By Jason Yots
I was, of course, disappointed that the class did not survive, but I was mostly just embarrassed that I proposed an idea, imposed on the department chair and then fell on my face. I had attempted to throw a party in honor of historic preservation and my invited guests had to wash their hair that night.
Those emotions were soon supplanted by frustration. But it wasn't frustration born of the failure of the class, as much as it was frustration with the reality that Buffalo - a college town of sorts and a virtual living laboratory of historic structures - still does not have a regularly offered Introduction to Historic Preservation course, let alone a broader historic preservation curriculum. So what, you ask? Well, perhaps, except that historic preservation presents for Buffalo (and small upstate NY cities like it) a tangible and immediate economic development strategy, if only any one knew what the heck it is. Ask most people about their perception of historic preservation, and they'll likely respond with images of elitism, obstructionism and misplaced nostalgia. After all, historic preservation does not square neatly with the manifest destiny so many Americans pursue and treasure. Consume the frontier, and the past be damned.
With the Introduction to Historic Preservation class, I was hoping to introduce to a few dozen young people (OK, a dozen would have been plenty) to the philosophies that shape historic preservation, to the economic development that flows in its wake and, perhaps most importantly, to the meaningful career opportunities that lay within its inter-disciplinary folds. In short, I really just wanted a handful of young people to hear the story of historic preservation, and then decide for themselves whether they might be able to find a satisfying place within it. In the process, maybe Buffalo would have a few less ex patriates and a few more hands for the cause.
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