When students learn that I have been at Duke since 1966, they sometimes ask if Dukies have changed much over the years.
There’s been a glum feeling around campus these days, a mood that clashes with the exhilaration surrounding us in the natural world.
As I approach the start of my 80th year, it occurs to me that I have coexisted with one-third of the United States.
My students often call me “Professor,” presumably as a mark of respect. It always makes me uncomfortable, because I don’t feel like a professor; I feel like a musician.
A year or two ago, The Chronicle ran several columns by students recommending the end of faculty tenure. I beg to differ.
Some 20 years ago, Duke University opened, with some fanfare, the Center for Teaching and Learning.
When three white lacrosse players were found innocent of raping a black woman seven years ago, I estimated that they each received about three million dollars from Duke University in recompense for...
I’d like to begin this series by discussing the performance of music.
