https://classletters.org/authors/chinua-achebe/Recent content in Chinua Achebe on Class LettersHugoen-usSun, 22 Sep 2024 01:58:15 +0000https://classletters.org/posts/assorted/achebe_conrad_hod/Sun, 22 Sep 2024 01:58:15 +0000https://classletters.org/posts/assorted/achebe_conrad_hod/<p>In The Fall of 1974 I was walking one day from the English Department at the University of Massachusetts to a parking lot. It was a fine autumn morning such as encouraged friendliness to passing strangers. Brisk youngsters were hurrying in all directions, many of them obviously freshmen in their first flush of enthusiasm.An older man going the same way as I turned and remarked to me how very young they came these days. I agreed. Then he asked me if I was a student too. I said, no, I was a teacher.What did I teach? African literature. Now that was funny, he said, because he knew a fellow who taught the same thing, or perhaps it was African <em>history</em>, in a certain community college not far from here. It always surprised him, he went on to say, because he never had thought of Africa as having that kind of stuff, you know. By this time I was walking much faster. “Oh well,” I heard him say finally, behind me: “I guess I have to take your course to find out.”</p>