Teaching Existential Despair as a Religious Studies Scholar

Over the past 15 years, like many professors at highly competitive universities, I have been deeply disturbed by the growing mental health crisis and the suicides that have occurred tragically among some of the most well-supported, well-adjusted, accomplished, often wealthy, and elite students from around the globe. Why do these young adults who have seemingly “made it” into elite colleges and have bright futures and usually large support systems suffer so often from mental health issues? I have served on faculty senate committees, spoken with hundreds of students, worked with counselors and psychologists, pedagogy specialists, and joined a faculty task force to develop alternative approaches to teaching. I have worked with students on issues of inclusion, anxiety, fear of failure, and general existential despair over the seeming meaninglessness of a life focused on a vague notion of success at the cost of every other aspect of daily living. Many students whom I have spoken with have noted that the university's response to mental health issues, stress, anxiety, and suicide on campus has been to add more counselors, open hotlines, etc. Elite universities have a combination of funding, experts, and both care for their students and a deep fear of lawsuits. Why do problems like this persist? The universities have been reactive and responsive but generally have not looked closely enough at the causes of mental health problems—sexual assault, substance abuse, and, according to students—time and competition. Students have continually told me that they feel that learning is reduced to accomplishing and to accolades. They want courses that do not pit students against students in competition for grades that make education an endurance test more than an evolving relationship with knowledge. They crave an educational experience that is not solely about accumulation, retention, and performance. While these courses have their place and diligence, competition, and a degree of anxiety are part of any pursuit that challenges the mind and sharpens the intellect, students want some courses that treat them as adults who want to learn but that are not designed to test their simple ability to “plow through material.” They wanted an education that was not completely tied up to training. They also argue that support groups, counseling sessions, and advisors are fine and helpful but take time that they already feel they do not have. Furthermore, they feel selfish, complaining about their “first-world” problems. They are the elite and so feel that they have no “right” to complain. They often do not turn to their parents because they do not want to disappoint the very people who have pressured them to “get into” college and are paying very large tuition bills. Through these conversations, I completely rethought how I teach and my designated role as a gatekeeper of knowledge and figure of educational authority. I wanted to focus on education and not training. Education is different from training (sometimes we have to train ourselves in technology, languages, research methods, scientific method, etc., and that is fine and good; I have done lots of training in my life and train graduate students regularly). Education is a process that hopefully creates more complex and empathetic persons who take their thoughts, their feelings, and, most importantly, those of others seriously. Education is about learning to appreciate, to reflect, to respect, and to care. Training has its place, but there has been a slow creep to make all education simply a form of training. I taught courses called “Living Deliberately” and “Existential Despair,” which focused as much on student well-being and emotional, physical, and psychological flourishing as they did on transmitting a body of information and training traditional writing and research methods. In this article, I will focus on the latter. How do we, as teachers, bring a focus on well-being and human flourishing into the religious studies classroom? This experimental course seeks to combine creative pedagogical methods and alternative scheduling to encourage intellectual reflection and emotional vulnerability through an in-depth study of how people cope with existential despair. Through reading memoirs, novels, and poetry, in an atmosphere conducive to close-reading and full-participation students explore a wide range of ways of coping with, describing, and comprehending moments of great despair. Lectures explain the ritual, liturgical, homiletic, meditative, reflective, self-destructive, psycho-somatic, and ascetic ways despair is both conditioned and mitigated by different thinkers from various traditions over time. This course is different from most others in that there is no homework, no class preparation, no outside reading, and no research papers. There is no work given to students or expected of them outside of class. All work is done in class, and the class is very long (8 hours straight, once a week, from 4:00 p.m. to midnight). Students eat together in class; there are bathroom breaks, but there is no internet, no phones, no note-taking, and no computers. Each student must be fully committed to class, and 75% of the grade is determined by class participation. Each Tuesday night for 15 weeks, we read a single book cover-to-cover in class (some weeks—two small books, several short stories or poems). We also listen to a single book once for 7 hours straight. At the beginning of class on Tuesdays, there is a 1-hour lecture introducing the author, the reading, and the religious, historical, social, and economic context in which the book was written. Then, the students read the