off the face of the pit to expose a fresh surface for examination before departing to work with a group down at the river.

Ewing is Miller鈥檚 senior thesis advisor and the duo have been working together intensely this fall. Because of the unusual semester, students are taking just two courses for 7.5 weeks (Module A) and then will take two more during Module B, which concludes in December with winter break.

Miller鈥檚 two classes, the soils course and her thesis work, are both led by Ewing. 鈥淪he鈥檚 my only professor at the moment,鈥� Miller says. That鈥檚 an interesting dynamic, she says, but 鈥渋t鈥檚 been pretty incredible to get to know a professor on that level.鈥�

Further Afield

As Miller takes notes, she explains what she鈥檚 learned. This part of Pettingill was cultivated so the soil was often plowed up, mixing everything at the surface into one deeper horizon. Below that is clay, which might have been originally deposited when this area was covered by the ocean after the glaciers left. 鈥淭here is a lot of clay that鈥檚 pretty hard to dig through because it鈥檚 so dense.鈥�

No matter, says Miller. 鈥淓xperiential learning has always been big for me,鈥� she says. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 part of why I came to 乐播传媒.鈥� And particularly welcome this fall, when she鈥檚 been spending so much time in her room.

鈥淚鈥檓 socially more isolated than I have been in past years,鈥� she says. 鈥淪o the opportunity to be around peers in a socially distant way, to get off campus, and be learning from Holly is especially special.鈥�

This fall鈥檚 fieldwork, and its collaborative nature, helped solidify Zoe Knauss鈥� decision to declare her major in environmental studies. 鈥淚t was super cool to be able to relate what we learn about in the classroom to the actual environment we are living in,” she says.

Each week this fall, we鈥檒l introduce new 乐播传媒 professors who have tenure-track positions on the faculty.

This year鈥檚 nine tenure appointments are in the disciplines of art and visual culture, classical and medieval studies, economics, English, environmental studies, dance, politics (two appointments), and psychology.

This week we introduce the fourth of our nine new faculty members, Tyler Harper.

Name: Tyler Harper

Position: Assistant Professor of Environmental Studies

Degrees from: New York University, Ph.D. in comparative literature and M.A. in comparative literature; Haverford College, B.A. in English

His work: Harper researches the evolving ways in which science fiction writers have depicted human extinction, and how the concept of extinction has changed since 1796, when scientist Georges Cuvier proved that species extinction was in fact possible.

Completed in May, Harper鈥檚 dissertation was on 鈥淭he Specter of Extinction: Environmental Nihilism in British Science Fiction (1800鈥�1945).

Why sci-fi? With a literary canon that includes books from L. Ron Hubbard, and with movie titles like Abbott and Costello Meet the Invisible Man, science fiction in America is a 鈥渉eavily stereotyped genre,鈥� Harper says. 鈥淲e’re often used to thinking of sci-fi as entertainment or as beach reading.鈥� Plus, it鈥檚 a genre that’s frequently 鈥渃oded as both white and male,鈥� he says.聽

For a liberal arts professor, stereotype is a door waiting to be kicked open. 鈥淥ne of the joys of teaching science fiction is getting students to see sci-fi differently 鈥� as a genre that not only engages with big ideas but also that includes some great works written by marginalized voices.鈥�

A sample lesson: Harper says that he鈥檚 always loved introducing students to the novel Dawn, by Octavia Butler, the first Black female science fiction writer to reach national prominence. 

One of her earlier works, Dawn poses the 鈥渂ig questions that I find tend to excite students. Questions like, is the fear of otherness innate? Or is it learned? Can it be unlearned? And, is the exploitation of nature or other species ever justifiable?鈥�

In class, he鈥檒l lead an exercise in argument mapping to 鈥渂reak down the various worldviews presented by a novel or film and look who is presenting those views, how they clash, and how they’re reconciled.鈥�

The exercise 鈥済ets students to slow down, look past the aliens and the spaceships, and really confront the profound and topical questions about the environment and our place in it that a novel like Dawn 肠辞苍惫别测蝉.鈥�

Why 乐播传媒? 鈥溊植ゴ� struck me as an institution that really strives to navigate a balance,鈥� Harper says. While 鈥渦pholding the traditional concept of a liberal arts college as a space in which students are able to think on a campus 鈥� free from the distractions of the world around them,鈥� the college also works to bring 鈥渢he liberal arts model into the 21st century.鈥� 

Imagining Extinction: British science fiction writers of the 1800s and early 1900s, like Mary Shelley, Edward Bulwer-Lytton, and H.G. Wells, imagined that the natural world was the prime threat to human life.

In their works, 鈥渘ature was re-imagined as not only a threat to the species, but a threat to the very moral vision that informed Western thinking about humanity in general,” Harper says. He calls this 鈥榚nvironmental nihilism’: the threat of meaninglessness posed by the recognition that nature is completely indifferent to human existence.鈥�

In Britain during the early Romantic era 鈥� the late 1700s into the early 1800s 鈥� these initial extinction narratives also tended to “imagine threats to the species as arising from absolute catastrophes that could not be avoided or prevented,鈥� he explains. 

Later, particularly in the wake of Darwin’s discoveries in the mid-1800s, the threat of extinction was re-imagined as 鈥渟omething that could be mitigated by human ingenuity and power, something we might be able to prepare for politically, technologically, scientifically and so on. This view still informs contemporary reflection on human extinction.”

The idea that nature was the major threat to humankind changed after the U.S. dropped atomic bombs on Japan: 鈥淗uman extinction was now recognized as something that humans might bring about,鈥� says Harper.

Now, climate change: A legacy of 19th- and early 20th-century science fiction is today鈥檚 belief that 鈥渨e can confront the threat of climate change with large-scale technological solutions, like geo-engineering,鈥� Harper says. 

However, clinging to a magic-bullet solution, he says, merely 鈥渂ecomes a way to avoid thinking about climate change as a political crisis.鈥� Today鈥檚 science fiction can address this avoidance and reinforce the politics of the climate crisis by imagining the 鈥渨ays different groups of people are more or less implicated by environmental violence.鈥� 

In other words, writers of climate fiction can show us new worlds after climate change and raise the question: Who gets to live in these new worlds? 

Any catastrophe, whether it threatens extinction or not, 鈥渋mpacts different racial groups unequally and acts on different communities in different nations unequally. It’s imperative that we think about a problem that seems fantastical but is in fact quite pressing.鈥�

Do we survive? 鈥淚 remain an optimist,鈥� Harper says. 鈥淏ut I think one of the reasons I’m drawn to thinking about human extinction is that there are people with tremendous power and wealth who take the question of human extinction very seriously. You have people in Silicon Valley building compounds in New Zealand in preparation for a coming climate catastrophe.鈥�

Harper adds, 鈥淲e have, especially in academia, a duty to think seriously about this as well and to draw attention to the oversimplifications that we see in a news item, for example, about Elon Musk wanting to establish a human colony on Mars as a backup if Earth were to become uninhabitable.鈥�

It was the Tuesday after Commencement, and Jane Costlow paced around her Hedge Hall office, up to her elbows in books, boxes, papers, and assorted memorabilia. The college鈥檚 Clark A. Griffith Professor of Environmental Studies was nearing the end of her 34-year 乐播传媒 career, and the only thing left was to pack up and move out.

