Starting now and for the next year, I’ve signed on to write a monthly op-ed that will explore the arts and humanities — a world I’m familiar with at Weber State University as a professor in the Lindquist College of Arts and Humanities, which covers communication, English, performing arts, visual arts, and world languages and culture.

While I look forward to writing about arts and humanities, I’m also eager to learn what’s of interest to you, the reader. Feel free to email me at hcrimmel@weber.edu with questions and ideas. I hope to engage with readers of all kinds who are interested in the arts and humanities.

To provide context for the year ahead, let me share that I’m in my 23rd year as a professor at Weber State, where I served for the last nine years as chair of the English department. We’re a large department, with around 100 full- and part-time faculty. We serve thousands of high school students each year via concurrent enrollment courses, plus 4,500 undergraduates in our developmental English and composition programs. We offer courses to 450 majors and minors in creative writing, English teacher education, professional and technical writing, and literature. We’re also home to a thriving Master of Arts in English program with about 50 students. If you’re attending or have graduated from WSU, chances are you’ve taken a course in the English department!

I enjoy teaching American literature; environmental humanities, a field exploring the intersection of people and nature; and critical theory, a field that helps students understand how to interpret literature and culture. It’s important to note that in the arts and humanities, “critical” doesn’t mean criticizing, but rather, interpretation — getting meaning out of texts, our surroundings and the world at large.

What would life be like without interpretation? That’s a good arts and humanities question to ponder! It’s natural to wonder why a friend said what they did, or why a co-worker behaved in a certain way. Imagine if we never asked ourselves such questions. Life would be less interesting, and likely even more confusing than it already is. Humans have the urge to ask why we felt a certain way about a story, a musical performance or a painting. Critical theory helps us understand why we think the way we do: Why is one person’s inspirational character in a film another person’s villain, for instance? Critical theory helps us understand how things like life experiences, socio-economic background, gender or religion shape our perceptions of the world.

In that regard, the arts and humanities is ever-changing, engaging with new ideas and often discarding those whose time has come and gone. That can trouble many tied to tradition. But I can’t think of many disciplines where people fiercely adhere to tradition at the expense of new ideas. Civil War-era medical instruments are fascinating but I can’t imagine surrendering to a scalpel or bone saw without modern anesthesia, for instance, just to salute tradition.

For English faculty to insist exclusively on the study of great books because that’s how it was done in 1960 would be like insisting students in WSU’s Department of Automotive Technology program learn only how to fix the great V-8-powered gas guzzlers because that’s what people drove in that era. And so when you read about university departments abandoning the “classics” for popular culture, it’s important to note that the “classics” were not always recognized as such in their day. Henry David Thoreau’s classic “Walden; or, Life in the Woods” was a flop when published. “Moby Dick,” Melville’s masterpiece, was disparaged during his lifetime. We never know what will become a classic: Will students be taking classes on “The Simpsons” in 2050? Will they be interested in a course on Taylor Swift in 10 years? They certainly are now.

Debating whether one generation’s art is better than another is the sort of question we engage within the arts and humanities. And, if you have ever suffered through listening to your children’s music — or that of your parents (unless they were enlightened Grateful Dead fans!) —  you know how one generation’s great music can be another’s head-scratching mystery. But our job as educators is to help students make sense of the world. Time and technology have changed what students want to explore. If dozens of eager students are willing to listen to a Taylor Swift song or a class on “The Simpsons” and engage enthusiastically in class discussions where they can make sense of the history of ideas, what it means to be human, or cultural trends, then we are delivering on WSU’s core themes of learning, access and community.

That’s not to say English doesn’t offer courses on “classic” writers such as Ernest Hemingway or a course on “Moby Dick” (we do both!). Our faculty respect tradition and embrace innovation. The next time someone bemoans that an English department has abandoned its traditions, remember that these “traditions” were, to return to an automotive analogy, once like the Model T — new, untested, often of questionable merit. Let’s give faculty and students a chance to explore the new. The ideas found in short stories, novels, poems — and yes, in song, TV and film — will be tested. Maybe celebrated. Some will survive for the next generation. Others won’t. The important thing is that we give them a chance.

Hal Crimmel is a Brady Presidential Distinguished Professor of English who served for nine years as chair of the English department at Weber State University. He currently serves as the academic director of concurrent enrollment.