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R. Clay Reynolds is a professor and director of creative writing at the University of Texas at Dallas. He is the author of more than 900 publications, including 13 books and 3 edited editions.
In a May 21, 2014,Washington Post column, Kathleen Parker alerted readers to a phenomenon in higher education termed “trigger warnings.”
This morning, an icy December predawn, about 5:30, Oncor, our utility company, performed a miracle. I’m not sure if anyone actually said, “Let there be light!”; but for a certainty, there was light—and heat—and it was good.
I’ve long wanted to go to Cuba for the same reason that most Americans my age might. I wanted to see a place that has, for most of my life, been shrouded in mystery.
Over the weekend of March 11, our daughter, Virginia, was married in the Arches National Park near Moab, Utah. She said she wanted to be married in a place surrounded by natural beauty, well away from trite tourism.
Not long ago, Texas Gov. Rick Perry shocked the nation by announcing that Texas might secede from the Union. This gave rise to a chorus of wry commentary as well as outraged responses from many who regarded the notion as arcane, if not patently absurd.
Most college and university professors know that even though students may successfully complete remedial courses and even a full slate of freshman and sophomore classes, many will still be unable to use proper language mechanics or to work with complex math formulas at an advanced level.
This past week, word came to me that a close friend and book-review editor of a major daily newspaper had been laid off after 16 years of service. The book page, one of the nation’s best, would be reduced by half, and his “replacement” would be a youngster from the city desk, a competent young woman utterly inexperienced in book-review editing; her salary is considerably lower than my friend’s was.
Westerns have never enjoyed much of a highbrow audience or much literary distinction. Many people tend to sneer at the traditional form, because it seems to represent something obvious and a little dumb.
The current debate about the state and future of higher education seems to center on the question of whether a college degree is a “privilege” or a “right.”
I recently experienced the most dreadful feeling of helplessness and fear imaginable in what undergraduate essayists call "our modern world of high technology." I suffered massive computer breakdown.
As an academic trained in the study and appreciation of literature, I have spent the better part of my life staunchly defending the ramparts of literary endeavor against the slings and arrows of outrageous pop-fiction lovers.
In an industry that trades on rumors of disaster, the tales flying around New York (which I use here as a synecdoche for major publishing houses anywhere) for the past several years are horrendous.
The current situation involving sexual harassment cases seems to underscore the correctness of this bleak vision. But regardless of what status universities may enjoy in the future, the most tragic result of this drama may be its negative impact on women's advancement in the academy.
It has always been my impression that people who talk and write most about the creative process are not usually very creative. It's sort of like a corollary to that old maxim, "Those who can't do, teach"; those who can't create, analyze creativity.
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