The scene is repeated each year, of course, but more often recently with the retirement of the baby boom generation of faculty members.

Costlow tosses some papers into a recycling bin outside of her Hedge Hall office. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

I鈥檇 seen historian Michael Jones and his wife, Judy Head, empty his Pettengill Hall office. I鈥檇 listened to poet Rob Farnsworth speak of plans for his beloved books piled high in Hathorn Hall. I鈥檇 learned how historians Dennis Grafflin and John Cole went door to door on their Pettengill corridor, asking colleagues to adopt tomes they themselves couldn鈥檛 take home.

鈥淒on鈥檛 worry,鈥� said the student, who had picked up a book. 鈥淵our old friends will make new friends.鈥�

And I鈥檇 heard how my husband, historian Hilmar Jensen, had regretfully placed 200 of his volumes in boxes labeled 鈥渇ree books鈥� in the lobby of Perry Atrium. All were eventually claimed. Pausing one day to unload a final armful, he remarked to an observant student, 鈥淭his feels like saying goodbye to old friends.鈥�

鈥淒on鈥檛 worry,鈥� said the student, who had picked up a book. 鈥淵our old friends will make new friends.鈥�

For the generation of scholars and teachers who have painstakingly collected books by the hundreds, even thousands, the task of retiring and closing up an on-campus shop presents various emotional and practical challenges, not the least of which is, 鈥淲hat do I do with all those books?鈥�

Costlow pauses for a moment with a stack of books she’s packing in her office. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

That vexing question, along with other rites of passage faced by baby boomers emptying the scholarly bench, planted the original seed for my interest in documenting the last year of somebody 鈥� anybody鈥檚 鈥� teaching at 乐播传媒.

In August 2019, Jane Costlow gamely stepped into that role. There could have been no more willing, insightful, nor patient subject.

When her classroom teaching career stopped abruptly and early, in March 2020, due to the COVID-19 pandemic, she gracefully transitioned to remote teaching. When the semester ended (Costlow did not teach during Short Term), she spent long hours in her Hedge office, clearing the space for her replacement, a recent Ph.D. who will move in when he arrives on the 乐播传媒 campus sometime this summer.

Costlow met that young scholar at a symposium last year, and she knows he will teach courses on climate change and fiction; to that end, she鈥檚 left an assortment of books and other materials that she hopes he鈥檒l find useful, including a folder of papers about Lewiston and Auburn.

Costlow and her husband, David Das, discuss packing strategies during one of her moving sessions. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

Costlow begins a yearlong sabbatical this August, after which she will officially retire in August 2021. And she leaves at a particularly difficult time as 乐播传媒 鈥� administrators, faculty, staff, and students 鈥� confront the challenges of COVID-19 and the nation鈥檚 greater-than-ever awareness of systemic racism in U.S. society. 鈥淚 really feel for people,鈥� she said, knowing that she will no longer be an active participant in the coming struggles.

The pattern of sabbaticals, she said, 鈥減rovides an incredible luxury that we have as academics to take periodic time off 鈥� having a kind of Sabbath in your life. That actually gives us a little bit of practice at shifting gears, so it’s not completely unfamiliar to no longer have the demands of teaching.鈥�

What鈥檚 different now, she said, is no longer being driven by a need to complete this project or fulfill that obligation or stand for promotion.

Costlow began her office move-out in April by first reviewing its entire contents, deciding what to save, what to dispose of, and what to try to pass on to others. Some of her discoveries 鈥� such as two folders of correspondence 鈥� delighted her.

Costlow reviews the 34 years worth of accumulated files in her office filing cabinet. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

鈥淩ather than pitching those things, I actually wanted to go through them,鈥� she said. She read the approximately 100 letters, some of which she had written, others written to her.

She found an initial note from a young female graduate student, Jehanne Gheith (now an associate professor at Duke), writing her dissertation at Stanford on the Russian writer Evgeniia Tur, one of a number of women writers from the 19th century whose work and significance for cultural history has been retrieved by scholars over the past three decades, says Costlow.

鈥淚 was the only person, certainly in English, maybe in the world at that point, who had written anything about this woman writer. So Jehanne reached out to me, and we have since become very dear friends. It was cool to find the inaugural letter of our friendship.鈥�

In undertaking that office audit, she rediscovered a younger version of herself: a new scholar emerging from graduate school.

Other surprises included a few missives from her late colleague, French professor Dick Williamson, a 鈥渉ugely important person in the early years of my life at 乐播传媒,鈥� and a series of thank-you notes written by two other departed faculty colleagues when they were deans, Carl Benton Straub and Jim Carignan 鈥�61, thanking her for moderating a panel or serving on a committee.

Costlow holds a grading ledger from 1999. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

In undertaking that office audit, she rediscovered a younger version of herself: a new scholar emerging from graduate school, at Yale, 鈥渁 really wonderful graduate program, but one with a very traditional curriculum and entirely male faculty, which had been pretty much my experience as an undergraduate, as well,鈥� she said; and then arriving at 乐播传媒 鈥渋nterested in questions of women’s writing, feminist criticism, and different ways of thinking about cultural legacy and whose voices are heard.鈥�

As she looked at all the books she鈥檇 acquired, all that she鈥檇 read, and what she鈥檇 written 鈥� unpublished and published 鈥� and conversations she鈥檇 had with others, she was struck by how much had changed over four decades.

In particular, she thought of the number of women who are faculty now and their positions within the academy, and the waves of various attempts to fundamentally open up and change curricula and syllabi. 鈥淚 found myself looking back at the examples of how I have tried to do that, and the people that I’d worked with and leaned on.鈥�

“Be gone slavery of the kitchen.”聽 Costlow holds a聽 reproduction of a 1931 poster by Soviet painter Grigory Mikhailovich Shegal. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

She leafed through documents from a seminar she鈥檇 participated in when 乐播传媒 was developing courses for its new women鈥檚 studies program, decades ago, her mind on the past and the present.

鈥淩ight at this moment, I feel just how enormous the rock is that so many different people are trying to push up the hill of fundamental change,鈥� she said 鈥� people 鈥渨orking to bring all kinds of diverse voices and perspectives into the classroom and the academy.鈥�

鈥淵ou sometimes wonder: Where is the arc of the universe heading?鈥�

But then she has a troubling realization. 鈥淢y high school experience in rural North Carolina was my most diverse educational experience as a student 鈥� everything got whiter (and much more male)鈥� as she went on to college (Duke) and graduate school.

In high school, Costlow had African American teachers in math, and chemistry, and in homeroom. 鈥淚 particularly would love to be able to find out if they’re still around, to thank them for the work that they did.鈥�

As her mind flashes to the past and back to present, Costlow now is on the edge of tears. 鈥淚t鈥檚 that moment where you’re thinking back over your career and how much has changed鈥� 鈥� and how much hasn鈥檛. 鈥淵ou sometimes wonder: Where is the arc of the universe heading?鈥�

Jane Costlow on changes in higher education. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

And all those books. Some she already handed off to students at the end of the fall semester or as they stopped in to say goodbye before departing suddenly in mid-March. With the help of the building鈥檚 academic administrative assistant, Jeanne Beliveau, Costlow has distributed more volumes to students. Still others will go into boxes to be picked up by students as freebies.

