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When I received President Demko's invitation to prepare a paper for delivery during one of the President's plenary sessions at the 1987 Portland AAG meeting, I was honored and pleasantly surprised--but also uncertain of the intent of the occasion. As I am sure my predecessors have done, I consulted the literature for precedent. In 1986, Jean Gottmann discussed "Technology and Life in the City." ¹ In 1985, three presidential sessions focused on urban geography: D. A. Lanegran presented a paper on sense of place, R. J. Johnston spoke about understanding and solving urban problems, and J. S. Adams described housing markets in the twilight of materialism. ^{2 3 4} My first reaction, upon rereading these papers, was to seize the opportunity and to regale you with an excursion through the geography of viniculture, here on the threshold of the burgundy of North America.

On further reflection, it seemed that the Presidential Sessions could serve a broader purpose. These are sobering times for professional geographers, and perhaps occasions such as this should also be used to share views and concerns, and to propose courses of action. This, I realize, entails risks. It requires generalizations that are impressionistic and not scientifically provable. It demands self-criticism that will, I predict with a confidence level of 1.0, not be universally popular. And yet we need a profession-wide debate concerning the position and condition of our discipline: its central purpose and direction.

I wonder how many colleagues in this room were first attracted to our discipline by a component of it that has since ceased to be a viable field. How many have graduated from a department that no longer exists. How many have been forced to abandon areas of teaching and research as a result of shifting definitions of our mission. Our educational crisis (let there be no denying that there is one) also is an identity crisis. It is an internal problem with catastrophic external consequences.

In recent years we have been bombarded, ad nauseum, with evidence, based on objective tests, of the geographic illiteracy of high school and college students in the United States (often the tests themselves evinced certain shortcomings at other levels). We are not alone in this. More scientifically reliable tests in mathematics, physics, and biology indicate that knowledge in these fields, too, is far below acceptable levels. A national movement to raise educational standards and requirements is gaining momentum. In turn, this intensifies competition for allocations of money and time. Our discipline will come under ever stronger scrutiny; what are its essential contributions? Why is it as important as other fields?

A large part of the answer to such questions lies in our own perception of what we are about. There was a time when we could afford to say that "geography is what geographers do." Those days are over. As competition for money and time intensifies, the questions become harder. Whether we like it or not, we must be able to define our substantive, theoretical, methodological, and technical ground. Our current, critical situation demands that we be able to prove that geography- - in whatever name or form it exists -- is indispensable in school and university, vital in government, and valuable in the business world.

In this effort we are in a uniquely difficult position, internally as well as externally. Those geographic-illiteracy tests may reveal how little students know today; they reveal nothing about the scale or depth of the epidemic of ignorance. Various observers have conjectured about the impact of our nation's geographic blindness on foreign-policy decision making; some of those students who went from kindergarten through college without any geography did become policymakers and advisers. And others became deans of colleges of the social sciences or the arts and sciences at major universities. Now these intellectual leaders must make decisions affecting a discipline of which they are (at least in terms of their own formal education) ignorant. The popular press may belabor those dismal student test results, but a far more serious manifestation of the same phenomenon is having disastrous impact in the very place where enlightened leadership should prevail. I need not chronicle the evidence. It is a shameful blacklist of administrative failure and bottom-line mismanagement.

What has been done to great, historic departments of geography in recent years is so infuriating that it is tempting to direct a powerful retaliatory response to the source. But my participation in an effort to rescue an endangered department yields some saddening insights. When asked why the geography department had been singled out for elimination, the administrative officer in charge described the discipline as "insignificant, unimportant, and duplicative." The physical geography, he said, was done in geology as well; the cartography in engineering; the human geography in sociology; the quantitative methods in mathematics and statistics. What was especially telling was that this administrator is himself a former professor of philosophy. That particular meeting was not the time to remind him that logic might be better taught in mathematics, ethics in psychology, and history in history. Geography's cross-disciplinary wingspread is not unique. What was especially noteworthy, and duly noted, was the intensity of this provost's hostility toward geography. What, I wondered, could have generated such strongly negative feelings toward a field so vaguely defined in his own mind?

