He taught huge classes. Had the college elected to send him half the student body on the gym bleachers, he'd have done it because he was as devoted to the institution as he was to his students, as he was to his first love--history. For decades, most every Dordt College student sat through history with Arnold Koekkoek, often in the early, early mornings.
He wasn't shy of belittling people should they fall asleep. He was known to throw erasers. He wasn't shy of blackboards; by the end of the hour what was there, up front, seemed a jungle he dutifully erase before he left the room.
It was a performance, really, as lecturing, back then, sort of had to be. Among such lecturers, he was a Patton, sans expletives. I don't remember anyone who disliked his course, even those not particularly partial to the conflicts a thousand years in the past. History 201 was, back then--hard as it is to imagine today--required of every last soul enrolled, so everyone sat through the Peloponnesian Wars. The college believed history essential, and they entrusted a thousand young minds to a short, balding guy with a huge voice and a memory for names and faces and years, not to mention almost any lyric from Gilbert and Sullivan, lyrics he'd sing at the drop of a dime.
I knew Arnie Koekkoek as a prof, and later as a friend and neighbor. He was one of those faculty members still around when I became his colleague and our family moved into the neighborhood where he and his wife, Carol, were raising their family. He was, as we used to say, a blast, blessed with a huge smile and a booming bass that made it a joy to take a church pew in front of him.
Professor Arnold Koekkoek was a wonderful man, in some ways irreplaceable.
When he reached retirement age, a much younger coterie of history profs and administrators fought for smaller classes--say 35 kids or so; they argued that college students needed to discuss history among themselves in order to learn. Discussion, not lecture, was the key to making history alive for a student body coming to campus seemingly less prepared and less well-read.
The argument went like this: we can't teach history as it must be taught if we simply jam the room with students. No one said his name back then, but the argument assumed that history was never really taught well by Professor Koekkoek and his genre of professors. Small groups, lots of buzz, lots of discussion--that was the key. The lecture hall became a museum piece.
In a sense, the argument made the Arnold Koekkoeks of the world an anachronism, "a thing belonging or appropriate to a period other than that in which it exists, especially a thing that is conspicuously old-fashioned."
Try as we might, those of us who'd had Professor Koekkoek couldn't convince the young turks that, sadly enough, they'd never had an Arnold Koekkoek History 201.
When he reached retirement age, a much younger coterie of history profs and administrators fought for smaller classes--say 35 kids or so; they argued that college students needed to discuss history among themselves in order to learn. Discussion, not lecture, was the key to making history alive for a student body coming to campus seemingly less prepared and less well-read.
The argument went like this: we can't teach history as it must be taught if we simply jam the room with students. No one said his name back then, but the argument assumed that history was never really taught well by Professor Koekkoek and his genre of professors. Small groups, lots of buzz, lots of discussion--that was the key. The lecture hall became a museum piece.
In a sense, the argument made the Arnold Koekkoeks of the world an anachronism, "a thing belonging or appropriate to a period other than that in which it exists, especially a thing that is conspicuously old-fashioned."
Try as we might, those of us who'd had Professor Koekkoek couldn't convince the young turks that, sadly enough, they'd never had an Arnold Koekkoek History 201.
Well, of course we wanted the best for our students; but the best, in the eyes of those who remembered him up front at the chalkboard, was Arnold Koekkoek, whose classroom/lecture hall never once employed a small group. What I'll never forget my own inability to describe that having had Arnold Koekkoek in a class of 100 students was no disservice. My first book, almost fifty years ago now, I'm happy to point out, was almost entirely history. So is my last--published just a few months ago.
What's more true, however, is that the man was loved, still is.
When he retired from his lecturing, he became field general of his sprawling backyard garden, robust Iowa ground that eventually was dedicated solely to the most beautiful irises imaginable. I can't imagine he ever raised that big voice of his back there among his treasures, but I'd bet by the end of the summer those showcase irises heard half the Psalter Hymnal and most all of the silliness of Gilbert and Sullivan.
Arnold Koekkoek made my life--and the lives of many others--more wonderful. We'll bury something of him today, but that big bass voice isn't still, I'm sure. I don't doubt for a moment that heaven has choirs. Count me among those many hundreds of Dordt alumni who can't imagine him singing along, a thousand students or more who will never forget him.
What's more true, however, is that the man was loved, still is.
When he retired from his lecturing, he became field general of his sprawling backyard garden, robust Iowa ground that eventually was dedicated solely to the most beautiful irises imaginable. I can't imagine he ever raised that big voice of his back there among his treasures, but I'd bet by the end of the summer those showcase irises heard half the Psalter Hymnal and most all of the silliness of Gilbert and Sullivan.
Arnold Koekkoek made my life--and the lives of many others--more wonderful. We'll bury something of him today, but that big bass voice isn't still, I'm sure. I don't doubt for a moment that heaven has choirs. Count me among those many hundreds of Dordt alumni who can't imagine him singing along, a thousand students or more who will never forget him.
3 comments:
He was the desired professor and I never heard an unkind remark about his teaching abilities. I wished I had the opportunity to have him instead. That being said, I also enjoyed the one I had.
Professor Koekkoek was an exceptionally good teacher. Small group discussion work well if but only if the students are willing to put in the work ahead of time with close reading of primary texts. Not something likely to be the case in a 201-level course. But Prof. Koekkoek was not simply a booming voice in front of a large audience. On several occasions I spoke with him after class or asked a question and always received a clear and cogent answer. A man greatly to be missed.
I was a student with Arnold, grade 1 through 12. He was always at the top of the class. He made learning look so easy. Lydia Friend
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