2008 Woodie Awards
Painting Samford
Josh Rutledge
Issue date: 9/12/07 Section: Opinion
Chad Carson would have been fired at most schools. He would have been labeled a closed-minded professor with little respect for diversity. But after my first class with Carson last week, I think every school should have a professor like him.
The first day in Carson's class started out like most first days in a class - a 30-minute read through the syllabus, a stern warning not to be late and a breakdown of the grading scale. But toward the end of class, Carson grew quiet, leaning up against his desk as he changed the discussion from grades to faith. He re-told the story from opening Convo about a woman who lost her son at an early age but found comfort in prayers from the Samford band.
After Carson finished, a student in the back raised his hand. With a hint of hesitation from a voice choked in sadness, he asked if the class would remember him in prayer. His younger brother had passed away in a car accident. Both had been in the car.
The room was quiet until a few students suggested the class pray. Carson agreed, calling on the rest of us to bow our heads while he led the room in a short prayer. It was a unique moment. Not often does a business management course become a collective effort to comfort and pray over a fellow student.
I later told my friend Landon the story, and he enthusiastically responded, "That is it! That is it!" I couldn't have said it better. That is it. That's what sets Samford apart from countless other schools where Carson would have cleaned out his desk that afternoon. And just as important, that's what also sets us apart from other Christian schools that would toss out all professors not like Carson.
It seems our peace, then, is what makes us different - peace with those like-minded and peace with those who disagree. Of course we are not perfect. But it's a moment like the one in Carson's class that paints part of a portrait I am convinced this school can become.
And we can continue to paint that portrait by recognizing that our peace is derived not from a rulebook, but from our sense of community. If our standard is our place in the Samford family, then we cannot lose. After all, that's why Carson and the rest of us prayed - not because we felt morally obligated, but because our fellow Samford student was hurt.
The first day in Carson's class started out like most first days in a class - a 30-minute read through the syllabus, a stern warning not to be late and a breakdown of the grading scale. But toward the end of class, Carson grew quiet, leaning up against his desk as he changed the discussion from grades to faith. He re-told the story from opening Convo about a woman who lost her son at an early age but found comfort in prayers from the Samford band.
After Carson finished, a student in the back raised his hand. With a hint of hesitation from a voice choked in sadness, he asked if the class would remember him in prayer. His younger brother had passed away in a car accident. Both had been in the car.
The room was quiet until a few students suggested the class pray. Carson agreed, calling on the rest of us to bow our heads while he led the room in a short prayer. It was a unique moment. Not often does a business management course become a collective effort to comfort and pray over a fellow student.
I later told my friend Landon the story, and he enthusiastically responded, "That is it! That is it!" I couldn't have said it better. That is it. That's what sets Samford apart from countless other schools where Carson would have cleaned out his desk that afternoon. And just as important, that's what also sets us apart from other Christian schools that would toss out all professors not like Carson.
It seems our peace, then, is what makes us different - peace with those like-minded and peace with those who disagree. Of course we are not perfect. But it's a moment like the one in Carson's class that paints part of a portrait I am convinced this school can become.
And we can continue to paint that portrait by recognizing that our peace is derived not from a rulebook, but from our sense of community. If our standard is our place in the Samford family, then we cannot lose. After all, that's why Carson and the rest of us prayed - not because we felt morally obligated, but because our fellow Samford student was hurt.
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