Liepaja University



As with many urban institutions, the buildings at Liepaja University are distributed within a couple of miles in the city. The main building, which looks very noble with its expansive green lawn, mature trees and flower beds decorating the entrance area, was erected in the early 1950s. Initially intended for a city government building, it works fairly well for academic life and is undergoing some renovation, with more to come as resources allow. LiepU has fewer than 3000 students, including its Master’s and Ph.D. students. I preferred a small institution to a larger place like the University of Latvia, as I wanted that “small and intimate” atmosphere. As the weeks have progressed, at least once a week I run into a student I know. I really like that!

Agita, the Foreign Affairs Officer, asked me to join her on August 31 for a meeting with the university administrators, which included the Dekāne of Pedagogy, or Dean of Education. We were escorted into the President’s conference room, where a coffee service was prettily arranged. Each person was introduced, and Agita made a presentation (for my benefit) about Liepaja University. It is very pleasing to observe this young woman, just 30, poised and progressing so effectively in her career, blending it successfully with duties toward her delightful 6-year-old daughter, Elizabeta and her husband, Juris.

I had hoped to present the gifts I had brought for each of the administrative staff, but shortly we were due upstairs. The main assembly hall was suitably impressive for the occasion, bedecked with many flowers, flags of the nation, city and university, and a grand piano by the stage. The morning sun streamed through a very tall wall of windows, rays softened by filmy white curtains. Agita and I took our seats as the Rector (President), Oskars Zīds, strode toward the front of the hall.

It was a time for greetings, warm wishes, and acknowledgements of those faculty and graduate assistants who had earned some certificate, degree, or other formal achievement during the summer. As each person went forward, the Rector shook hands and presented a white rose while a photographer made busy. After several such accolades, Agita whispered that I was to be recognized.
With Agita by my side, I went forward and was welcomed into their midst as a visiting Fulbright Scholar from the United States of America. Agita explained (in Latvian) the purpose of my visit. I was presented with the rose, then invited to speak.
I had no prepared remarks, but began by smiling at the 100 or more faculty and staff facing me. I intoned, “Labrit, labdien, labvakar, ludzu, paldies! Labrit, labdien…” (Good morning, good day, good evening, please, thank you!) and at that the audience chuckled, realizing I had exhausted my Latvian vocabulary. I continued in English, expressing my joy at being selected for the honor of representing my country for such a purpose as helping to educate the young people of Latvia, whose future holds such promise, as well as learning from and with my new colleagues at Liepaja University as we discover how much we have in common. I have to say it was an exciting moment I’ll not soon forget. It is the thought of representing our nation, my homeland, that moves me the most.
This assembly closed with a wine reception. It was 11:00 a.m.!

Another remarkable series of events occurred the next day. September 1 is known throughout Latvia as Knowledge Day. Making my way from apartment to campus on that balmy late summer morning, once on a main thoroughfare I quickly noticed that unlike the day before, children were out in force, but not dressed in playclothes. They were spruced up, with hair secured and shirts (often white) pressed. And – most if not all of the children clutched a posey of flowers for the teacher! Now this was something new.

This tradition so uniformly practiced reveals something important about the Latvian culture: they value learning. They honor it as an opportunity and a conduit to a good life. Perhaps it is especially cherished because for 50 years following World War II, Latvian children were schooled in the Russian language and culture. Their native language and their beloved flag were banned from public life. I was told that in another 20 years of oppression, the Latvian language and customs might have been extinguished.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if American schoolchildren – and their parents – got this excited over an annual event, and called it Knowledge Day!

The University marked the new academic year with a traditional convocation in Trinity Evangelical Lutheran Basilica (c. 1768), featuring both traditional music (on their world-famous 7000-pipe organ) and contemporary music (envision a lissome 18-year-old Baltic blonde playing her guitar and singing like an angel). Each day I enjoy evidence that here in Latvia, music is a fundamental part of daily life and culture.

After our recessional to the main building, two blocks away, we gathered while the administrative team, attired in their academic regalia, together with the Mayor of Liepaja assembled at the top of the stairs. It was a time for speeches, fanfare and pictures.

To their left, the student organization officers were gathered, and – a rock band! After all, Liepaja is known as the home of rock in Latvia. It was a fun time for the first year students (Agita informed me the upperclassmen were sleeping in) to see and be seen. There was lots of milling about, casual yet with a purpose, everyone checking each other out. (How do these young women manage to walk gracefully on 5-inch stiletto heels?)

In addition to the usual “have a good year” and “let’s give it up for LiepU!” the biggest draw clearly was the music. Following the city and university anthems, one of the women students sang, “Georgia on My Mind” and “Summertime” to my great surprise. The band also performed some rock music, which the students seemed to enjoy. At the close of the program, everyone followed the Rector inside for a reception in the assembly hall.

Later that day after school, the city center gathering place known as Rožu laukums (Rose Square) was abuzz with street vendors, games for kids, moms and their dressed-up kids, and – music! The band on a large stage, with a significant amplifier, kept the crowd happy. It was a perfect warm September afternoon, a perfect start to a new school year.