Every few days, I get an email from a particular organization. The organization’s name and the emails’ subjects are not important. It’s the name of the sender that causes my heart to sink every time I see it. The woman’s first name is Andrea, and her last name is the same as the last name of my former dissertation advisor, who was partially responsible for me not receiving my Ph.D. If it were just the last names they had in common, it probably would not be an issue, but said dissertation advisor’s first name was Andrew. Each time these emails pop up in my inbox, my heart sinks as I always misread them as my former dissertation advisor’s name. Only one letter differentiates their names. It’s only for a second, and then I realize my mistake. However, it makes me realize just how traumatized I was by that former advisor. His emails always brought some fresh new hell, and eventually, I became paralyzed with fear every time I received one of his emails.

Most of you know that I pursued a Ph.D., but I never finished it. There were many reasons for that: funding and the need for me to get a job. I ended up teaching 7th-12th grade social studies and English at a small private school, and teaching six different preps a day and dealing with challenging students left me with no energy when I got home at night, not to mention the amount of work I took home each night. Once I began working full time, I no longer had the time or the energy to continue researching and writing my dissertation. 

Before my teaching job, I had taken a year to devote entirely to finishing my dissertation, moved back in with my parents (trauma in itself), and had developed a set of deadlines to complete the chapters of my dissertation. I got the plan approved by my then dissertation advisor and moved home, and began to write. I met all of my deadlines within a week of their due date, but I felt I needed my advisor’s feedback before I could move onto the next chapter. Before I was assigned this advisor, I had an advisor that I had worked with closely throughout my graduate career. I knew what he expected, and he was excited about the research I was doing. My first dissertation advisor continuously encouraged my efforts. Then, he got a job in North Carolina and left. The department decided that this other professor, with whom I had never worked with and never took a class with, would replace my old advisor. This was a disastrous decision, and in hindsight, it is one that I should have fought and objected to, but back then, I was not assertive enough to do so. I am not a very assertive person today, but I was even less so back then.

My new dissertation advisor not only wasn’t familiar with me nor I with him, but he also hated my dissertation topic. He had been on my committee before as a minor member who was just supposed to offer some advice here and there but was not supposed to have the final say. I should have known there would be a problem with him as my dissertation committee chair when he held up my dissertation prospectus’s approval for over a year. Everyone else signed off on the proposal and was encouraging, but he insisted on certain changes. I will never understand this because he was the only member of my committee who was not tenured, and the other members should have overruled him, but they did not. I submitted one revision after another, taking into account his various criticisms. What was most annoying was that the final proposal was almost identical to the first one I submitted. I have always felt he gave me the runaround because he was insecure in his position and took it out on me.

Therefore, when he became my dissertation advisor, we agreed on deadlines that he and I would meet to keep the writing of the dissertation moving. He was supposed to review the chapters as I submitted them and suggest changes. If I remember correctly, he was given several weeks to do this. He took several months, and when he did return the chapters, I went through revisions similar to what he had put me through with the proposal. I was very frustrated. I seemed never to do anything to his satisfaction, and he repeatedly criticized my work when other professors did not. He held up my dissertation for so long that time was beginning to run out on my ability to finish. Finally, I got an email from him saying that he would no longer be able to be my advisor. He blamed me for the delays and said he could no longer work with me. In reality, I found out the university had denied him tenure, which was a requirement for him to sign off on the final draft of my dissertation. By university regulations, he could not be the chair of my dissertation committee. The department’s thought process had initially been that he’d have tenure by the time I finished my dissertation, and all would be fine.

At this point, I had to move on to my third dissertation chair. My final chair is who I should have begun with in the first place. I remember attending a conference at the University of Alabama that she’d also be attending so that we could sit down face to face and discuss my dissertation. I told her the problems I had with my previous advisor. She sympathized with me and told me two things. First, she apologized on behalf of the department because of all the turnover of faculty they had experienced during my time in the Ph.D. program. I had been lost in the shuffle. Second, she said that she had faced a similar situation where her dissertation advisor had balked at her dissertation topic. She said that she had persevered and wrote it anyway, winning them over with the final product. She told me not to give up, and she’d be behind me the whole way. This all sounded great, but that’s not how it worked out.

I had spent several years dreading emails from my previous advisor, wondering what fresh hell he was going to put me through. I was traumatized, and my psyche could not handle looking at my dissertation anymore. I was mentally and physically exhausted from teaching full-time at a private school that did not support me either, but I had financial troubles that were barely being held at bay with the meager paycheck I was getting from that job. At the time, I had issues, and maybe a good therapist could have worked me through those issues, but I lacked health insurance. During these years, I was also suffering from the worst headaches of my life, but I was not in a job that allowed me to take time off for being sick for any reason. I continued to teach whether I had a common cold, whooping cough, or the flu. As a teacher early in his career, I caught every disease the children brought to school, and for the most part, the school’s administration prevented me from taking sick leave. So, having a “little” headache was not an excuse for not coming to work. They never sympathized with just how much pain I was in.

I do not blame the circumstance surrounding my failure to finish my dissertation solely on a difficult dissertation advisor or with the lack of support from my graduate program. Although those two things were a major contributing factor, the blame also falls on me. In recent years, I have come to realize that while I was a great lecturer and could keep a college class enthralled to the point that they wouldn’t even realize that we had gone past time for class to be dismissed, I was not cut out for to be a middle and high school teacher. If I had received my Ph.D., I would probably be teaching at a community college or maybe even a university somewhere, and I would not likely be happy about it. I hated grading. I hated dealing with difficult students and cheaters. I hated the politics of academia. I would probably be miserable in a job teaching the same subjects semester after semester and if at a university continually trying to get published because of most universities’ publish or perish mentality. And if I had gotten my Ph.D., I would have never moved into the museum field and focused on public history. I still get to lecture and give presentations in my current jobs, but I no longer have to grade. I get to write and do research that I find exciting and rewarding. I get to do all the things I loved about teaching without having to do all the things I hated.