This question may contain the element of an answer, and it leads to the internal, intra-disciplinary aspect of the problem. That provost is not the only senior administrator to have difficulty defining the discipline of geography and its contributions to the academy; and even some formal education in geography might not have clarified those basic issues. And so our counterattack should begin at home. While the current interassociation campaign to revive geography at the precollegiate level proceeds, we must form a profession-wide alliance to educate our adversaries even as we combat them.

This education will have to involve some self-reeducation. It has become something of a status symbol among graduate students never to have read R. Hartshorne's Nature of Geography; there is as yet nothing to replace P. E. James and C. F. Jones' American Geography: Inventory and Prospect. ^{5 6} The impression is so strong that only a small fraction of recent and current Ph.D's. of geography are much concerned over the roots and lineages of their discipline, or where their work fits in its greater design (if any). Yet these are the geographers who will have to answer the crucial questions, confront ill-informed management, and sustain the discipline in the future.

I hesitate to refer to as vintaged an article as that published by N. Fenneman in 1919, "The Circumference of Geography." ⁷ Fenneman's model of the discipline had all Research on the circumference contributing to the strength and substance of geography's core and focus, the region. Fenneman, a physical geographer, saw the discipline's future in the integration of physical and human fields; it never occurred to him to declare non-physical fields to be non-geographic. It must have been a fine time to be a geographer.

Fenneman could have republished his paper today under the title "The Circumference Is Geography." One of my colleagues likens the new model to a doughnut, and suggests that in this form, the field may age just about as well. ⁸ Worse, the circumference today presents a confusion of pursuits. A publication that reflects this is the AAG's Guide to Departments of Geography in the United States and Canada, 1986-1987. ⁹ In this volume, geographers identify their specializations. Scrutiny of those proclaimed specializations produces some remarkable items (Table 1).

Such diversity illustrates both the strengths and weaknesses of professional geography in the United States today. The strength lies in the versatility and adaptability of the discipline's practitioners, who make contributions in a truly astonishing range of fields. But the weakness is one of coherence, of commonality -- and ultimately, of identity and image. What fundamental substance and theory are shared by scholars working in fields as disparate as those just identified? When our aforementioned provost decides to reconstruct the geography department his administration has allowed to fall into despair, what will be the foundations on which he will rebuild and approve appointments?

The problem -- and it is a problem -- is exacerbated by coincidence. As in any academic discipline, much productive research action in geography does take place on its frontiers. As the threat to the survival of departments has risen, deans have turned to prominent innovators for advice, sometimes with disastrous results. My interviews indicate that administrators are left bewildered by the diversity and discordance of opinions with which they are confronted. In one conspicuous instance three leading geographers were asked to advise a dean concerning the future options for a department in need of revival. The first geographer reported that the future of the discipline lies in remote sensing and the mechanical processing and interpretation of mass data. The second recommended a focus on fluvial geomorphology. The third suggested that the department become a regional planning center. We may be able to see the intradisciplinary connection, but the dean did not. When confronted by budgetary needs amounting to millions of dollars, that administration made its decision quickly. A more balanced representation of our discipline, in the context of what was possible at that institution, might have produced a different outcome.

But what is a balanced view? Where is our core, our common ground today? The literature reveals an interesting shift from attempts to define geography as a discipline toward efforts to delineate its "traditions" as W. Pattison called them in his 1964 article, its "guidelines," as defined in the NCGE/AAG publication entitled Guidelines for Geographic Education, and "themes" as on the NGS/GENIP map of 1986. ^{10 11 12} Location, space and place, society and environment, and regional issues continue to persist among topics regarded as lying at the heart of geographic research and teaching. But to what extent are these functional foci? The contents of this AAG meeting's program are cause for serious reflection.

