My professor invited the historian I criticized to our class. I wanted to disappear

[Augusto]

Remember my post about arguing against a famous historian in my research paper? The one I was terrified to disagree with? Well, my professor invited him to speak to our class. Via Zoom. With me in the room.

I wanted to disappear. Literally sink through the floor and never be seen again.

He gave his talk. It was good. He was charming, funny, brilliant. Everything you'd expect. Then came Q&A. And my professor, smiling like she'd planned this all along, said "I think one of our students has some interesting thoughts about your interpretation of the labor movement."

She meant me. She MEANT me.

I wanted to die. But I couldn't. Everyone was looking. So I asked my question. Stumbling. Nervous. Trying to be respectful but honest.

He paused. Long pause. I thought he was going to dismiss me.

Then he said: "You know what? I've been thinking about that recently. I'm not sure my interpretation holds up anymore. You might be right."

The room went quiet. I went numb.

We talked for another 10 minutes. Real conversation. Scholar to student. He asked about my sources. Suggested others. Said he looked forward to reading my paper.

Afterward, my professor emailed me: "Told you. Scholarship is conversation."

I learned something today. The famous historians aren't gods. They're just people who've been thinking longer. And good ones, the really good ones, are still thinking. Still questioning. Still open to being wrong.

I'm still processing. Still can't believe it happened. But I'm also different now. Less scared of disagreement. More confident in my own thoughts.

The past is safe. The present is terrifying. But maybe that's okay.

 

[Gregory]

Your professor planned this. She knew exactly what she was doing. She wanted you to see that your ideas matter. That you can hold your own. That scholarship is alive.

Best teaching I've ever heard of. Frame that woman's email.