And by that destiny to perform an act
Whereof what’s past is prologue, what to come
In yours and my discharge.

—William Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act 2, Scene I

“What is past is prologue” is a phrase from The Tempest, Act 2, Scene I inscribed on Future (1935, Robert Aitken) located on the northeast corner of the National Archives Building in Washington, D.C. In The Tempest, Antonio uses this phrase to suggest that all that has happened before that time, the “past,” has led Sebastian and himself to this opportunity to do what they are about to do: commit murder. In the context of the preceding and next lines, “And by that destiny to perform an act, whereof what’s past is prologue; what to come, In yours and my discharge,” Antonio is, in essence, rationalizing to Sebastian and the audience that he and Sebastian are fated to act by all that has led up to that moment, the past has set the stage for their next act, as a prologue does in a play. When people quote the phrase “what’s past is prologue,” such as when it was inscribed on Future, the phrase means that everything up until now has merely set the stage for us to make our own destinies.

The second episode of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine is titled “Past Prologue.” In this episode, there is a moral dilemma for Major Kira where she has to confront her loyalty to her past life and what her new life is going to be. Kira had been a Bajoran terrorist/freedom fighter who had done many things in her past that were morally questionable, but she believed they were for the greater good to force the Cardassians to end their brutal occupation of Bajor. When a terrorist and former ally of Kira attempts to rid Bajor of the Federation for good, he tests Kira’s loyalties to the Federation, which is her new life. It is here that Kira must make a choice: will she let her past rule her future, or will she use what she has learned from her past to create a better future? 

Whether personal or the greater history of humanity, our history can teach us how the complexities and continuities of the past teach us that progress is possible but not inevitable. The lessons of history teach us the lives of individuals, the choices they made, the values they embodied, the risks they took, the challenges they sometimes overcame. This is known as historical empathy, which many historians believe is the ultimate goal of the study and teaching of history, even more so than historical objectivity. When I was in graduate school, my professors always stressed objectivity as the history profession’s highest goal, but this has begun to change in recent years. While objectivity is a noble goal, some historians believe it is impossible to achieve, and instead believe that historical empathy is more important. I think the two work hand in hand and are equally important.

As we study history, we encounter a vast array of people who thought, spoke, and acted in ways that are foreign to us. The world and culture to which we are accustomed are unique. Simply judging another’s thoughts, words, and actions based upon our cultural norms shows a lack of empathy for their way of life. It often indicates a lack of objectivity if we go into research trying to prove a particular perspective. Developing historical empathy is perhaps the most difficult but one of the most important skills we learn as a student of history. To empathize with the past of the people, we must first work out what motivated historical figures. 

The study of history requires us to articulate the reasons people, groups, or cultures acted the way they did. What did they want? What did they hate? What did they think was important? What did they want changed? History teaches that individuals make things happen and that achieving important victories requires wisdom, good judgment, courage, and persistence. History teaches that when faced with evil, good people must stand up for the good; otherwise, we will be in trouble. However, we must also understand what motivated those who stood up for good and those who stood up for evil. Understanding those motivations can help us understand our present and how we can make changes for the good of all humanity.

Wright State University in Dayton, Ohio, plans to terminate up to 113 faculty positions, including as many as 49 positions in the College of Liberal Arts. While many colleges and universities are streamlining liberal arts education and focusing on more “marketable skills” or “practical” disciplines such as the sciences and professional training, Wright State seems to be moving in this direction more than other colleges. Sadly, the liberal arts are suffering from the consequences of a culture war, where the humanities and the social sciences are seen as ideologically driven. As we have seen during the pandemic and the climate change crisis, science is also being derided by conservatives as ideologically motivated instead of driven by facts and research. Conservatives abhor educated individuals because they are less likely to be swayed by the Right’s faulty logic. They can more easily prey on the fears of the uneducated by telling them that their rights are being infringed upon by granting more freedoms and rights to minorities. For instance, Rep. Lauren Boebert (R-CO) recently accused Democrats of trying to rig the voting system, including attempting “to use taxpayer dollars to establish aggressive voter recruitment programs at leftist training camps — otherwise known as colleges and universities.”

No matter a student’s major, the study of history helps develop a deep respect for different societies and cultures. This recognition teaches students to respect regional and national differences to make them more socially aware and sensitive to other cultures. Significant accomplishments and change are never achieved without setbacks and the wisdom to make course corrections in one’s original strategy. History teaches that if great institutions are to survive and grow, they must balance preserving the core values that enabled past success while evolving and adapting to changing circumstances. The study of history prepares students to understand and meet the challenges of a complex and evolving world. History majors learn that the future is uncertain and unpredictable, including their future professional and life trajectory. History majors make important professional contributions in diverse fields, showing how the transformative power of a liberal arts education creates a better world. History majors can be found working at the FBI in counterintelligence and counterterrorism, helping to preserve the nation’s freedom; in law firms around the country, upholding the rule of law; at the Library of Congress, the research arm of Congress; as public historians, helping to preserve the nation’s history; and perhaps most importantly, in schools and museums, helping to educate our children and secure the nation’s future. These professions outside of historians’ perceived role merely scratch the surface of what history majors contribute to our nation and the world.