Costlow has also arranged to send boxes of books of American nature writing to her friends and colleagues in the English department at Turgenev State University in Orel, Russia, with whom she鈥檚 had great interactions over the course of 30 years. 鈥淲ho knows what students will pick up and read in the future to get a broad sense of not just the American classics, but of diverse voices on the natural world?鈥�

A pile of titles Costlow has selected for her successor sits on one of her office shelves. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

She mentioned a friend, Professor Emeritus of History Dennis Grafflin, who is assembling his own archive of the teaching books of 乐播传媒 faculty as they retire. She gave him her copy of The Brothers Karamazov, falling apart, filled with notes and Post-its. 鈥淚 think it鈥檚 a fabulous idea,鈥� she said. 鈥淭here is something really precious about all of those marks that you leave in a book.鈥�

What will she miss most 鈥� or least 鈥� about 乐播传媒? That鈥檚 ironic, she said, since the campus has already emptied, and she鈥檚 already longing for all kinds of things: 鈥淭he salad bar in the Den for those days when I don鈥檛 bring anything from home; talking to colleagues; or surprising moments with students; the energy of 20-year-olds.鈥�

She will miss 鈥渢he focused attention to writing and being able to engage with students about writing because I love thinking about what makes good writing.”

She鈥檒l miss encounters with all sorts of colleagues, some in Ladd Library, others in Beliveau鈥檚 office in Hedge. 鈥淚鈥檒l miss that a great deal, just being able to go down and chat with her for three minutes and maybe run into David Commiskey [professor of philosophy] or somebody else in Hedge.鈥�

What she won鈥檛 miss: 鈥渢hose days when everybody is low-energy, including me, but somehow I have to crank it up to try to get the students going.鈥� She will not miss teaching at 2:40 in the afternoon. 鈥淚 always found that an impossible time to teach. I guess it鈥檚 my body rhythm.鈥�

She will not miss grading. She will not miss having to sit down with a stack of papers and contemplate 鈥渉ow it’s humanly possible for me to get through these papers and help students with their writing.鈥�

But she will miss 鈥渢he focused attention to writing and being able to engage with students about writing because I love thinking about what makes good writing. I’m always happy to talk with students, and a fair amount of what we do in a class is talk about what makes this work, what makes it powerful? Or why doesn’t this communicate with us?鈥�

Costlow shares a moment with Academic Administrative Assistant Jeanne Beliveau in Beliveau’s Hedge Hall office at the start of the fall 2019 semester. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College).

Although she鈥檒l miss her colleagues, she will not miss their departmental meetings. 鈥淭he wonderful kinds of conversations that you can have with people are the ones that are sometimes extemporaneous and unpredictable.鈥� And faculty meetings? She views them as 鈥渁 necessary evil,鈥� although 鈥渢here are times that faculty meetings are where we get to say really important things to each other 鈥� that’s at least as important now as it’s ever been.鈥�

Nor will she miss multitasking. But there are probably ways she will continue to multitask in retirement because, after all, 鈥渋t鈥檚 a constant in modern life, but it’s horrible.鈥�

鈥淭here鈥檚 this paradox: being in a super busy job, then these moments when the beauty of the campus takes your breath away.鈥�

Then, she鈥檒l miss her time alone on the 乐播传媒 campus, particularly those years when she worked in Hathorn Hall and would walk from Campus Avenue up the central path on the Historic Quad to her office. 鈥淗ow beautiful it was, these moments of quiet,鈥� she said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 the counterweight to multitasking. I love working at a place where you have to walk around to get to different places.鈥�

It can be a healthy work environment, she said, one that allowed her time for reflection and an opportunity to admire the landscaping designed by now-retired Bill Bergevin and others. 鈥淭here鈥檚 this paradox: being in a super busy job, then these moments when the beauty of the campus takes your breath away.鈥�

And finally, she will really miss the chance to travel with students, something that she has already missed this year, as have many of her colleagues. 鈥淚鈥檓 being optimistic,鈥� Costlow said, but she imagines she will continue to travel to Russia and other countries that she has not yet visited. 鈥淏ut in all likelihood, I won鈥檛 travel with students, and I鈥檒l miss that.鈥�

A Russian keepsake awaits packing. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

She anticipates her future with hope and pleasure, imagining it as a continuance of, not an end to, the last 35 years of her life at 乐播传媒.

She loves to read and write. She stays in touch with friends and colleagues in Russia. She maintains connections in Lewiston and Auburn 鈥渨ith groups of people that I love talking with.鈥� She鈥檚 been part of a book group for 25 years that continues to meet on Zoom during COVID-19.

One thing鈥檚 for sure: 鈥淚 just want to slow myself down. And the pandemic is oddly good for that.鈥�

鈥淚 love this community. And I’ve been restrained in the extent to which I鈥檝e had time to give to the community because of how all-consuming 乐播传媒 can become. So I’m looking forward to having a little bit more time to give there, although a lot of people warn you as you approach retirement, not to get yourself committed to too many different things at the beginning. That seems like really good advice.鈥�

Because of the coronavirus, some of the things she had imagined doing at the beginning of her sabbatical 鈥� such as taking a road trip to see family and friends in Virginia and North Carolina 鈥� are no longer possible, at least for the immediate future.

But one thing鈥檚 for sure: 鈥淚 just want to slow myself down. And the pandemic is oddly good for that.鈥� She has 鈥渄eep, heavy, intense academic鈥� projects that she鈥檚 working on, but she鈥檒l take a break from those. 鈥淚 kind of want to drift for a while, quite frankly,鈥� she said. 鈥淩ead whatever comes to mind. Go for walks. Garden.鈥�

Her neighbor gave her some sourdough starter, so Costlow, a longtime baker, is growing her repertoire. And she鈥檚 returned to the piano, an instrument she played often while growing up. 鈥淚t was symbolic,鈥� she said, to clear the papers, library books, and COVID-19 masks from the piano to make space for the sheet music that has allowed her to get slowly back into Bach鈥檚 鈥淭wo- and Three-Part Inventions.鈥�

Mostly, she says, to the extent that it鈥檚 currently possible, she wants to go on really long walks. She and her husband, David Das, assistant director for the Center for Global Education, do a lot of walking together. And she walks, socially distanced, with friends. But there鈥檚 something about solitary walking that she truly likes, and there are some great places, including conservation lands, in her neighborhood.

