Academia Trauma

I had something of a personal revelation this week. I had accepted as teaching position at a small college in the South and reported for new faculty orientation on Wednesday afternoon of this week. As I sat through the orientation I experienced two incidents, not incidents, really, they were more like traumatic psych observations. The first was the simple fact that NO ONE spoke to me. No one introduced themselves and all but one scrupulously avoided eye contact. In regular business meetings participants at least acknowledge your look and at least regularly introduce themselves to those sitting next to them. I found this avoidance very disturbing.

The second traumatic psych experience came when the VP of Academic Affairs announced we had three mandatory ceremonies a year where we had to wear academic regalia. I immediately dug in my psyche heels. I hate academic regalia. I hate wearing academic regalia. I hate everything academic regalia stands for. I had no idea when I began my academic graduate work that I would have to dress as the Grand Poohbah or the Assistant Grand Poohbah to impress the locals. I avoid any and all manners or mannerisms designed to indicate social rank. As a consequence of my avoidance I detest ritual as ritual is designed to emphasize those social distinctions. