ONE DAY LAST semester, I made my way over to the Hue House with my interview staples: a recorder, a pad of paper, and a pen. I opened the door and clambered up the stairs, waiting outside the office of Elizabeth Majerus, head of the Uni English department.

A few minutes later, Majerus met me at her office door with a pot full of tea in one hand, a mug in the other, and her ever-present smile.

After unlocking the door, she sat down at her desk and poured herself a cup. For the rest of our conversation, she hugged the mug of herbal tea (one of her favorite things) in between her hands, sipping it every once and awhile between thoughts.

During my sophomore year, I took Creative Writing taught by Majerus. We listened to music and stand-up comedy sketches, watched movies, sang songs as then-junior Kareem Sayegh played his guitar, talked, brought in food to share, and enjoyed the company of substitute teacher Laura Koritz (whom we renamed Cynthia) while Majerus took time off to care for her new baby, Ruby. Oh, and we also wrote.

Probably one of the most memorable traditions of that quirky class was Majerus’ many anecdotes and stories. Not only did she have the most humorous tales to tell (and I’m still convinced that she doesn’t realize how funny she can be), but Majerus was and is a walking encyclopedia of references to great films, music, and pieces of literature. In fact, by the end of the year, one of the most repeated questions in the class was, “Is that a reference?”

After that experience, it became obvious that I could not pass my time on the Gargoyle staff without interviewing one of the most fascinating individuals at Uni.

Childhood and high school years

Majerus at her high school graduation in 1986 with her choir teacher, Dr. Linda Jacobs. Photo courtesy of Elizabeth Majerus (click to enlarge)

We began with Normal, Ill., her birthplace. Majerus’ parents were students at Illinois State University. After her father finished graduate school there, her family moved to Chicago, where she lived until she was 11.

“When I was in sixth grade, my dad and I moved out to Sheboygan, Wisconsin.”

Majerus pauses as I repeat the name, obviously amused, and she laughs. “Yeah … Sheboygan.”

Coming from Chicago, Majerus considered Sheboygan to be a small town, even though it had a population of 60,000.

“I got to see two very different kinds of life and, in a way, I was grateful for it,” she reflects. “When we moved from Chicago to Sheboygan I was annoyed and I kind of had this big-city kid attitude about it all, but I got over that pretty quickly.”

She describes her high school years in the town, located along Lake Michigan about 50 miles north of Milwaukee, as happy.

“I had a really close-knit group of friends. They were all kind of ...” — she looks for the word — “weird. We just did stupid, silly things. There wasn’t a lot to do in town for teenagers, and so we kind of had to make our own fun.”

She tells me that she was involved with theater, debate, and the forensics team at South High, which she graduated from in 1986. She then stops, with her typical sincerity, and asks me: “Do you know what forensics is? We didn’t dissect dead bodies, no. It’s another word for the speech team.”

An early interest in music

Majerus' band Beezus, which formed after she moved to Champaign-Urbana. Photo courtesy of Elizabeth Majerus (click to enlarge)

Majerus had been, from birth, a true music aficionado.

“Music has always been important to me,” she states. “My parents both listened to a lot of music, and I grew up with music.”

When she was a kid she listened to, thanks to her parents, The Beatles, The Eagles, Joni Mitchell, and, thanks to her grandfather, Johnny Cash, Patsy Cline, and Hank Williams.

“My dad was always curious about music. When I was in fifth grade, he bought me The Go-Go’s record, and when I was in junior high he started experimenting with ACDC. My mom started listening to the Talking Heads when I was in high school. She and I sort of shared music, like I introduced her to The Police, she introduced me to the Talking Heads. … I introduced her to U2, she introduced me to XTC.”

In high school her musical tastes developed and expanded. She listened to R.E.M., The Pogues, The Violent Femmes, and some punk.

“You have to remember that this was the time when to be exposed to music you either had to hear it on the radio, see it on MTV, or know someone who had it. There was no Internet at all,” she explains. “It was really exciting to find a new band, especially in Sheboygan, where there was like one record store and there wasn’t a college radio station.”