Costlow pauses to consider how to move these framed 1950 aerial photographs of Shackleford Banks from her office to home. “They’re images of a place I love – a really wild, undeveloped island you can only get to by boat. But they’re also images of islands that ‘drift’ 鈥� they get reshaped by water and storms. They remind me of climate change and sea level rise. How much longer will they be there?鈥� (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

鈥淚 am not going out to exercise,鈥� she said, taking guidance from Thoreau in his essay 鈥淲alking,鈥� in which he talked about the mindfulness that should come with a good, long walk 鈥� famously saying, 鈥淚 am alarmed when it happens that I have walked a mile into the woods bodily, without getting there in spirit.鈥�

Mind and body together on a walk 鈥� 鈥淚鈥檝e done a little bit of that, which is really kind of wonderful,鈥� Costlow said, describing a long exchange of looks she had with a chipmunk. 鈥淏ut we don鈥檛 do that when we live lives where we internalize our clocks so intensely, and you have to go on to your next meeting. One doesn鈥檛 do that. And it鈥檚 really not healthy.鈥�

If anyone can start out on a long walk, and do it well, Jane Costlow can. Here鈥檚 to her continued good health.

鈥淚鈥檓 damned lonesome,鈥� a research subject in his 80s told Grace Ellrodt 鈥�20 last year. 鈥淏ut I don’t know what the hell to do about it. I just don’t know.鈥�

For sure, there’s no one-size-fits-all cure for loneliness, a condition particularly troublesome for older people. But with the help of that widowed Maine farmer and more than 50 other folks who shared personal experiences or professional expertise, Ellrodt has assembled an impressive new resource for lonely elders and those who support them.

鈥溾�� is first and foremost an online gallery of photographs and stories depicting the 29 people who shared their own experiences with Ellrodt, an environmental studies major from Lenox, Mass. Loneliness was a central theme in the interviews that she conducted in and around Lewiston, Maine, and during study abroad in Temuco, Chile. (The photos are also hers.)

鈥淚’ve interviewed older adults who told me that loneliness is like a darkness, you’re just alone in the darkness,鈥� says Ellrodt. But on the other hand, there’s the woman in her late 70s who鈥檚 earning a college degree, is a social activist, and who says that 鈥渓oneliness just exists in your mind, essentially. You just have to get out, get moving.鈥�

Bringing a strong record of community engagement to The EngAging Project, Ellrodt, a recipient of the Harward Center鈥檚 2020 Outstanding Community-Engaged Academic Work Award, addresses a widespread problem linked to adverse effects both psychological and physical. (A Brigham Young University researcher .)

鈥淟oneliness has been shown to contribute to heart disease, loss of motor control, dementia, depression, and anxiety,鈥� says Ellrodt, whose website describes six broad causes of elder loneliness, from financial insecurity to a disconnection from accustomed social and occupational roles.

In its 鈥淭akeaways鈥� and 鈥淭oolkits鈥� sections, respectively, the extensively researched EngAging Project proposes countermeasures against those causes; and it suggests strategies, comprehensive lists of action steps, and outside sources of assistance, all organized by specific constituencies, whether older adults themselves or local officials or policymakers.

An overriding theme of the project, though, is the role of place, specifically the importance of place in providing opportunities for social engagement among older folks, Ellrodt says. (Following the federal definition of older adult, her focus is people age 65 and up.)

鈥淚t’s a way of saying, 鈥楲et’s not focus on the public health crisis and epidemic of loneliness when aging is already characterized by problems.鈥� Instead, let’s make it about encouraging social engagement.鈥�

And Ellrodt focuses on the growing policy emphasis on so-called aging in place, where older people are encouraged to stay in their homes as long as possible. 鈥淏ut loneliness seeps into these arrangements,鈥� she says. 鈥淚f this is to be a sustainable trend, we鈥檒l need expanded state and local support.鈥�

Still, the EngAging Project positions lonely older people as the prime movers in their own healing. 鈥淲hile they need support, such as infrastructure and emotional resources, it has to be their own process and they have to be in control,” she says.

The website was Ellrodt鈥檚 major project for an environmental studies course that substitutes substantial published writing for the customary senior thesis. The project鈥檚 focus, she allows, may seem unconventional for environmental studies 鈥� but she sees at least two strong connections. One is the considerable overlap between ES and the field of public health (the area in which she hopes to make her career, perhaps through journalism).

Then there’s sociologist Eric Klinenberg’s concept of “social infrastructure” 鈥� in Ellrodt鈥檚 words, 鈥渢he programs and physical places where we form bonds, where social cohesion happens. 

鈥淎nd one of the main things Klinenberg talks about is 鈥榯hird spaces,鈥� places like libraries and public parks, but also the diner down the street.鈥� That widowed farmer, pre-COVID-19, found friends and companionship at The Settlement, a gas station-cum-restaurant in the town of Sabattus.

Francis Eanes, visiting assistant professor of environmental studies, taught this semester’s edition of that capstone course, 鈥淓nvironmental Writing in the Public Sphere.鈥� And Ellrodt, he says, 鈥渞easonably makes the case that 鈥榮ocial infrastructure,鈥� the web of social networks and institutional offerings that foster human connections vital for staving off loneliness, is inextricably bound up with the built environment.鈥� These are integral parts of ES, he says.

Begun as a yearlong thesis, The EngAging Project morphed into Ellrodt’s final project in the capstone, for which seniors develop an online portfolio of writings for public consumption. To Eanes, the project exemplifies the intentions of a course designed to unpack complex socio-environmental phenomena for diverse constituencies, including 鈥渁ging lonely individuals, caregivers, families, and practitioners and policymakers,鈥� he says.

“Some loneliness is natural, but long-term and intense loneliness is unnecessary suffering. We have a community responsibility to intervene.”

Ellrodt has been both 鈥渁rtful and rigorous鈥� in fusing solid research with rich human stories, Eanes says. She strikes a 鈥渟ensible balance between asset- and deficit-based approaches鈥� by offsetting the real harms of elder loneliness 鈥� harms rooted in economic and societal structures 鈥� with depictions of 鈥渢he amazing personal qualities and solutions that her aging subjects offer.鈥�

Ellrodt’s interest in public health comes in part from her parents, who work at the Berkshire Medical Center, in Pittsfield. Her father is Dr. Gray Ellrodt, who chairs the Department of Medicine at the hospital. She recalls, 鈥淲e鈥檇 sit at the kitchen table and he would take a napkin and draw charts of the different social determinants of public health trends that we were seeing鈥� in Berkshire County, which shares certain economic and demographic qualities with the Lewiston-Auburn region. 

A philosophy minor, Ellrodt also points to a biomedical ethics course at 乐播传媒 as informing her thoughts. 鈥淓lder loneliness isn鈥檛 just a societal 鈥榬esource strain,鈥欌�� she says. 鈥淚t represents an injustice. Some loneliness is natural, but long-term and intense loneliness is unnecessary suffering. We have a community responsibility to intervene.鈥�

She zeroed in on elder loneliness as a research topic while studying public health practices in Chile in 2019. 鈥淚n conversations with my host mother, herself an older adult, as well as my own dad, we arrived at this question of loneliness among older people as a public health crisis.” And that question found its way into the interviews she conducted among Temuco residents.

Those subjects included indigenous people and European descendants; and in Maine, in addition to European descendants whose local roots go back generations, Ellrodt talked to older adults from the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Mexico, and Brazil.