Just one generation ago, geography's core of consensus was embodied in the curricula of undergraduate and graduate departments. Those curricula exhibited considerable stability and similarity across the country. The overwhelming majority of students at the undergraduate level were required to take courses in physical and human geography, and often in conservation; programs were so structured that a geography major would be exposed, in consecutive years, to systematic, regional, methodological, and technical courses. Entering graduate students, therefore, possessed a common base, no matter how divergent their prospective specializations. An incoming graduate student transferring from another discipline was required to remedy undergraduate deficiencies.

In my personal experience, the geography department was a crucible of intellectual activity and ferment. Graduate education involved challenges in the classroom, in the field, in the library, and in the laboratory. In the university at large, geography's graduate program was perceived as rigorous and demanding; the undergraduate program as central to the institution's educational mission. The introductory geography sequence attracted well over 1000 students annually; almost all those students registered for it on the recommendation of advisors in other disciplines. This was no onerous freshman course foisted off on aids or junior faculty. It was directed and taught by one of the department's senior professors, who ensured that thousands of students went may with a balanced, positive view of the discipline. His success may be measured by the hundreds who returned to the department as majors, and by the more than twenty teaching assistantships the course generated, year after year.

In those days, there still was a general consensus regarding geography's core, its common cause--and there were scholars willing to argue a definition. Chairs and deans who appointed recent graduates from major departments did not need to be concerned over the ability of these new faculty to teach the full range of fundamental courses. To a slight (but sufficient) degree, geography was standardized. There was a mainstream. But the wave of a so-called "new" geography was rising, soon to crest in the quantitative revolution and the rejection of much that had gone before. In the words of a distinguished colleague:

"[geography's] greatest losses may have come not from the [se] new ideas, but from extremism in their promotion or ... in attempts to disavow the old and to establish a new and different discipline ... and [from] the temptation to adapt the discipline to new techniques rather than to use the techniques to advance the discipline." ¹³

The "new geography" took its toll at the heart of the discipline even as it expanded the discipline's frontiers. An obsessive search for universal laws rendered regional geography obsolete almost by definition. The quantitative revolution, in geography at least, was anchored at the social end of the continuum, and for many, physical geography became dispensable. This had the effect of cutting short a revival of interest in another of geography's core concerns, the relationships between human society and natural environment. The revolution also created a class structure geographers had not previously known. Fields where nothing more than social awareness and responsibility were nurtured, such as conservation, were relegated to the disciplinary ghetto. Geography as a Social Science! proclaimed a milestone volume of the time. ¹⁴ "If you cannot measure it, it isn't geography" was the banner of the new elite. Just as presidential candidate Barry Goldwater was saying that extremism in the defense of liberty was no vice, extremism in the pursuit of purified geography became a virtue.

And yet the new directions opened by modern analytical methodologies gave the discipline renewed vitality and excitement. Models of the diffusion of innovations, measurements of spatial interactions, quantitatively confirmed correlations, and numerically supported probabilities marked a frontier that seemed to have no limits. Geographic notions of centrality, proximity, pattern, distribution, and movement acquired new meanings. Scientific methodologies and mathematical frameworks appeared to bring vigor and rigor to the discipline. The emergence of this form of geographic science paralleled similar events in other disciplines, including anthropology and, to a lesser extent, history. But in none of these other disciplines, I submit, did a comparable rejection take place of what had gone before. Some geographers, leaders in the revolution, were able to maintain a wider perspective of the field. ¹⁵ But others viewed the new geography as essentially disconnected from the old.

The large, broad-based introductory course that had served so long and so well at so many institutions was an early victim of this posture. The course to which I made specific reference earlier was regarded as being no longer an appropriate reflection of the discipline; it was not consistent with the positivist image. The new behavioral course that was substituted drew a few dozen students rather than thousands; teaching assistantships were transferred to other units, and the department was critically weakened. Students who had had the opportunity to weigh the interactions between environment and society (while learning something substantive about both) lost that option. And deans and other administrators were bewildered by the widening gap between their image of geography and that of the "new" geographers. Thus was born, no doubt, that frustration and hostility we now confront in those crucial academic situations.