College experience

Majerus’ dream was to attend Oberlin College in Ohio. Unfortunately, she would have had to go into debt so, instead of Oberlin, she chose to attend the University of Wisconsin at Madison for “practically free.”

“I just knew, I always knew,” Majerus emphasizes, “that I wasn’t going to do something that would make a lot of money. I mean, I wasn’t going to medical school, or law school, or business school. … So it seemed to make sense not to rack up a lot of debt.”

Initially she was disappointed to attend school in Madison, but she says the decision was ultimately a good one. She was able to create a small, liberal arts college experience even at such a big school by seeking out her professors after class hours and making a point to take smaller classes.

“Madison is a wonderful city. The university was great, and I really enjoyed living in such a beautiful place. There are all these lakes in Madison and a lot of natural beauty, so I enjoyed that. Also, it’s the state capital and it’s got a lot of cultural diversity, great restaurants, and great places to see bands. I had a really fun time there, and it was a good experience for me.”

She adds: “You think certain things are going to happen in your life and they don’t always happen, but that doesn’t mean your life can’t be the way you hope it will be in some more abstract ways.”

After college

To make sure she didn’t burn out from too much school, Majerus took some time off between college and graduate studies.

During her hiatus, she had two paths she was interested in pursuing, but she knew she would have to choose one over the other: working in a bike shop or being an English teacher. I laughed and wondered out loud where the former could have come from.

“That was my other goal,” she smiles — “that I was going to learn how to repair bikes.”

In Madison, she explains further, she became very involved in political activism, particularly with the Campus Greens. She participated in bike rallies and worked to educate the public on sustainable transportation. She took some free classes at a local bike shop, the Yellow Jersey, and learned the basics on how to repair a bike.

In the end, teaching was the path she chose.

“Which is good, I think,” she responds seriously, “because as little as teachers make, I think people who repair bikes make less. Particularly if they’re just starting out. Oh, and if they don’t own the shop or whatever.”

A teaching position brought her out to Brentwood in Los Angeles, where she taught at Marymount Junior School, a small Catholic school that many of the kids of second-tier producers, directors, and lawyers attended. (In 1994, the Brentwood School bought the Marymount Junior School campus; Marymount High School still exists on a separate campus.)

“During the time I was there John Candy's kids went to the school,” Majerus says. “I don’t know if he rings a bell to you. You might not know who he is because he hasn’t been in any movies for the past 15 years because, well, he died. Quite a while ago. He was a very famous Canadian comedic actor.

"O.J. Simpson's kids also went to my school. I actually saw Nicole Brown Simpson pick up her kids every day. Bruce Jenner's kid went to my school, and Kourtney and Kim Kardashian went to my school.”

For three years Majerus taught at Marymount Junior, a school she describes as “alienating”'; nevertheless she was able to create a very strong bond with the students.

“My students tended to be materially very well off but emotionally and socially impoverished,” she explains. “Their parents were often very busy, and many of my students were being raised by their nannies. There were also lots of messy divorces where the children were being used as pawns.”

She pauses and shakes her head.

“It was a really strange community. The students were very needy. In some ways it was a lucky coincidence because I was in my early 20s and didn’t have a whole lot going on besides my job. I was really into my job and really passionate about my job, as I still am, but now I have a lot of other stuff going on in my life. At the time, I could throw all of my emotional energy into the job.”

While Majerus was teaching at Marymount and living in Los Angeles, the Rodney King race riots of 1992 broke out. The school was shut down for three days in late April-early May while the riots raged on throughout South Central L.A.

“It was nightmarish. The sky was full of smoke and the city shut down almost completely for three days,” Majerus describes. “Everyone was glued to their TV sets. … Afterward many parts of South Central looked like a war zone. It was one of many examples in American history where a community shut out and systematically discriminated against for generations boiled over with rage as the result of an event that was just too much to bear. That a black man in 1992 could be beaten within an inch of his life on camera by police officers who then were acquitted, it was just too much for poor black communities in South Central.”

