Karen Sullivan (she/her)
Bio: I am currently the associate director of alumni and family relations at Hampshire, but my background and EdM are in informal science education. I’ve spent most of the last 17 years doing robotics with upper elementary and middle school students.
Year of div 3: 1994
Summary of your div 3: I looked at middle school math and science classroom activities and arrangement and how they influenced participation among more reticent (shy, although I wouldn’t use that word now) students.
Hampshire influences : In ALL the ways. I learned how to work (research, writing, editing, taking feedback, reaching out to others), honed my self-reliance skills while further developing my collaboration skills.
What place on campus was significant to you? : So many places, but I especially like the hill between Alumni & Family Relations and the main driveway. It makes me think of my first visit to Hampshire. I also love the farm, mostly because I wish I’d spent more time there as a student. I love ambling through the woods behind the tennis courts (and landing at the farm).
Describe the on-campus place as you remember it.: (This is hard because I’m still at Hampshire.) Mixed Nuts was also special– I was a manager for several years and spent a lot of time there. I remember the smell of it, especially when we were housed in a truck trailer behind the Tavern. The scattered nuts, sesame sticks and other bulk items that might’ve spilled. The chest freezer that held the Ben & Jerry’s and these vegan moon pies (?) that I never ate. The walk-in fridge at the back, where I was always just a little afraid of getting trapped during my shift. The wood walls and countertops. Cutting about 100 pounds of cheese each week in the narrow space while folks shopped. Taking the knives and cutting boards to the Tavern to wash them. The big padlock on the the outer door.
What place off-campus was significant to you? : The Book Mill. I enjoyed sitting in the cafe with a friend and watching the river while reading and snacking.
Describe the off-campus place as you remember it. : Getting lost in the winding sections, hallways, weird floors. The building makes no sense, right? It’s not just me?
December 9, 2020
Dear December 1994 Self,
Greetings from the future. Remember visiting Hampshire for the first time on a raw Saturday morning during October Break in October 1989? You know how you had an interview in Admissions? If there weren’t a global pandemic going on in 2020, you’d be working in that same building five days per week. Funny how the world works.
Those four and a half years of college were kind of nuts. Up and down, intense, quick and slow at the same time. You’re probably pulling an all-nighter this week, just to show yourself that you can. You’ve always been a good student– not an amazing one– but a good one. You don’t push the limits on deadlines, you don’t stay up through the night. Ever. You’ll be no different in 2020. You’ll still kick yourself when you forget or misplace or neglect something and you’ll still be conscientious and circumspect.
All through elementary school, you heard about a fifth grade teacher who put refrigerator boxes around her students’ desks. It created privacy, gave students their own space, and provided them with three disposable walls to decorate. You anticipated it all through elementary school, looked forward to it, and ultimately hated it.
Now, you’re just finishing your Div III this very week, applying your fifth grade experience to find ways to engage reticent students in middle school math and science classes.
In one sense, you’re completing nine months of navel-gazing. But, in 2020, you have a fifth grade daughter and her school is on Zoom because of Covid-19. The 2020 version of refrigerator boxes. IT’S BONKERS. Each day, as you’re logging in at work (ha! You don’t even know what “Zoom” or “logging in” means yet because the internet is new), your daughter is joining her class’ morning meeting. The situation sucks, but her teacher is amazing. He would never choose to box kids in, but our safety demands it.
Watching your own kid, also reserved, being boxed in by the current global health situation will make you want to write a whole other Div III about the effects of the pandemic on education. Maybe your Div III chair would entertain the idea of chairing from retirement.
This week in 1994, you might be tired of all the feedback on your drafts, but your Div III chair is quite possibly the most conscientious person you will ever know. You may feel guilty that she spent as much time on your Div III as you did. You’ve cried a few times. But, you did it. You did it together. And she will remain in your life, remain your mentor. 25 years from now, you’ll lean over a table with her, passionately talking about how important Hampshire is to higher education while you each enjoy a spicy bowl of tortilla soup. She’ll show you how she adjusts her hearing aid with her iPhone, and she’ll advise you on how to turn your daily pandemic photo project into a book. You’ll teach her some of the finer points of Zoom and talk about new strategies for encouraging marginalized groups to speak up, a thing you’ve both been interested in for decades.
It will all be okay. Take a breather after ringing the bell, but then keep revisiting this special place, revisiting your Div III chair, revisiting your Div III. In a few years, you might be ready for more school, and after that, you’re going to do some really cool stuff with robots, collaborative learning, and teamwork. Your Div III will make so much sense during that robot phase.
Finally, don’t let anyone box you in, literally or figuratively, and don’t do it to yourself.
Love,
Your December 2020 Self
P.S. Don’t wait so long to get a dog. Honestly, that’s probably the best advice I can give you about the next 26 years.
What We Remember 