鈥淭here’s a unity鈥� among all the subjects in terms of how they comprehend loneliness, Ellrodt says, 鈥渂ut there’s also such a disparate experience. And so I’ve been navigating it, really, just by letting interviewees define aging for themselves, define loneliness for themselves, and set out what brings them social integration, or prevents that.

鈥淎nd then once they’ve each articulated that for themselves, I鈥檓 allowed to come in and find patterns and differences.鈥� 

So, even as The EngAging Project is abundantly researched, Ellrodt has been deliberate about putting storytelling at the center of it. While there are patterns of experience common to humans confronting loneliness, even across cultural differences, ameliorating loneliness is always an individual journey, and storytelling reflects diversity and individuality.

鈥淲hat kinds of social bonds are you looking to form?鈥� she wonders. 鈥淲hat is your identity? What is your life history and how is that being interrupted by the process of aging?鈥�

In her profiles, Ellrodt combined audio and photos with the texts. 鈥淰isuals and voices make the storyteller human 鈥� more than worthy of our eyes and ears,鈥� she says. She framed most of the photos, she adds, to conceal the subject’s identity. 鈥淭hat was not only as a comfort for the photographed, already sharing so much,鈥� she says, 鈥渂ut also lets the subject take on qualities of any older person you may love, or wonder about as you flit by, or imagine yourself becoming in time.鈥�

Something Ellrodt has heard a lot during the past few months is that the COVID-19 pandemic has made The EngAging Project more relevant than ever. But the truth is just a semantic difference away: The problem of loneliness among older adults was no less relevant back when they were isolated not by a pandemic but by infirmity, distance, or a lack of money.

鈥淲hile we see an alarming swell in loneliness right now, loneliness ran deep and wide through older adult communities long before COVID,鈥� Ellrodt says, 鈥渁nd it will remain long after COVID.鈥�

Jane Costlow struggles to find words to convey how she鈥檚 feeling. 鈥淚n a way,鈥� she says, 鈥淚 don鈥檛 know how I鈥檓 feeling.鈥�

In her 34th and final year in the 乐播传媒 classroom, Costlow, the college鈥檚 Griffith Professor of Environmental Studies, has seen her in-person teaching career end in a way neither she, nor anyone else for that matter, could have ever imagined.

On Friday, March 13, 乐播传媒 suspended in-person classes, asking all 1,700 students 鈥� except those granted waivers through petition 鈥� to move off campus in preparation for remote learning, which began on March 23.

Costlow is no stranger to catastrophic scenarios. A day before the announcement, she led a discussion in her course 鈥淐atastrophes and Hope,鈥� which explores disaster narratives that may serve as 鈥渄ire warnings, offer glimpses of hope, spur us to change our lives, or scare us into denial.鈥�

During that Thursday class, Costlow led a discussion of author Svetlana Alexievich鈥檚 collection of oral histories of the Chernobyl disaster, Voices from Chernobyl. She asked the students to imagine that Alexievich was interviewing them, because that’s what the author does, she explains.

鈥淪he interviews ordinary people who have lived through extraordinary circumstances. And so I asked them to write a piece as though Alexievich had asked them, 鈥榃hat was it like to be at 乐播传媒 in March of 2020?鈥欌��

The idea for the writing prompt comes from experience. 鈥淥ne of the wonderful and frustrating things about teaching is that you’re always being confronted with new situations and new configurations of students. You have to learn to think on your feet.鈥�

That last day in class, Costlow gave her students another, optional, writing assignment. Instead of a traditional paper, they could pretend to be a character in Doctor Zhivago offering written advice to the paper writer.

The novel鈥檚 fictional characters had 鈥渓ived through profound psychological disruptions of revolution, civil war, displacement, separation from families, famine, and epidemic,鈥� says Costlow, 鈥減eople who have had the rug pulled out from under them really big time.鈥�

Yet Costlow believes that the novel offers 鈥減rofound examples of resilience and people鈥檚 will to live and continue.鈥� That鈥檚 why she thought it would be interesting to see if some of the students would be willing to choose this alternative to a traditional paper.

The class accomplished, yet again, what Costlow has devoted her career to doing: giving her students insight, context, and understanding. She enjoyed the session immensely despite the circumstances.

But at home later that evening, knowing an announcement to close was imminent, Costlow finally reacted. 鈥淚 felt really, really sad, because it hit me: 鈥極h, I鈥檓 never going to be in a classroom with students again.鈥� And I was just kind of overcome. It was the unexpectedness of it that made it really intense.鈥�

Costlow has always known that humor can help calm roiled water; she reminds her students that 鈥渨hat makes human beings resilient in the long run is being able to tell jokes and share some kind of morbid humor with each other.鈥� It鈥檚 part of what gets us through difficult situations, she says.

Although she kept the humor in mind on Friday after the closing announcement, Costlow found herself challenged in unprecedented ways, as students, some quite distraught, dropped by for goodbyes and reassurances.

At top, Costlow struggles with her emotions in her office with a student on the last day of classes. Above left and right, Costlow meets with Tommy Novick ’22 of New Canaan, Conn., and Ava Gulino ’20 of Wilmington, Del. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

鈥淚t was excruciatingly difficult,鈥� she said. 鈥淚 just really wanted to go into my 鈥� I鈥檒l call it a 鈥榤aternal mode.鈥�  I wanted to comfort them and hug them, but it was already kind of a situation where we weren’t supposed to do that. I felt powerless to care for them in a way I might normally have tried to care for them.鈥�

But then a helpful realization kicked in.

Above left, Michelle Desjarlais ’22 of Albuquerque, N.M., also stopped by and received a social distancing鈥揳ppropriate elbow bump from Costlow instead of a hug. Above right, Dianna Georges ’22 of Clifton, N.J., received Costlow’s reassurances that they would see each other again next year. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College) .

鈥淭here鈥檚 a continuity in my relationships with them as their adviser or their teacher.鈥� In that role, she was able to calm and reassure them. 鈥淲e’re not going to sit here and talk about your thesis, but we’re going to pick up and continue doing it online. The situation won鈥檛 be that different.鈥�

And for those who weren鈥檛 seniors, she offered the consolation that although she won鈥檛 be teaching or advising them next fall, she will still be around to connect with them. 鈥淚’m not moving to the wilds of Russia. You will see me again.鈥�

Those goodbyes remind her of a favorite Russian proverb: 鈥淟ong, long goodbyes lead to too many tears.鈥� It鈥檚 time to move on.

As her last campus semester evaporated in front of her, Costlow suddenly realized that she might lose the chance to engage in a traditional rite of faculty retirement: giving books from her office collection to students as gifts.

On that final Friday, one student left with two volumes about Siberia. Another received Lydia Zinovieva-Annibal鈥檚 The Tragic Menagerie, a book of Russian stories translated by Costlow herself. A third received a copy of Tolstoy鈥檚 Anna Karenina, inscribed by Costlow. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a great time to dip into a fictional world that鈥檚 completely different,鈥� Costlow said.