Although Majerus lived in West L.A., far away from the riots, she still traveled down to South Central to help with the clean-up process. This work inspired Majerus to continue to volunteer in the inner city, and she returned every weekend to the Los Angeles Catholic Worker House, an experience that she describes as “enriching.”

Graduate school years

Majerus performing in Beezus. Photo courtesy of Elizabeth Majerus (click to enlarge)

Majerus and her husband, Matt Mitchell, in the band Villacoula. Photo courtesy of Elizabeth Majerus (click to enlarge)

Relieved to leave Los Angeles, Majerus came to the University of Illinois in 1993 for graduate school to work on her Ph.D. in the English department.

She wrote her dissertation on female poets in the Modernist period, focusing on Edna St. Vincent Millay, Mina Loy, and Dorothy Parker. Majerus describes all three as “multiply-affiliated” writers — writers who “have connections to various other cultural and artistic worlds, in addition to their relationship to Modernism.”

When I ask her about her initial reactions to Champaign-Urbana, she says she “liked it because it wasn’t L.A.”

“There were a lot of things I liked about L.A., but there were also a lot of things I hated about living there. I enjoyed being back in the Midwest and not having to drive everywhere,” she remembers.

“I was happy to be with people who seemed more genuine. One thing about L.A. that really bothered me was that people are very nice there but you don’t know if they are being genuinely nice or just being nice because that’s how everyone is all the time.

"It was very confusing to me, being from the Midwest. People would say things like, 'Oh I love you so much! Let’s get together!' and then you would never hear from them, and it’d be like, 'OH! That meant, It was nice to meet you. Have a good day!'”

When she first moved to Champaign-Urbana, she admits, she thought the area was a bit boring. Quickly she discovered the Krannert Center for the Performing Arts, the local music scene, and places to see movies, and her dissatisfaction with C-U dissolved.

“I was a pretty busy graduate student, so I quickly realized there was more in this town than I even had time for,” she says.

It was during her second year of graduate school that she was introduced to her future husband, who now also teaches in the Uni English department, Matt Mitchell. They met through mutual friends, became friends themselves, played music together, and, Majerus says, “It evolved from there.”

For four years during her graduate school career, Majerus was in a local band called Beezus.

“We put out a few CDs and did some touring, and that was fun. Our drummer then moved to New York, so we thought about whether to continue the band with a new drummer or to call it a day. We decided we had a good run and we didn’t really want to look for a new drummer. The band was us, you know? So we retired from it.”

After that, Majerus played for some years in a band called Villacoula, with Mitchell on bass and Victor Cortez on drums. Then, after she earned her Ph.D., she played in an old-time country band called Sarsaparilla with some friends.

Life at Uni

Majerus with her husband, Matt Mitchell. Photo courtesy of Elizabeth Majerus (click to enlarge)

Majerus started working at Uni in the fall of 1999, and immediately she fell in love the environment of the school, an admiration she still has today.

“Ever since my first year of teaching, I’ve been struck by how much I learn from my students, but I feel like I learn from students at Uni more than anywhere else I’ve taught,” she explains.

“I regularly see some new aspect of a novel I’ve read a half a dozen times, thanks to a keen observation made by a student reading it for the first time. I often find my eyes opening to a reading of a poem that I’d never considered, a poem I’ve turned over many times on my own and with students.

"It’s rare that a student’s original reading of a familiar poem becomes my primary reading, but it may snuggle in there beside my favored interpretation, lending greater resonance to my other ways of seeing the poem. I love that. As someone who’s passionately devoted to literature, that’s intensely rewarding.”

Uni’s small community feels much cozier to her than her own high school, which had 1,600 students and a bounty of rigid rules, ever did. Uni students, Majerus finds, are insightful, intellectually curious, and enthusiastic in the classroom as well as accepting and friendly in social situations.