assigned book for 4–5 hours straight in silence together in the same room (a room with couches and/or comfortable seating). They read the assigned book (which they do not know about ahead of time) from cover to cover. The books will range from 150 to 320 pages maximum to ensure that each student can read each book in a 5-hour sitting from cover to cover. Students are not permitted to take notes, make comments, etc., while reading—simply read, that is it, for 5 hours straight. After reading the book, there is, depending on the book, a writing, artistic, or small group discussion exercise, followed by a 1–2-hour discussion about the book and the writing assignment. Each week, there is a different theme (see below). Since the theme of the course and the readings can be very emotional and psychologically challenging, there are resources provided by the university's psychological counseling services. Since the course ends at midnight on Tuesdays, there are escorts waiting to guide students home if needed. Much like the rationale for “Living Deliberately” above, this course grew out of a desire to create a learning experience that was not competitive but was rigorous. A course that demanded serious attention and awareness but that was not anxiety-producing nor isolating. In another vein, I was also frustrated that my students seemed to never read for pleasure or learn for the sake of learning. Learning for them was about worksheets, group projects, presentations, term papers, etc. These are all great pedagogical methods, but I rarely saw students around campus simply sitting and reading a novel or wandering and exploring the library without a specific assignment or goal in mind. The university, according to many students I interviewed, actually inhibited curiosity and the love of learning by making all education task-oriented. Furthermore, in surveys I did with students in a number of my large courses, almost none of them had either read a book for pleasure (they did read a lot of “self-help” books and “inspiring biographies” though in order to learn how to be successful) nor read a book cover to cover since being in college and many said they had not done this since they were about 9 years old. Since that age, learning has become an arms race of SAT prep, activities, and clubs designed to cultivate “well-roundedness” on college applications, and competitions, presentations, and internships. Education had become divorced from exploratory learning and centered on training (see above). I wanted to teach a course in which students learn how to “single-task.” In my course, for the first 5 hours, there will be no excuses, no internet, no phones, no speaking, no stating of opinions, no napping, and no unauthorized breaks. They learn, hopefully, what many of them never experience—uninterrupted reading of profound literature from cover to cover. They learn to not brush boredom away with a check of their texts, to avoid difficult feelings of sadness or anger through social media, doing dishes, drinking beer, or chatting with friends. Reading a novel or memoir from cover to cover, like Silence, The Bluest Eye, The Year of Magical Thinking, Giovanni's Room, or In the Country of Last Things, without taking notes, accumulating information, preparing for a test, or writing a paper is something students almost never do. Just to sit with ideas and emotions without a rush to avoid, perform, or analyze. Many students state that they long to just look at a painting, read a book, and listen to a piece of music without needing to perform their insight or write up their brilliant analysis. I have found through teaching the course that the level of discussion and the quality of analysis after students read an entire book at one sitting in silence is much higher than I get in my other courses. The short writing exercises I have done with students have yielded much more honest and carefully constructed papers than ones they write in a rush based on poorly written notes in between working on several other tasks, taking breaks, cutting and pasting, etc. The discussion also ensures that students “have done the reading” as they do it in front of each other—no hiding, no pretending, no performance, just reading. Since students do not know what they are reading in a session until they arrive at four, they cannot compete with others by reading ahead, looking up facts on the internet, etc. “Professor McDaniel has created a space in which the pretensions which so often surround academic endeavors here at Penn are cast aside in the name of a sincere appreciation for the beauty of learning. To eliminate this class would be to affirm that learning can only be practiced here if it is to serve a professional goal.” “This course is what is missing in today's curriculum. To be able to sit with a book free from distractions evokes a nostalgic feeling of reading for the sake of reading. Not reading to write a paper about it, or present about it. The complex ideas we faced in each novel had me reflecting on my actions, intentions, and morals in a subtle yet effective way. I was pleasantly surprised at how natural it felt to sit and flip through pages without discomfort. It was like riding a bike. Tuesday's from 5-midnight became a highlight of my week and set the theme for what quality of existence I would reflect on for that week.” “Existential Despair has been my favorite course at Penn thus far. First, it has been much more effective than CAPS [Psychological Counseling Services at Penn] at helping me manage my depressive symptoms by addressing the existential root of my despair. Second, it has been both a relaxing yet challenging experience: challenging in forcing us to separate from our phones and