At top, Costlow’s sense of humor kicks in on March 13, 2020, as she suggests some reading, Roy Scranton’s We’re Doomed. Now What? Essays on War and Climate Change, for thesis advisee Ava Gulino ’20 of Wilmington, Del. Above left and right, Costlow pulled these volumes off her bookshelves and inscribed them for students as they dropped by her Hedge Hall office. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

Now working from home in Auburn, Costlow has created a backdrop for Zoom meetings with students in her two winter-semester courses. Not a digital one, but a real one. There鈥檚 an antique pie safe 鈥� a tin bureau punctured with holes to keep the pastry aerated and bug-free, and a framed black-and-white drawing of a man with a hat, sketched 19 years ago by her son, Dinesh, then 12.

The 乐播传媒 faculty had about 10 days to prepare 鈥� many for the first time in their academic careers 鈥� for remote teaching and learning. Costlow spent much of that week determining how to rearrange her syllabi, in part, by polling her students, 28 in one class, 35 in another, to get a sense of what their situations were.

Given 乐播传媒鈥� international student body, Costlow knew that 鈥渟ynchronous classes wouldn鈥檛 work because people are really all over the place.” She arrived at her approach through 鈥渁 little bit of trial and error,” along with robust support from the college鈥檚 Information and Library Services.

Slowly, she felt less unsettled. She created short PowerPoint presentations to offer introductions and context for material. She鈥檚 divided the classes, including her course 鈥淟ives in Place,鈥� into discussion groups of five and six students who discuss reading topics and then write blogs that are both responses to the readings and reports about their day-to-day experiences.

The blogs have been unexpectedly wonderful, she says, because there are some students who have opened up on the blogs, some of those who have been very quiet in class. 鈥淭here’s an interesting way in which having a different medium of communication opens things up for certain students.鈥�

In the midst of the second week of online teaching, she鈥檚 aware of what鈥檚 changed and what hasn鈥檛. 鈥淚 still have a stack of papers I have to grade. Right? I do need to sit here and read through them.鈥� Yet reading their papers 鈥渋s where I feel like I’ll encounter each student, personally.鈥�

During a Zoom conversation, Jane Costlow describes how she felt when she realized she had just taught her last class in a 乐播传媒 classroom. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

An unexpected benefit of remote teaching, says Costlow, is the opportunity 鈥渢o get a little bit of a peek into their home lives.鈥� To re-launch her classes, she asked students to create one-minute 鈥渞e-introduction鈥� videos about where they were and how they were feeling, and what they were experiencing.

鈥淚t was really great to see their faces and see where they are,鈥� to be able to see their pets and their loved ones moving in the background. 鈥淭hat’s kind of cool. I think that you learn a little bit more about your students when you get a sense of them in the context of their family lives.鈥�

But it’s also been clear that this new reality is, above all, stressful. Whatever their family鈥檚 circumstances, part of the stress results from 鈥渉aving gone off to college and become an independent adult. And then, suddenly, you’re back in high school mode, where you’re living in the house with the rest of your family.鈥�

Remote teaching has presented entirely new challenges. A student asked her during a Zoom conference: 鈥淚n your experience, has there been anything like this? Was it like 9/11?鈥�

No, she told him. The pandemic feels very different to her 鈥渂ecause of the time frame.鈥� Sept. 11 was a series of events followed by shock and a subsequent 鈥渦nfolding sequence of political disruptions and consequences.鈥�

There was uncertainty after 9/11, but not interminable uncertainty of the kind we鈥檙e feeling now. We don鈥檛 have a sense of time.

As her students studied the Chernobyl disaster, they read an essay by the sociologist Kai Erikson, who describes what he calls a 鈥渘ew species of trouble鈥� in the form of radioactivity and 鈥渢oxic disasters.鈥� Such events 鈥渄on’t follow the law of plot,鈥� Costlow says.

With most disasters, such as floods or fires or hurricanes 鈥� the disasters that she lived through growing up on the coast of North Carolina 鈥� there鈥檚 a beginning, a middle, and an end. 鈥淵ou know something’s coming. There’s confusion and complexity of whatever happens. Then the thing passes, followed by the aftermath.鈥� Erikson鈥檚 conclusion, that toxic disasters don鈥檛 provide any sense of closure, resonated with Costlow鈥檚 students as they tried to make sense of COVID-19.

鈥淭here鈥檚 an amorphous sense of uncertainty about exactly what the disaster is and when, if ever, it was.鈥� It certainly applied to Chernobyl, she says, but it also gave them language to consider for today鈥檚 pandemic. 鈥淲ithout the law of plot, there isn鈥檛 anything we can look forward to. I really can’t think of anything analogous to this in my own life,鈥� she says.

People have been asking each other how they are doing, she concludes, and 鈥渨e all kind of look at each other and say, 鈥業 have no idea.鈥� I mean, it’s kind of numbing. The structure of trying to do this semester is in some ways comforting, but I just can’t get over how strange and unsettling it is.鈥�

She worries about her students, the college, and her colleagues. 鈥淚t鈥檚 been very gratifying to see the extent to which faculty have reached out to each other online to try to provide advice, but also support for each other.鈥�

But in the end, she says, 鈥淚 don鈥檛 know. It just feels unreal.鈥�

As our world is rapidly warming, the field of environmental careers is rapidly expanding.

As a result, 乐播传媒 environmental studies majors have their choice of ways to tackle environmental problems 鈥� a whole world of professional opportunities to explore.

In January, six 乐播传媒 alumni who work in the environmental field returned to campus to share their experiences and advice with current students. Here are some takeaways that are sustainable both for environmental work and for the 乐播传媒 students pursuing it.

Pick a problem; pick a passion

The panelists agreed that whether it鈥檚 food waste, water infrastructure, or environmental justice, the sooner you find an issue you鈥檙e passionate about, the better.

鈥淪tart to think really critically about what problem you want to solve,鈥� said Emma Conover 鈥�16, who works on water issues for Ceres, a nonprofit that helps companies become more sustainable. 鈥淢aybe it’s super specific, maybe it鈥檚 general, but just try to think about what that issue is, and start to think through how that could translate into a job.鈥�

Phil Dube 鈥�16, a graduate student at Yale, speaks at a panel on environmental careers, sponsored in January by the Center for Purposeful Work. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

This kind of focus can help an environmental studies graduate stand out in the field, said Phil Dube 鈥�16, who is pursuing a master’s鈥� of environmental management at the Yale School of Forestry and Environmental Studies.

鈥淚f you鈥檙e in a position where you can do something that鈥檚 unique and it’s in line with your interests, I highly recommend you take advantage of those opportunities,鈥� he said.

Networking is key

Once you find an issue you鈥檙e passionate about, it鈥檚 important to start building connections around it, said Conover.

鈥淗ave conversations with alumni, have conversations with your friends, people you know, and just strengthen those relationships, so when a job comes up, you already have those relationships,鈥� she said.

The alumni advised using platforms like LinkedIn to manage professional networks and stay up to date on the latest issues impacting a particular field.

At a January gathering of 乐播传媒 alumni in environmental careers and students interested in those careers, Emma Conover 鈥�16, right, shares a laugh with fellow Ceres employee Sarah Sachs 鈥�18, center, and Hoi Ning Ngai, an associate director at the Center for Purposeful Work. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

鈥淚t’s really great for job searching, internships, finding people in a field you might be interested in, and staying up to date on news,鈥� Conover said.