"Uni students respect and support each other more than students at other schools, in my experience, and there's less snarky behavior and in-and-out group politics than at other schools I've attended or taught at. That's not to say no one's ever excluded, slighted, or disrespected. Uni students are still adolescents, still human. But there's more camaraderie and acceptance across grade levels and social groups here.”

In the fall of 2004, Mitchell accepted a part-time position teaching sophomore-level English at Uni after another teacher had left to move to Arizona. Having Mitchell join her at the workplace wasn’t anything new for Majerus, though.

“Teaching English has always been part of our relationship,” she notes, “and it’s sort of how we met, so it doesn’t seem that strange to be working together now. We always talked about our teaching before in graduate school when we were teaching in the same department. Teaching, in a sense, is such a solitary job. It’s not like he and I are sitting over a desk or poring over reports together.

“But anyway, we get along really well, so it makes it easy to work together,” she observes, chuckling a bit at her last statement.

Mitchell can't seem to agree more, pointing out that the couple met as teaching assistants in the English department at the U of I.

“I would describe Majerus as more of a 'mentor' than a 'boss' to me, perhaps,” he says. “I've always consulted with her (and groused, and waxed enthusiastic) about my classes, and her advice and insight have shaped my teaching in more ways than I can count, and this was true long before I came to Uni. But 'boss' doesn't seem the right word for her present role. It's not as if I'll be creeping to my desk at Hue House, with Majerus bellowing from her office, 'Mitchell! Get your lazy butt
in here! I said I wanted that memo on my desk this morning OR ELSE!'”

A passion for literature

Majerus picked up the pen around the time she moved to Sheboygan.

“I started writing stories in earnest in sixth grade when my teacher, Mr. Kuck, told me he thought I had talent. I wrote dozens of stories for him — which he saved, incidentally, and sent me during my first year of teaching,” she recalls.

Since that young age, Majerus hasn’t stopped writing, but instead kept it up as one of her main passions.

Majerus started out as a fiction prose writer. In her senior year of college, she attended a workshop led by Ron Wallace at the University of Wisconsin, who introduced her to contemporary formal poetry and inspired her to see poetry as her main form of expression.

She kept to poetry and fiction until she started playing in bands, and then she set them aside to focus on songwriting for a few years.

But by attending workshops with Lucie Brock-Broido, Mark Wunderlich, and Rebecca Seiferle, all established contemporary poets, Majerus’ involvement in the literary world has become as active as ever.

On top of that, her work certainly doesn’t go unrecognized. She has won writing awards at the University of Wisconsin, was a finalist for the 2002 Emily Dickinson Award, and has been published in Canvas (a literary magazine at the University of Wisconsin), Genesis, Feminist Voices, The Emily Dickinson Award Anthology, Epicenter: A Magazine of Literary Arts, and, most recently, in Great River Review.

As far as literary influences go, the list is long. After some serious contemplation, Majerus says that Jane Austen, David Foster Wallace, Virginia Woolf, J.D. Salinger, Zora Neale Hurston, Marilynne Robinson, James Thurber, Sarah Vowell, David Sedaris, and David Rakoff are some of her favorite writers.

The list of favorite poets is no shorter: Millay, Loy, Parker, Gerard Manley Hopkins, Sylvia Plath, Ron Padgett, Ted Berrigan, John Berryman, Patricia Smith, and Louise Erdrich.

But don't expect her to try to imitate the writers she admires most.

“I don't really have any favorite writers whose work inspires me per se or whom I aspire to be like,” she concludes. “Part of what makes any great writer great is that they have found their own voice and that they don't sound like anyone else. To the extent that I aspire to some sort of 'greatness' as a poet, I think I'll succeed only insofar as I can find my own voice.

"That said, I do sometimes find that a single poem — or a line in a novel or a song — can spark something that ends up becoming my own poem. But that's a question of momentary inspiration, and the finished product is never anything like the text that provided the spark.”