Yet there is hope, opportunity, and reason for long-term optimism. Geography's mainstreams have survived earlier denigrations, and there may be a sufficient residual base remaining to recapture and rebuild. Thus, Mr. Chairman, I seize this opportunity to propose that we, through our association and its leadership, take action on a series of fronts.

The first of these should aim at the development of a consensus mission statement. It is a task many may regard as onerous, even fruitless. But questions about geography (in its simplest form, "what is geography?") will arise in too many arenas to ignore it -- or to permit such a wide variety of answers that it will kill us. It is not enough to assume that the quality and significance of our research alone will suffice to ensure our fractured discipline's survival. Our critical mass is too small, our presence is now too ephemeral, our products and results too scattered. I am not suggesting that we attempt to define what is and is not geography; in one way or another the great majority of presentations made during this meeting contribute to geography at large. What the statement must explain is how apparently disparate topics and themes are connected under the geographic banner, and what salient links connect the so-evident circumference to the discipline's core.

While serving as editor of the national geographic society's scholarly journal, National Geographic Research, I have come to realize just how urgently such a declaration is needed. President G. M. Grosvenor has begun a personal campaign to reinvigorate geography at all levels of education, and he has put the resources of the society behind it. He has spoken before high school and college students, state governors and school administrators, and has met with university presidents and deans. He hears questions about geography that would sound very familiar to us. But the major institutional publication that addresses them head-on remains the NCGE/AAG Guidelines booklet. ¹⁶ Much of what that publication contains is useful, but it is aimed at the school level. Again: we need a profession's mission statement, a majority position on our central concerns.

I cannot allow this opportunity to pass without appealing for unity and mutual support in this difficult time for geography in education. For nearly a century, the National Geographic Society has been supporting geography in research and education, and the profession has benefited in many ways. During a memorable address at the AAG meeting in Washington, D.C. in April, 1984, Mr. Grosvenor proposed an alliance between the discipline and the Society, in which the society's delivery system would be mobilized to disseminate the discipline's significant results. ¹⁷ The society has followed through on that commitment far beyond what we might have anticipated (including the launching of a major scholarly journal in which, it was anticipated, geography would take a leading position). That hope has yet to be fulfilled. Only about 3 percent of all manuscripts submitted to National Geographic Research over the past three years have come from geographers.

If we are willing to redefine our mainstreams, then let us also assist in disseminating the results. One of the issues faced by those who are working for the revival of geography involves time--time available in curricula and daily schedules to accommodate expanded instruction in geography. It is an argument we confront constantly: that in order to teach more (or any) geography, it will be necessary to reduce or drop something else. One answer to that position lies in the calendar. Our school year and school day are shorter than they should be. In Japan, where geography is a vital subject at all educational levels, the school year is 63 days longer that it is in the United States (243 days against 180), and the school day averages 85 minutes longer. Geography is important enough to expand both the school year and the school day in the United States. Here is a business-meeting resolution that ought to have priority.

A second area that demands our collective attention involves the education and training of graduate students. The number of first-rank, leading graduate departments in geography has now dwindled to a dozen, fewer by some definitions. These programs produce (supposedly) the best prepared Ph.D.'s. in the discipline, but there remain considerable disparities among them in terms of substantive, theoretical, methodological, and technical contents. Now is the time to cooperate toward a limited standardization, so that the consistencies of the recent past may be reestablished.

I also urge a return to the field camp as part of the Master's level geography curriculum, where that component has disappeared. New opportunities, new methods, and new objectives obviously will render these field camps rather different from the old. But some old assets will be recovered: in interpersonal relationships between and among students and faculty, in widening viewpoints, and in real-world experience.

In addition, the profession should undertake a vigorous campaign to restore international dimensions to graduate programs. The international components of graduate education appear to have suffered serious erosion (some evidence will be presented in a few moments). Part of this campaign should be the restoration of foreign-language requirements--not as across-the-board hurdles but as integral parts of regional specialization. And a foreign region should again be part of the specialization of every graduate student.

