Unexpected Lessons: Navigating My Journey Through a Class with Hillary Clinton - A Surprising Perspective on Empowerment

"Beyond the Microphone: My Semester in Hillary Clinton's 'Inside the Situation Room'"

From my strategically chosen aisle seat, I gazed at the lecture microphone, poised and ready. In front of it, an iconic figure loomed—Hillary Clinton. Regrettably, my interaction with this political luminary was limited to a solitary question over the entire semester spent in her course. Last fall, the news of Clinton teaching at Columbia University’s School of International and Public Affairs beckoned me, along with 1,200 other eager students. My application, fueled by impassioned essays, reflected the belief that Clinton’s five decades of public service would be a wellspring for my own leadership aspirations. I envisioned that sharing two hours weekly with a former senator, secretary of state, first lady, and presidential nominee would invigorate me in ways I hadn’t foreseen. Alas, my idealistic aspirations were soon confronted with a stark reality.

Clinton's course, titled "Inside the Situation Room" and co-taught with SIPA’s Dean Keren Yarhi-Milo, pledged to offer insights into the fundamental factors shaping a nation’s critical decisions. The inquiry from my peers, "What is her class really like?" echoed regularly. However, it wasn't merely a class—it was a production. On the first day, I anticipated a conventional classroom setting with around 30 students, typical for my program. Instead, I was met with a throng of several hundred people. Adjacent to them, a multitude of cameras belonging to journalists from various major outlets poised for action. To their right, Secret Service personnel exchanged hushed conversations into their radios. It was only 11:30 a.m., and our lecture wasn't scheduled until 2:10 p.m. The colossal class size, though arguably fair to meet the high demand, appeared to compromise our individual learning experiences. Every Wednesday for 12 consecutive weeks, I relinquished my lunch break to join the queue alongside 350 equally zealous students, all vying for a coveted front-row seat. By the third week, the atmosphere had transformed into a surreal waiting game, with one classmate humorously comparing it to "waiting for a celebrity concert ticket." He pondered aloud, "I wonder if I can sleep here tonight so I can secure a front-row spot to ask my question tomorrow."

"Behind the Cameras: The Intricate Dance of Learning in Hillary Clinton's Classroom"

On that eagerly awaited first day of class, navigating through the careful scrutiny of Secret Service agents, we settled into our seats, ready for two hours with the former presidential nominee. Yet, our anticipation was met with an unexpected twist—the class consistently ended half an hour earlier than scheduled, a pattern that persisted each week. Only a select few students managed to pose their prepared questions. The reason for this loss of a quarter of our class time? The crew documenting every session needed ample time to dismantle their intricate setup. The whispers circulating about next year's iteration of the class hinted at a shift — instead of weekly in-person lectures with Clinton, students might access videos of our sessions through a platform called Columbia+, a name that seemed more fitting for a streaming service than an academic resource.

In the classroom and on tape, we unwittingly played the roles of an audience at a late-night talk show, captivated by the cameras yet entangled in the theatrics of the production. We adhered to an unspoken script, oscillating between being active and passive, expected to chuckle at specific anecdotes but not encouraged to raise our hands. It became apparent that the allure of celebrity professors, like Clinton, was a double-edged sword for universities. While the recognizable name and impressive pedigree attracted attention, students, donors, funding, and opportunities for new initiatives such as Clinton's Institute of Global Politics at SIPA, these benefits came at a noticeable cost.

"The Trials of "Hunger Games Q&A": Unraveling the Dynamics of Clinton's Classroom"

Week after week, a spectacle unfolded in the lobby of the lecture hall, where hour-long lines snaked around as students deployed strategic maneuvers to secure coveted positions for what was ominously dubbed the "Hunger Games Q&A." Enduring this arduous wait became an unavoidable ritual for anyone harboring aspirations of posing a single question during the semester. Despite reassurances from Rachel Szala, associate dean for communications and external relations at SIPA, that Secretary Clinton and Dean Yarhi-Milo hosted open Q&A sessions for a minimum of 20 minutes at the end of each class, the reality on the ground seemed to tell a different story. Szala's claim that student questions were unfiltered and allowed for multiple inquiries contradicted the repeated warnings at almost every lecture that those who had already posed a question were barred from asking another.

Twice during the semester, Clinton was conspicuously absent from class, leaving students bewildered and feeling shortchanged, akin to paying for a Broadway show only to witness the understudy's performance. When Clinton did grace the stage, the atmosphere crackled with anticipation, but the enthusiasm waned when sensitive topics emerged. Discourse on critical issues often found itself neutralized, with students redirected to external panels and events for answers. As the Middle East conflict unfolded, bitterness brewed within the classroom, leading to walkouts, sit-ins, and vocal protests against Clinton's perceived tepid responses.

The challenges of educating a large cohort about real-time global conflicts, recorded meticulously in a classroom where every word echoes, are undoubtedly immense. The university's attempts to mitigate tensions and address concerns through future roundtable discussions deserve acknowledgment. However, the decision to cut class time for digital documentation, while relegating problem resolution to hypothetical future discussions, leaves a bitter aftertaste of disappointment among the students.