Parenthood

Budding musician Otis follows in his mom's footsteps. Photo by Sindha Agha (click to enlarge)

Daughter Ruby wants attention, too. Photo by Sindha Agha (click to enlarge)

In 2003, Majerus had her first child, Otis. Majerus describes Otis as “very silly, very affectionate, super bright both verbally and with numbers and natural science stuff, but also quite spacey and airheaded at times.”

Like his parents, Otis has the music gene. He’s currently learning how to play drums and guitar, has already attended Chicago’s massive music festival Lollapalooza, and has a refined musical taste.

“He loves music and gets very into a particular band for months at a time. He’s had obsessive relationships so far with The White Stripes, Wilco, Tegan and Sara, The Clash, and The Shins,” Majerus says.

In 2007, she and Mitchell had their second child, Ruby. Majerus describes her daughter as “extremely expressive, affectionate, and a tremendously demanding person for someone of her small stature. She sort of runs the house. She’s much more strong willed than Otis was at her age. When she wants something, she insists, and when she doesn’t get it, she goes into drama mode.

“But luckily she can often be distracted by stuff she enjoys doing. She’s also really brave and interested in trying stuff, less cautious than Otis was as a baby.”

Majerus says that finding time for herself and her hobbies of writing, reading, and all things musical can be a bit hard. Luckily enough she is able to share her passions with her children, especially when it comes to music.

“Just because I have kids doesn’t mean I can’t listen to the music I love — if I listen to it with them, they end up loving it too … so far. This will change when they’re teenagers and they’re like, 'Mom, I don’t care if The Shins have a new record. They are so old!'

“And I’ve always played music for my kids and, increasingly, as Otis has started playing drums, with my kids. In fact, Ruby insists on playing drums, too, now. Sometimes she’ll badger me to go down to the basement and play music (which she does in her own language by saying 'Mama yung!'). I’ll go down with Ruby and play guitar while she bangs on the drums, which she can barely reach standing up, but she manages.”

The parenting experience overall has been what Majerus describes as de-centering and freeing.

“Having kids has changed my life profoundly. To be a good parent, not even an amazing, exceptional parent, but just a baseline good parent, you have to give up your idea that you are the center of the universe, or even the center of your own personal universe. It is a huge sacrifice. It’s also a huge joy.”

Whether her kids will be Uni students or not is a question Majerus is leaving unanswered. While Ruby is too young to tell, Majerus sees the qualities of giftedness in Otis that Uni kids possess. The choice is ultimately up to each child, she explains.

“Uni is an amazing school for a lot of kids, but not every kid is a Uni kid.”

The future

While she doesn’t know quite where she will be in 20 years, Majerus says that she can easily see herself remaining at Uni for the next decade.

“The idea of being a Uni 'lifer' has an appeal,” says the 2009 winner of the Ella Leppert Award for outstanding teaching. “I have many colleagues, both retired and current teachers, who have spent decades at Uni and become part of the history of this exceptional place, and I admire their work and commitment.”

She finds teaching at Uni to be particularly rewarding because the other faculty members are just as enthusiastic and passionate about their jobs.

“I know from teaching at other institutions, from the junior high level to the college level, that that’s not true at most schools. It’s demoralizing to work with other teachers who are disgruntled, who regard you as a freak for being passionate about the work of teaching young people, and I’ve been in that position.”

On the other, Majerus says, “It can be very addictive, when you love teaching, to work with others who love teaching, too.”

More photos: Majerus and her children

Majerus plays with her son, Otis, as Ruby looks on. Gargoyle photo by Sindha Agha (click any photo to enlarge and to create your own slideshow)

Otis Mitchell has been playing drums since the age of 3. Gargoyle photo by Sindha Agha (click to enlarge)

Otis plays for his mom and sister Ruby. Gargoyle photo by Sindha Agha (click to enlarge)

Like his parents, Otis has a passion for music. Gargoyle photo by Sindha Agha (click to enlarge)