Crazy Professor Lichtenberger Makes A Funny

Yesterday, I conducted a simple vote with my 3rd-year students, who study American Literature, asking them to write down which candidate they would vote for president if they could. As I expected, the majority of the students chose Obama. While talking about the election, I tried to remain neutral, pointing out the good and bad in each candidate. These students tend to develop their own opinions anyway.

Coming into class today, many of them were very excited about the outcome.

"Professor, Barack Obama won," one of the girls exclaimed.

"I am so excited that an African-American will be president," another noted.

Flashback in time. Early this morning, I attended an election party hosted by the American Embassy at a hotel in Bratislava. Unable to sleep, I woke up at 2 a.m. The event began at 9 p.m. the previous night, but I told myself I would attend if I woke up early in the morning. After laying in bed for nearly two hours, trying to decide whether getting up was worth it or not (wee hours are difficult), I crawled out of bed when my cell phone rang with my friends calling to tell me to join the election party. So, tired and a bit frustrated with a lack of sleep, I walked over to the hotel. On a ten-minute walk through the Old Town, I saw a total of three people. And people have dubbed Bratislava "Party-slava." Where do they get this idea from?

My frustation grew when I reached the hotel and approached the sign-in desk. After slowly spelling my last name and repeating it numerous times (as you can imagine, with a last name like "Lichtenberger", this process is expected but still annoying), the hosts told me to pick a button from a box partitioned in two. The buttons said "I support Obama" or "I support McCain."

Not noticing any other buttons, neutral, "Proud to be an American," or "I'm Just Here for the Free Food" buttons, I said, "I'd rather not wear a button, actually," First, I despise buttons; they put holes in clothes. Second, the candidate I supported was my own business.

"But you must wear one so that the security guards know that you are here for the election party," they responded, probably thinking this was a clever way to identify partygoers.

Recalling the time, 4 a.m., and that no one was in the lobby and no one stood between the host desk and the security guards, I desperately desired to defy them: "I think it will be okay if I go without a button and you just wave at them to say that I can enter."

Nevertheless, I decided to play the game. So looking into the box, I asked, "May I at least take both then?" Considering the time and the event ending in two hours and the number of buttons left, I figured they would let me. Not so. Upon taking a button, I walked 20 feet from the desk to the security guards, showed them the button, and put it in my pocket. I'm such a rebel.

I had imagined Obama would win the election; however, sitting in front of the television watching CNN announcing Obama would be the next president and listening to him speak in front of a crowd in Chicago, I began to wonder, "Is this really happening?"

I must be honest. At times, I have a slight affection for '90s rap. Ninety-five percent of the time, I despise the lyrics, the mistreatment of women and the language; however, every once in a while, I recall a song about social or racial injustices that I find particurally important. In one of these songs, an artist says, "We ain't ready to see a black president." Well, ready or not, here he comes.

Back in the classroom, thinking of the events of earlier this morning, I said to the class, "It is really amazing the changes that have occurred in the United States in the last fifty some years from the beginning of the Civil Rights Movement to today. I am pleasantly surprised."

Then, considering the race relations in Slovakia, I announced, "Someday, a gypsy will be president of Slovakia."

Nearly everyone in the class began to smirk and laugh. "A gypsy, president of Slovakia?" They questioned. "You're kidding. Professor, gypsies are different from blacks. They are lazy."

"Yes, this is true: they are different," I replied. "But all the same, someday, a gypsy will be president of Slovakia. Maybe not next year, or in five years, or in ten years, or in fifty years, but, in your lifetime, a gypsy will be president of Slovakia. A similar thing would probably have happened in classrooms in America fifty years ago if you said a black person would be president. So, you remember this day. You remember that crazy Professor Lichtenberger foretold this event years before it happened, and remember that you laughed."

People, ideas, and time all change in unexpectable ways. My students are just kids (I'm a pretty big kid myself, too) and must be reminded of the nature of life. I can only hope that the outcome of the U.S. election can play an important role for these people, my students and the citizens of this country I am learning about, not because of Obama's policies or popularity or what he will do, or won't do, as president, but because of the barriers that exist between people which are continuing to fall. I try to remember that by no means are race, social, or gender relations perfect now or even in the near future.

Jung developed the theory of Collective Unconscious, the idea that there exists a knowledge that is common to all people. Some would say through this theory that when one person discovers something, it becomes infinitely easier for someone else to discover this same thing. Whether this theory is a reality does not matter. It is similar to something Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote, just as injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere, a victory over injustice anywhere is a victory over injustice everywhere. Like as a smile is contagious in a crowd, perhaps the development of people is a benevolent infection that crosses oceans.

Be it in five years, ten years, or fifty years, I look forward to the day when I turn on my computer and hear that a gypsy is president of Slovakia. I like to imagine my students having children and telling them about crazy Professor Lichtenberger, his beard, and how he said a whole lot that they didn't quite comprehend then but, after years of consideration, finally understood.