Every spring, I find joy in tracking whale migrations, particularly the right whales moving from the Carolinas into New England. There’s a pleasure in following whales during what tends to be a turbulent time in the academic year, when we balance the chaos of finals season with making summer plans. By comparison, whale watching feels straightforward: it’s refreshing to know that you’re looking for a spout or a fin, and to be able to devote your entire attention to such details.
As an avid student of environmental literature, whale watching brings me back to the multifaceted pleasures of scholarship–while I love Moby-Dick for its detailed descriptions of right whales, it’s a lot easier to share this fascination with my family when we’re all hoping to spot a whale than it is to read them a conference paper. I like whale watching because it reminds me of the rich payoff of helping students see the value of their learning outside of a grade. Even if the whales never appear and all we get is an expanse of water and a sunburn, for a moment, we are probing at the same mystery. The whales are beautiful, but the experience is so much richer when we get a glimpse of something we weren’t guaranteed to see. And in a time when questions about the ‘use’ of a university education abound, having the opportunity to look out at the sea and know what I am looking for is both a privilege and a gift…