One of the things that is particularly different between the British and American university experience is the relationship between students and professors. Back home in Leeds, we’re encouraged to call our tutors by their first names, yet our rapport with them remains distant and professional. In South Carolina, students call their professors by their formal titles, yet housesit for them, become friends with them, and go to their houses for pizza, cake and a film.
I opened my syllabus for my History of American Women module at the start of the semester to see an asterisk under the tasks due this week: *‘REQUIRED MOVIE: “Iron Jawed Angels” to be viewed out of class. We will try to arrange a group showing or you can watch it on your own.’ I had assumed that this would be a gathering in the library’s viewing rooms, or a case of renting the DVD for a quiet night in. Little did I anticipate that this meeting would take place in my professor’s sitting room last night at 6.30 p.m.
In Leeds, it’s novelty enough when students catch tutors located out in the real world, outside of the student bubble. To quote Janis Ian from “Mean Girls,” seeing professors outside of school is considered unnatural…“like seeing a dog walking on its hind legs.” It’s even stranger to stumble across (or search for, admit it) professors’ Facebook and Twitter profiles, because we just can’t seem to separate their academic roles from their entire identity. What’s more, the professor whose house I visited last night is the most esteemed academic I’ve ever had the privilege of learning from, making the invite seem even more prestigious- and yet, it was so peculiarly natural and unassuming.
We pulled up to a beautiful large house a short drive away from campus, and were welcomed by the professor herself as if we were regular visitors. While we waited for her husband to come back with the pizzas, we stood around her kitchen island discussing all sorts of things as if we were at a dinner party; the NHS, alcohol laws, life in Leeds and the importance of studying abroad. Forty minutes later we’d devoured the delicious pizza and taken our seats in the lounge next door, in front of a mounted wide-screen television. The film, “Iron Jawed Angels” is about the journey of Alice Paul (Hilary Swank) and Carrie Chapman Catt (Angelica Houston) as they led the fight for female enfranchisement in the USA. It was so incredibly captivating and moving that all ten us of sat in complete silence for its entire duration.
As the credits rolled up the screen and I wondered why on Earth I’d never seen this film before, my professor scrutinized the credits with intent:
“Oh never mind, I can’t find it,” she said to herself.
My friend turned to me and whispered, “I wonder how historically accurate it all is.”
“I think that’s the sort of thing Marjorie will know,” I suggested.
My friend turned around and asked Marjorie this very question. Then came the jaw-dropping reply,
“Well I was trying to look for the name of the Historical Consultant for the film in the credits just now, but I couldn’t see it. It’s in there somewhere, it’s my name.”
Marjorie told us the story of being approached by the film producers, and the dazzling treatment she received in the process. HBO flew her to Washington and back in a day, complete with limousine transfers to and from the airports. She was also treated to a spread of whatever food she desired (it was Indian, a fine choice). After Marjorie reviewed the first copy of the script, she was invited to a follow-up meeting to view the first production of the film.
She exclaimed “…and it was so funny, because after all that celebrity treatment they gave me, they hadn’t changed a darned thing!”
Other fantastic stories we heard included the time she was invited to view a copy of the 19th amendment of the United States, which granted the vote to women in 1920. Only the twist in this tale was that when she got there, she peered over the glass to exclaim, “This isn’t it!” to the bewilderment of all around her, and was whisked down corridors straight to the exhibition’s curator to enlighten the situation with her incredible wealth of knowledge.
We sat in Marjorie’s living room for over an hour, talking, speculating, debating and laughing. One of my favorite things she said was purely a side note:
“The pizza is fantastic isn’t it? My husband and I always say that no matter how much we travel and see the world, there’s nothing better than ordering a Pizza Man, opening a beer and sitting down to watch the news together.”
As we stood up to make our way out, Marjorie reclaimed our attention as she scrolled through news updates on her phone.
“Is that what I thought it was?” She asked urgently.
“Obama has just made Janet Yellen the first ever woman to be head of the Federal Reserve!”
Not only had I been sitting in my tutor’s house, admiring her endless, powerful wisdom and watching my now favorite film about the progression of women, but I was lucky enough to share the very moment that the history of American women took another step.