Copyright © Louis Schmier and Atwood Publishing.
Date: Wed, 02 May 2001 08:53:01 -0400 (EDT)
Random Thought: Tenure
Nice walk this balmy morning. Not nice thoughts. I was thinking
about a brief but sad conversation I had last week with a colleague from
another department in front of the library. I haven't been able to get it
out of my mind and heart. And, I been hesitant to share my feeling and
thoughts for fear it will get me into trouble. Here goes.
"Hey, Louis, are you doing to the festivities?" he asked
"No. Are you?"
"Yes. I have to."
"Have to? Why do you have to? Did someone tell you that you had
to?"
"No, but I haven't got tenure like you."
"Someone taking role? Taking off points for absences?"
"No. But, I can't take a chance. I'm a piece of shit around here
until I get tenure. I can't just do anything I want. I've got to be seen
there."
"Tell me how it goes."
Do you hear it? The swoosh of that mythical Greek sword. Do you
hear it? The quiet rush to get the guarantee of a job? Do you hear it?
The silent going-about-our business, the hesitancy to rock the boat, the
reluctance to disturb the calm, the worry about what others will think,
the refusal to be out of step. Do you hear it? The fearful stillness not
to jeopardize the prospect of be able to fill out that guarantee card.
If there is any noticeable sound, it is the thud of
rubber-stamping that so often stamps out any inclination to take a stand
or get involved or speak out.
Conformity. Uniformity. Caged. Tamed. So boxed in that you
won't or can't step out of the box. So often treated as and allowing
ourselves to be treated as hirelings, you would think the Thirteenth
Amendment was repealled. An so many of us thought that such treatment
ended when we left graduate school.
Disturb, discomfort, question, endanger, risk, challenge, voice,
provoke are not in the vocabulary of most of those in quest of the golden
fleece of that union card we call tenure.
So many of us look over their shoulder, strain to hear the
slightest noise, see figures lurking in the shadows, are preoccupied with
what they imagine others think. Far too many of us academics pride
ourselves on being free and independent and professional, and in truth act
so sheepishly, jump through perceived hoops at the crack of whips. They
are so well-behaved. So immpeccably dressed. Too many place ourselves
under imaginary thumbs, hanging on to our excuses rather than hanging them
up. We are not honest enough--or maybe strong enough--to reveal
ourselves. We hide behind fear of exposure and rejection. We don't allow
ourselves to spend our profession our own way.
Alas, most of us academics just aren't Jasons. As a consequence,
in the quest of the golden fleece of tenure most of us fleece ourselves or
allow ourselves to get fleeced. We fill our hearts and minds with
constricting and destructive anxiety, negativity, and worry. We control
ourselves, bowing with hat in hand, and let other control us.
"Oh, wait until we get tenure," so many proclaim in their
defense, "and then you'll hear from us." That may be reasonable. Each of
us has to decide how much we are willing to pay to maintain our integrity.
Certainly, the number of plates on the table we have to fill make that
decision commensurately more difficult. Play the game to get in the game
no matter whomever or whatever has to be compromised or sacrificed. So
many of us allow ourselves to be treated as or treat ourselves as anything
but as the professionals we are. The problem is that once we're in the
habit of living under someone else's thumb, it's hard to give someone the
thumb or any other finger. Once you're tamed, it's hard to live on your
own. What is unreasonable is that we still don't hear from them. They
still go about a business-as-usual. The game playing continues, but they
never get in the game. They're still boxed in, still conforming. The
silence and invisibility continues with so many, sanctified by a host of
other explanations, rationalizations, and excuses: evaluations, pay
raises, leaves, course assignments, etc. And, as a consequence too many
campuses too often seethe with rest and are deafened by that sad stillness
and dangerous, monotonous rhythmic rubber-stamping.
Tenure was never meant to be simply union card it has become. It
was never meant to be a commitment to getting a permanent job; it is not
dedication to keeping a job. It was never meant to be a weapon in campus
politics. Yes, tenure is designed to provide a safe haven, but for what
and from whom? Many loudly proclaim that it protects academic freedom.
Yet, except for the few undaunted, they usually don't feel free and don't
freely exercise that freedom, unless its safe to do so.
Doesn't tenure come with responsibilities? It doesn't seem so for
most academics. The number of educators who speak out on even small
issues seems so small either because they fear offending someone, they're
buried in their own world of research and publication, they still fear for
their position, just as when they were pursuing that golden fleece.
To paraphrase a bumper sticker one of my colleagues has on her
door: well-behaved faculty don't make history. They don't affect change.
They don't leave a legacy. They only reinforce, support, and encourage a
submissive, passive, fearful and/or disinterested, controlling culture of
going along to get along, of catering to what they think others in and out
of academia want and think.
In silence and calm academia is at its worse. It is at its best
when it is provocative. Academia is least inspiring when it patronizingly
puffs up cushions to make people comfortable. Academia is most inspiring
when it makes people shift uncomfortably in their seats. Academia earns
least respect when it clothes the emperor. Academia earns most respect,
however begrudgingly, when it sheds the emperor of his clothes.
Maybe success in academia should be defined not so much as
acquiring tenure as a scorn of tenure as it is presently misused and
abused by those seeking it and by those granting it. Then, maybe we will
dare to make mistakes and never make the mistake of not daring.
Am I exaggerating? Maybe. Then again, I can. I have tenure.
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