In fact, all six panelists stressed the importance of networking, offering personal examples of how their connections got them to where they are today. They told students not to fear reaching out to someone and starting a conversation 鈥� you never know what kind of opportunities it could lead to.

Pop the bubble

Though it may seem counterintuitive, one of the most meaningful experiences while at 乐播传媒 is actually getting outside of 乐播传媒.

Lucy Brennan Perkins 鈥�14, the sustainability program coordinator for the city of South Portland, Maine, said it鈥檚 important to talk to people who are different from you and immerse yourself in the local communities.

Lucy Brennan Perkins 鈥�14 speaks about her work in South Portland’s sustainability office at a January gathering of 乐播传媒 students and alumni. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

鈥淲orking out in the community is so valuable,鈥� said Perkins, who spent a summer working for Lots to Gardens, a program of the St. Mary鈥檚 Nutrition Center that turns vacant lots in Lewiston into urban gardens. 鈥淚 gained such an appreciation for Lewiston that I did not have before as a student in the 乐播传媒 bubble. Do your best to get outside and work across your differences.鈥�

Get international

Climate change is a global problem, so environmental work often requires a global perspective.

“Going into grad school, I was one of the most well-traveled internationally,鈥� Dube said. 鈥淎nd this becomes a big advantage especially when working with climate change, a global issue.”

In addition to spending time in the local Lewiston community, it鈥檚 important to get experiences beyond Maine and beyond the U.S. as a whole.

鈥淕o on those Short Term trips,鈥� Dube added, explaining that spending a semester abroad or taking a Short Term with a travel component can help one鈥檚 understanding of climate change as a global issue and how it impacts communities around the world.

Write, write, write

Sure, some of us can鈥檛 wait to stop writing essays when we get out of 乐播传媒, but don鈥檛 underestimate the power of the written word. The writing skills that 乐播传媒 nurtures are something you鈥檒l carry the rest of your life, said Jeffrey Porter 鈥�85, an environmental lawyer and chair of Boston Harbor Now, which works to sustainably develop Boston鈥檚 waterfront.

鈥淭he ability to write and express yourself in writing and orally, and organize your thoughts and be persuasive, that鈥檚 really what matters,鈥� Porter said.

Environmental lawyer Jeffrey Porter 鈥�85 speaks with 乐播传媒 students and fellow alumni at a January gathering to help environmental studies students network and get career advice. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

Mike Lydon 鈥�04 said his writing skills helped him launch his urban planning business, Street Plans, in 2009. In 2011 Lydon published a short pamphlet based on observations from an urbanist blog he ran. He wasn鈥檛 expecting it to reach many people, but said, 鈥淚 posted it online and in a few months there were like 10,000 downloads.鈥�

鈥淚t was the writing that really helped me take my passions, my angle, my lines of inquiry, and my questions and express them in a way that was very clear to people,鈥� said Lydon, who is an internationally recognized writer as well as an urban planner and advocate for livable cities.

The panelists agreed that publishing articles, pamphlets or short updates on your work can help you expand your platform and allow the issues you care about to reach a wider audience.

Anticipate future issues

The environment is changing, and our approaches to climate change are changing along with it. It鈥檚 important to keep tabs on emerging issues, said Dube. How, for example, will we continue to get water to Los Angeles in the decades to come? How will general water usage, green infrastructure, and the management of chemical contaminants shift in tomorrow鈥檚 world?

Entrepreneur Mike Lydon 鈥�04 talks with Phil Dube 鈥�16 at a January gathering of alumni in environmental careers. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

Moreover, if climate change becomes a priority to the U.S. government, this could drastically change the job opportunities in the field. 鈥淭he government hires a lot of consulting firms,鈥� said Dube.

Dube also stressed the importance of staying up to date on the news and continuing having conversations with those who are already working in the field to be more aware of emerging issues.

Explore

Part of the beauty of the liberal arts degree is that you have the opportunity to take classes outside of your major. Take advantage of that, the panelists advised. If you鈥檙e a biology major, don鈥檛 be embarrassed to take a class in art history, music, econ or Latin American studies. You鈥檒l be surprised just when your diverse expertise might come in handy.

Hannah Broadley 鈥�10, who studies invasive insects as a postdoctoral researcher at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, said she makes the most of her liberal arts degree on a daily basis.

Postdoctoral researcher Hannah Broadley 鈥�10 greets students at a January gathering of 乐播传媒 alumni in environmental fields. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

鈥淚鈥檓 using my background in Asian studies to be a better collaborator to my colleagues in Japan and China and Korea,鈥� she said. 鈥淚’m using my art classes to present my tables and my graphs in a much better way.鈥�

Having diverse interests and experience can make you stand out over other career candidates as well as help you form connections about the role of environmentalism across different fields.

All in all, the candidates agreed that 乐播传媒 prepared them well for the work they do now, and not just academically. 鈥淯se 乐播传媒 as a resource, but go beyond that too,鈥� said Conover.

Various shelves and closets, both in and around Jane Costlow鈥檚 office in Hedge Hall, are filled with bound senior theses from years gone by.

Costlow selects one and reads the acknowledgement. The senior thanked Costlow for 鈥渁n enlightening process鈥� during a time when Costlow was 鈥渄ealing with hard times herself. She made herself available and helped me through my own.鈥�

Costlow wonders about the 鈥渉ard times鈥� reference. Checking the date, 2009, she remembers: 鈥淭hat was the year my father died.鈥� Such touching acknowledgments are a 鈥渞eminder of these wonderful students I鈥檝e had,鈥� Costlow says.

Jane Costlow reads the acknowledgments from a former student’s senior thesis. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

The college鈥檚 Clark A. Griffith Professor of Environmental Studies, Costlow is now in her 34th and final year in the 乐播传媒 classroom. Adding it all up, she鈥檚 advised well over 100 thesis students in her career.

鈥淭he heart of the thesis experience is having a student who comes once a week and sits in your office and talks with you about this topic that they鈥檙e having the pain and the pleasure of getting to know a lot better, that they鈥檙e really diving into,鈥� she says.

In that sense, it鈥檚 timeless, no different from when Costlow first began. 鈥淚 really love the one-on-one interaction.鈥�

Jane Costlow meets with thesis student Erin O’Farrell ’20, environmental studies major from Burke, Vt., who is writing on the photography from Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico with an environmental perspective. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

The one-on-one model is also intensive, making the month of March a notorious crunch time for both seniors and professors, coming in like a lamb and going out like a lion as seniors generate reams of thesis pages for their advisers in advance of the April 10 submission deadline.

As March progresses, says Costlow, faculty 鈥済et more bleary-eyed just because of how many pages they have to read.鈥�

Easing the load somewhat in recent years is a new thesis option for environmental studies majors. Instead of a traditional independent thesis, they can choose to take a seminar course called 鈥淓nvironmental Writing in the Public Sphere.鈥�

Environmental studies major Hermione Zhou ’21 of Shenzhen, China, speaks with Costlow about possible thesis topics for next year. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

Costlow taught the seminar last year, guiding students in major projects including documentary film and long-form digital journalism, such as podcasts. 鈥淭hey鈥檙e really useful formats and genres for students to learn about producing work for which they still have to do all of the deep research鈥� required for a traditional thesis.