Next, graduate students should be urged to begin publishing their work early. Those who do not find themselves at an enormous disadvantage when seeking support for their Ph.D. research. The first competitive cut by granting agencies separates the published from the unpublished graduate student applicants. True, the path from observation to publication is not usually as short as it is in some of the so-called hard sciences, where a two-day observation of a beetle can lead to an article in a journal. We do, however, have a large number of journals with efficient editors, including regional and state publications, open to submissions. The value of an early and solid start in publication is incalculable.

Lastly under this rubric, predoctoral graduate students at all Ph.D. granting geography departments should (if it is not already a part of the curriculum) be compelled to take a course in funded-project-proposal preparation. This recommendation is based on evidence from approximately 400 research proposals examined over the past seven years: with few exceptions, applicants from geography do not have the skills evident in proposals received from disciplines ranging from anthropology to zoology. The conclusion that appropriate training in other disciplines is far more rigorous is inescapable. This generates an early disadvantage from which many applicants are unlikely to recover. Since funding is indispensable in (for example) field work in foreign areas, graduate students need better instruction in the preparation of abstracts, narratives, budgets, reviewer selections, and other segments of research project proposals. It is a survival skill owed to prospective candidates by all graduate programs.

A third matter for urgent attention touches sensitive nerves but should be pursued. We have reached a stage where some form of certification or accreditation of geography departments has become desirable. This issue has been raised in previous years, and decisions were postponed. Certification has an aura of control and interference, and it is sometimes viewed as a threat to department autonomy. But it also serves as a warning to administrators who allow departments to languish by failing to refill positions vacated by retirement or resignation, by failing to provide funds to keep equipment current, and by other kinds of the benign neglect with which we have recently become so familiar. Association support for a department in such circumstances could be a crucial element in the struggle to maintain quality. At the very least, it would put administrations on notice that their decisions are monitored; and it will provide early and objective evidence of administrative shortcomings. In this context, the assets of a form of association certification far outweigh the liabilities. As you know, the association has begun an endowment campaign. Here is a specific objective that may stimulate the kind of support that would permit funding of an appropriate representative in the central office.

My fourth and fifth proposals for collective action are connected, and they relate to the core issue raised earlier. Geography is quintessentially an international discipline, and this is one dimension of our heritage that has not faded from view. It is, however, an endangered legacy that must be reinforced. More than a dozen years ago a colleague referred to foreign-area research in geography as having gone from "boom to bust." ¹⁸ Surveys of the contents of our major journals reveal a substantial decline in the percentage of articles dealing with foreign areas or topics over the past 15 years. ¹⁹ In part this, too, is a result of the search for universal theories and laws. But it also reflects an isolationism and parochialism we should be able to cure -- whatever our specializations.

That the opportunities still exist is revealed by the results of a survey of departments of geography in the United States conducted in late 1986. The survey inquired into the extent to which departments and faculties participate in international work. Nearly 400 questionnaires were sent, and 232 were returned by the deadline, a very good response. Of these, 189 indicated that the university or college involved does have an active international program of study and research. The response to one question was of particular relevance to the present argument. Of 176 departments indicating involvement in international research and teaching, 10 described such participation as "major" and "central;" 64 assessed it as "moderate," and no fewer than 102 reported that relationships between geography and international programs were "minimal" or "none." ²⁰ This can be viewed as depressing and disappointing but it can also be seen as an enormous opportunity. There was a time when a student curious about a foreign area would think first of the regional course offered by the geography department; those days, too, are mostly over. But the evidence suggests that the area-studies hybrids that sprang up when we abandoned regional courses are no more successful than the social-studies fiasco in the high schools. Geography always does best by example, by demonstration, and here is a huge opportunity. No one who visits departments of geography in this country could fail to be impressed by the huge, often virtually untapped, pool of foreign-area talent still present there. I say untapped because many of these scholars now do little teaching, graduate-student guiding, or research in their foreign area of specialization; they have adapted to the shift in priorities and to departmental reward structures. Internal (departmental) ideological obstacles and external (organizational) barriers combine to perpetuate the status quo, but if we can overcome the first, we surely will surmount the second.