sit still for seven hours straight, but relaxing because we're removed from constant reminders and surrounded by a wonderful group of people in a safe space to discuss our greatest fears and deepest emotions.” “Professor McDaniel has created this space that has, for me, become almost like group therapy. I think the structure of the course as is, while demanding, is necessary to reap the full benefits of his teachings. I loved the book selections as well as the lectures about the authors' bios.” “This course was amazing to take. The professor cared deeply for his students and how they were doing, and it allowed the students to take a break from the Penn culture and reflect upon what it is they actually put meaning into, what it is they deem meaningful.” “I think this course should 100% be run again. It is of extreme benefit to students. I not only learned about great novelists and great novels but also about what it is to process grief and meander through the intricacies of life without being numb to life.” “This has been the best class I have ever taken at Penn (this was my seventh semester). Every week, I looked forward to this seven-hour break from technology and everything else where I would be 100% focused and dedicated to this class. I strongly recommend anyone who has the opportunity to take Existential Despair to do so.” “Professor McDaniel inspires students to go out of their comfort zone and talk about topics that are often hard and very personal. This class stimulates us not only to make reading and good literature part of our hobbies/routine, but also drives us to share experiences and learn from each other. I am sure this class helped me grow as an individual and become more prepared to face difficult situations in life.” “This course was a fantastic course and it would be a horror if students were not allowed to take something like this again. This course epitomizes what a liberal arts education should be about—allowing students to explore, and for learning to not so much be a didactic teacher & strict curriculum but rather a way of learning that can both expand and improve the mind and the life of the person who takes the course.” The books chosen for this course change from semester to semester. They are nearly all fiction or poetry, and there is always one audiobook and one film. They are generally a mix of “classics” and newer, highly acclaimed and respected novels or poems. These are not obscure books nor academic ones. They all focus on characters that have faced serious emotional, spiritual, and psychological despair, and the novels explore the various ways they confronted, avoided, and survived it. Authors are a mix of women and men from all over the world and have included Paul Bowles, Elizabeth Smart, James Baldwin, Yukio Mishima, Federico Lorca, Marie N'Diaye, Samuel Beckett, Carson McCullers, Rebecca West, Charles Bukowski, Valeria Luiselli, Emma Donoghue, Vladimir Nabokov, Kenzeboro Oe, Naguib Mahfouz, Nicole Kraus, Langston Hughes, Fernando Pessoa, Christopher Isherwood, Philip Larkin, Elena Ferrante, Amitav Ghosh, and many others. Themes explored in the discussions and novels include: death of a friend or family member, Torture, persecution, genocide, martyrdom, suicide, loneliness, hopelessness, pain and sickness, guilt and shame, sexual identity, racial anxiety and persecution, fear of failure, break-ups, fear of death, and other subjects. They are not explored systematically but through conversation based on the books, in-class writing exercises, and even student-performed skits and monologues. When I started teaching these courses alongside my more traditional Buddhist Studies, Ritual Studies, and Asian Studies courses, I did not know much of anything about Positive Psychology and had not heard of the term the “Eudaimonic Turn.” However, to and James I started reading and this At I must I was not like and did not to course, this is what we would argue against the that should have a When I started about ways in which I to or learn from the I was and about how a focus on etc., to from and students about a of and a on This did not or to course, if support working and at and counselors and at their people will a more experience as they get through their daily I saw this as simply a natural from the of the the and the on the the I did not how as a professor of Studies in the learn from this or to its I was not preparing my students for in and I was teaching courses on Asian languages, and I am a of Buddhist Studies, for I was already teaching about human I I was simply frustrated with how and competitive my students I was not preparing them for paying or training them to be I was teaching something and I was not preparing them for the I was a teaching them about the of and how and had taught their on ritual, identity, and I saw as a for them to learn something and their into the working I was just students surrounded by great facts about and and were often so an friend and and James of this me that it was professors that were in complex approaches to this and I were about how our students seemed to the and that they were being by their parents or to avoid like and in of in and the is a professor of and and the of the college in at is the of often lectures and discussions on topics only to his and many of the people who to the lectures in the of the did not the and noted the of the people who to his lectures and was by how many were or and were to the to discussions on and and and They had been etc., for their but their time to go to and They did not to these lectures for for or for They simply to their time learning and, most working people in had the and time to do it. 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