One of her 2019 seminar students, Hugh Kenny 鈥�19, produced a film about the Auburn, Maine, agricultural zone; now he鈥檚 working as a communications fellow and videographer for the Piedmont Environmental Council, a land trust in Virginia.

This semester, Grace Ellrodt 鈥�20 of Lenox, Mass., started as one of Costlow鈥檚 thesis advisees then switched to the thesis seminar, a better fit for a project that grew out of work she鈥檇 done in Chile and Colombia investigating the public health issue of loneliness among older people. Ellrodt鈥檚 project includes a photography exhibit and website 鈥� a launching pad, she hopes, for a career in digital public-health journalism.

Grace Ellrodt ’20 discusses her thesis in Costlow’s Hedge Hall office at the beginning of the fall 2019 term. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

It鈥檚 no coincidence that many of Costlow鈥檚 thesis advisees are interested in film and photography. Costlow, who for many years taught in the college鈥檚 Russian program, teaches courses in environmental literature and over the years has expanded her interest in visual culture.

鈥淚t鈥檚 something I always did when I was teaching Russian because it鈥檚 such a fabulous way to give a rich, complex sense of the culture. And our students are really visual,鈥� she says. 鈥淚n environmental studies, we do a lot of class work in looking at documentaries and photographic traditions that have been really important in American environmentalism.鈥�

For example, one of her current thesis students, Ava Gulino 鈥�20 of Wilmington, Del., is focusing on the island of Antigua to explore the connection between tourism and photography. 鈥淪he鈥檚 looking at how Antigua gets represented and marketed as a 鈥榩aradise,鈥� and what that marketing tends to obscure or erase,鈥� Costlow explains. 鈥淎nd then, within that context, she鈥檚 also looking at what it might mean to be a mindful and responsible visitor.鈥�

Ava Gulino 鈥�20 of Wilmington, Del., meets weekly with Costlow in her office. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

Costlow herself has just finished writing a paper that is, in part, about contemporary Russian photography. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a good example of how my own work and student work can overlap in some ways.鈥�

At 乐播传媒, the thesis experience varies enormously from one academic division to another. In the social sciences and especially in STEM disciplines, for example, thesis topics often reflect a faculty member鈥檚 research, with students becoming integral members of their adviser鈥檚 lab.

鈥淎nd that鈥檚 really exciting,鈥� Costlow says, noting how meaningful it is for students of environmental studies colleague Holly Ewing to do field research on water quality on Lake Auburn, read the literature, and then make sense of it.

For majors in the humanities, the experience and approach is different, Costlow says. 鈥淚t almost always involves letting the student become the expert,鈥� she says. 鈥淭he student becomes the person who, in a way, is teaching you.鈥� The student, in a way, becomes the 鈥渟age on the stage.鈥�

Jane Costlow describes the joy of senior thesis advising and how she helps seniors develop their topics. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

Often, her advisees will choose a subject about which she knows very little; in that situation, Costlow鈥檚 approach as adviser is to ask good questions and push back against assumptions. 鈥淚t鈥檚 up to them to develop expertise and read broadly within the relevant literature.鈥�

She worked with one thesis writer who was investigating the treatment of elephants in northeastern India. Costlow knew little about the topic and learned a lot 鈥� an experience, she says, that can mean 鈥渞eally stretching yourself as a teacher to think about how you can be helpful.鈥�

The theses on the shelves in and around Costlow鈥檚 office don鈥檛 just sit there. She pulls out certain ones to show current seniors how past writers have approached a certain topic.

Costlow inspects thesis binders stored in an environmental studies area in Hedge Hall. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

One favorite was a thesis written by Patricia Noto 鈥�12, now a landscape designer at G2 Collaborative, who explored how colleges and universities developed farms and gardens on campus. After writing an outstanding thesis, she wrote a proposal for how 乐播传媒 could develop such an operation.

Of course, there are the infamous bumps, if not complete washouts, on the thesis road.

There are the advisees who, week after week, refuse (or say they forgot) to try a new approach or resource. Costlow recalls asking a student to consult with one of the college鈥檚 research librarians. 鈥淥ur librarians are incredibly valuable sources of insight 鈥� not just information. They give student tools they鈥檒l use all their lives.鈥�

But week after week, the student reported that he鈥檇 not yet done so. Finally, in the dying days of the semester, the student had the meeting. 鈥淲ow!鈥� the student exclaimed to Costlow afterward. 鈥淚 should have gone to see him months ago!鈥�

Costlow chuckles at the memory. 鈥淢y only regret was that I didn鈥檛 have him on video, so I could show all my thesis students.鈥�

When it comes to evaluating and grading this pivotal capstone, the thesis is 鈥渃ompletely unlike any other grading experience,鈥� Costlow says.

Costlow discusses thesis ground rules with fall semester thesis advisee Lars Schuster 鈥�20 as he embarks on his study of offshore wind farms in New England. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

With each student, she tries to have an initial conversation, an up-front opportunity to discuss what鈥檚 involved in writing a thesis and what she expects a student to do in terms of source materials and bibliography, so that she has something to return to when she needs to say, 鈥淭his is really not adequate.鈥�

That rarely comes to pass, partly because, she finds, the students are really grading themselves, 鈥渟ort of playing against themselves. They鈥檝e set a standard of what they鈥檙e capable of, and you hope they live up to it. And you hope they set high goals for themselves.

鈥淭hat鈥檚 my way of saying that I have different expectations for different thesis students based on my understanding of who they are as a student.鈥�

Costlow opens a senior thesis by Colin Schless ’04 titled “Two Roads Maine: A Study of the Nature in Healing.” (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

And then there are the students who blow off their regular meetings. At that point, Costlow isn鈥檛 going to play games. 鈥淚 say, 鈥榊ou know what? You鈥檙e close to graduating. You鈥檙e grown up. If you think you can pull this off without my input, give it a try.鈥欌��

One student never came in to see her and spent the last 10 days of the semester camped out in the program鈥檚 lounge writing day in, day out. 鈥淗e handed in an amazing thesis 鈥� for the first chapter and a half. Then it just fell completely apart.鈥�

And then there are the big kahunas: the year-long honors theses. A memorable advising experience transpired last year with an advisee who investigated the concept of dignity and migrant labor in her home state, North Carolina, where Costlow also grew up.

鈥淚t was just a sheer joy to work with her,鈥� she says, because the thesis embodied the powerful interdisciplinarity of environmental studies, incorporating political and intellectual history, ethnography, and nonfiction creative writing. The alumna has gone on to work with migrant laborers in the South.

Costlow reads a thesis acknowledgment. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/乐播传媒 College)

As the month of March marches toward the end of the winter semester, Costlow approaches the conclusion of her thesis advising. She opens another black binder and reads the acknowledgment: 鈥淚 enjoyed our meetings where we not only discussed subjects pertaining to my thesis, but also current events, activism, and personal stories. I will miss those meetings.鈥�

So will Costlow.