"Beyond the Mic: Navigating Clinton's Classroom and Columbia's Institutional Trade-offs"

It would be unfair to lay blame on Clinton for the challenges that surfaced in her classroom. Her wealth of expertise from the situation room undoubtedly enhanced the academic journey for many SIPA students. The true highlights emerged when the stage welcomed distinguished guests throughout the semester, such as Peter Clement, a former deputy director of the CIA, and David Miliband, a former foreign secretary of the U.K. Parliament. One particular day, after a determined struggle for the microphone, I had the opportunity to pose a question to Clinton, Yarhi-Milo, and Nobel Peace Prize winner and journalist Maria Ressa.

In that moment, I shared my diverse background, holding different citizenships and having grown up globally. I recounted experiences of rejection based solely on my nationality while working as a journalist abroad. Expressing understanding for the sentiment behind such rejections, given the dominance of Western narratives in the media, I posed a challenging ethical question. In places marked by extreme censorship, where citizens cannot share their stories, how can journalists ethically tell those stories on their behalf? Clinton nodded in affirmation, and Ressa offered a comforting smile. Her response emphasized the importance of integrity in reporting, asserting that as long as one is honest, each journalist's uniqueness qualifies them to tell stories.

Undoubtedly, the most valuable aspect of Clinton's course was her firsthand narratives. Her accounts of advising President Barack Obama during the operation against Osama bin Laden and her experiences with Russian President Vladimir Putin in his bunker were anecdotes exclusive to her. Yet, the course stirred discontent among students during a time of heightened tensions, prompting reflections on Columbia's institutional priorities and its capacity to address sensitive issues with integrity. There's a discernible trade-off that seems to prioritize the university's image at the expense of its students, turning them into commodified audience members and leaving uncomfortable conversations to retreat into the ivory tower. The question lingers: is this the right path for an institution of learning?

"Beyond the Lecture Hall: Unveiling the Disparities in Clinton's Classroom Dynamics"

A sense of disappointment looms as neither Hillary Clinton nor the dean made an appearance in a single weekly discussion section throughout the semester, nor did they delve into the assignments that students diligently crafted. Instead, these responsibilities were delegated to the teachers leading the discussion groups. The absence of office hours, a standard resource for student support, further added to the disheartenment. This oversight, a disservice to hardworking students, could have been easily rectified, whether through virtual sessions or in-person meetings. Regardless of their titles or backgrounds, professors should be held accountable for maintaining the standards expected of them.

As the semester drew to a close, I sought the opinions of my classmates regarding whether they would recommend the course. The responses were mixed, with one student highlighting the value not in the content learned but in having a class taught by Hillary Clinton on their resume. However, a sentiment lingered that the same knowledge could have been gleaned from reading Clinton's memoir.

The final class, earmarked for answering student questions, took an unexpected turn. Two days before the session, we were informed that only 20 minutes would be dedicated to live questions. The remainder of the time would feature Clinton and the dean reading aloud selected questions that students were instructed to email ahead of time. Among the myriad international foreign policy inquiries submitted, the concluding question from Hillary Clinton to the dean was surprisingly unrelated: "What’s your favorite Taylor Swift song and why?"

While the course holds tremendous potential, there is a glaring need for refinement if offered in person again. The university must strive to ensure that students experience the scholastic rigor they anticipate, steering away from what, for all intents and purposes, felt like academic theater. Notably, a representative for Clinton did not respond to HuffPost's request for comment.

HuffPost compiled additional relevant points from SIPA associate dean Szala’s email, shedding light on the rationale behind filming the course for educational purposes, intending to make it accessible online to a broader audience. While acknowledging the high demand, the email clarified that courses of this size typically follow a frontal lecture format without student Q&A. However, in this case, the professors opted to modify the format to include Q&A in every class. The intricate dynamics of the course reveal a complex interplay between demand, accessibility, and the need for academic depth.

"Navigating the Nuances: Unveiling the Dynamics of Large Lectures at SIPA"

In courses of substantial size, the provision of office hours by section leaders is a standard practice, and in this specific instance, 15 sections were led by Ph.D. experts in the field. It is a widely accepted operational procedure for lectures of this magnitude to have section leaders conduct smaller discussion sessions and grade papers. This approach ensures that the maximum number of students can actively engage with the material presented by the professor, while also guaranteeing hands-on instruction and consistency in grading throughout the course duration.

Both Secretary Clinton and Dean Yarhi-Milo have consistently emphasized the necessity for challenging conversations that question individual assumptions, a principle they actively demonstrated in class. Beyond addressing live student questions in each session, they have engaged in additional programming outside of class, focusing on contemporary issues in global policy, including discussions on the war in Gaza.

It's important to note that the author of the essay stands by her perspective. Cate Twining-Ward, a 2023 SIPA Environmental Fellow at Columbia University, specializes in environmental science and policy at the Columbia Climate School and School of International and Public Affairs. With a background that includes work at the United Nations and serving as a senior correspondent for Planet Forward, an environmental journalism organization, Twining-Ward brings a unique perspective to the discourse.

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