Evidence to support this prediction lies in the condition of related disciplines. Recently an interdisciplinary scholarly society of which many of us are members surveyed its membership, which consists of scholars in fields in the social as well as physical sciences. Its preliminary report on that survey describes the typical member as "somewhat insular in research experience and information (78 percent have never spent three months in a research environment outside North America)." It also reports that 77 percent of the membership have no normal research-related travel outside the continent, and that 75 percent seldom use any language other than English in their research. ²¹ These, of course, are the people who dominate curriculum committees and college councils, which is why our campaign will have to be internal at first. But by once again taking the lead in international endeavors, by redesigning curricula to that end, by renewing our commitment to foreign language training and area specialization, and by unleashing that residual mass of talent, geography departments will again become the foci of international action.

And this leads directly to my fifth proposal for collective initiative, a profession-wide rejuvenation of regional geography. I must confess that I am little concerned over methodology or philosophy; we spend lifetimes worrying over remonstrations about exceptionalism, traditionalism, specialism, and subjectivism. We do not need further exhortations on how to do regional geography; we should get out and do more of it. Approaches and research techniques may vary, but the shared objective--learning and communicating about the world--is served. Even "checklist" regional geography, P. Gould's favorite target, is not totally without merit. If it continued to exist somewhere along the way, perhaps it would not be necessary to report that 95 percent of incoming freshmen at a midwestern college last year could not locate Vietnam on a world map. ²² To communicate ideas, it is unfortunately necessary to share some basics, and those basics must be learned. They are--forgive the expression--facts. Our students come to us with mental maps so vague that our regionalizing is contextually lost on them. For years we will be in the business of remedial regional-geographic education. Again we are not alone. But our colleagues in chemistry seem less reluctant to enforce some familiarity with the Valency table, and foreign language training continues to require learning of vocabulary and conjugation. Physical geography demands a considerable vocabulary for productive communication. Regional geography should require no less.

It is worth every effort, because regional geography remains at the heart of the discipline. It is the single common thread in all those aforementioned discussions of geographic definitions, guidelines, and themes. It is the ultimate spatial repository for all our research reveals about this world. It is our meeting place, the focus of our dualisms, the core of our pursuits, and the ultimate expression of our shared objectives. It is the common ground for physical and human geographers, for traditionalists and innovators, for researchers and teachers. Whether through Landsat imagery or by counting pedestrians at a city intersection, we seek to contribute to understanding and communication - to learn why people and things are located where they are, and to tell the world about it. Regional geography, by whatever definition, is our sine qua non.

There is no denying that regional geography has suffered a grievous decline in the United States over the past two decades. The so-called new geography, the search for universalism in theory, and positivist denigrations of more traditional approaches have contributed to this. Still regional geography survives, and we may assume that if we do not pursue it, others will - as has been the case with other mainstreams of the discipline.

It is sometimes suggested that exhortations toward a return to traditional regional geography are misguided. ²³ But even traditional regional geography, when performed rigorously, can create a link between the discipline and the outside world, a bridge of understanding, and a basis for an answer to that omnipresent question: what is geography? There is less need for additional theoretical posturing than there is for action: field research, writing, publication. There is room for the full range of pursuits, from the empirical and taxonomic to the theoretical and abstract. A dozen editors of our regional journals will agree. How interesting it is that British, French, Dutch, and other major geographic journals including the American Geographical Society's Review continue to carry the kind of regional geography that once made our own association's journals such fascinating reading! ²⁴

Regional geography affords unparalleled opportunities to place geographic ideas and theories in real-world settings. In the early 1970s this was a promising direction, and it continues to be a productive system to build substantive regional knowledge while evincing the utility of, and insights gained through, geographic modeling. But it does require a base of substantive knowledge, and the decline thereof took its toll. Innovative thematic regional geographies such as T. Jordan's volume on Europe fell victim to the growing illiteracy of their audience. ²⁵ And so, today, many students again make first contact with the discipline through inventory-style regional geography, as was the case a generation ago. ²⁶ Yet there is hope for the future. When the GENIP effort begins to yield nationwide results, and students reach college with stronger backgrounds, it will be time to rebuild the regional-systematic linkage.

But there is more to regional geography's potential. I cannot think of anything more important, in this age of nuclear fear and random terror, than greater global understanding and respect for the traditional, cultural, and environmental attributes of other societies. Geography, perhaps above all, is communication--the diffusion of knowledge about the world. It is (or should be) the ultimate antidote to parochialism and isolationism. It is the discipline of synthesis, the link between research and scholarship on the one hand, and an informed citizenry on the other. That had been true for a century, before the events of recent years devalued geography's strongest currency. We live in a world straight jacketed by boundaries, beset by irrational nationalisms, bedeviled by systems that perpetuate inequality and unfairness, isolated by distance and ignorance from the experiences and feelings of billions with whom we share this earth. Now is the time to return to the field, to our international concerns, and to the reeducation of all of us as world citizens, as members of a world society. When we do so, we shall do it on the wings of regional geography, and our common ground -- our core -- will have been rediscovered.

Notes

1) J. Gottmann, "Technology and Life in the City." In press.

2) D. A. Lanegran, "Enhancing and Using a Sense of Place within Urban Areas: A Role for Applied Cultural Geography," Professional Geographer, vol. 38, no. 3, 1986, p. 224.

3) R. J. Johnston, "Understanding and Solving American Urban Problems: Geographical Contributions?" Professional Geographer, vol. 38, no. 3. 1986, p. 229.

4) J. S. Adams, "Housing Markets in the Twilight of Materialism," Professional Geographer, vol. 38, no. 3, 1986, p. 233.

5) R. J. Hartshorne, The Nature of Geography. Washington: Association of American Geographers, 1954.

6) P. E. James and C. F. Jones, American Geography: Inventory and Prospect. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1954.

7) N. M. Fenneman, "The Circumference of Geography," Annals of the Association of American Geographers, vol. 9, no. 1, 1919, P.3.

8) S. Hilliard, Personal Communication.

9) Association of American Geographers, Guide to Departments of Geography in the United States and Canada, 1986-1987. Washington, D.C.: AAG, 1986.

10) Pattison, W. "The Four Traditions of Geography," Journal of Geography, vol. 63, 1964, p. 211.

11) NCGE/AAG, Guidelines for Geographic Education. Washington: AAG, 1984.

12) National Geographic Society, GENIP Map of the United States, Washington, D. C.: NGS, 1986.

13) C. W. Olmstead, "Knowing and Being who We Are," Journal of Geography, vol. 86, no. 1, 1987, p.3

14) E. Taaffe et. Al., Geography as a Social Science.

15) E. W. Taaffe, "The Spatial View in Context," Annals of the Association of American Geographers, vol. 64, pp. 1-16.

16) NCGE/AAG, Op Cit.

17) G. M. Grosvenor, "The Society and the Discipline," Professional Geographer, vol. 36, no. 4, 1984, pp. 413-418.

18) M. W. Mikesell, ed. Geographers Abroad. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1973, p. 111.

19) Swearingen, W. D., "Foreign Languages and the Terrae Incognitae," Professional Geographer, vol. 36, no. 2, p. 73.

20) Questionnaires were distributed by the Education Subcommittee of the International Action Committee, AAG, October, 1986.

21) Sigma Xi Newsletter, June, 1986, p. 2, New Haven, Connecticut: 1986.

22) G. M. Grosvenor, Geographic Education: an Investment in Your Students' Future. Speech before the American Association of School Administrators, New Orleans, February 22, 1987, p. 4.

23) As gauged in the response to J. F. Hart, "The Highest Form of the Geographer's Art," Annals of the Association of American Geographers, vol. 72, no. 1, p. 1.

24) For example, A. T. Grove, "The State of Africa in the 1980s," Geographical Journal, vol. 152, no. 2, pp. 193-203.

25) T. Jordan, The European Culture Area. New York: Harper & Row, 1973.

26) R. Jackson and L. Hudman, World Regional Geography. New York: John Wiley & Sons, 1985 (2nd ed.).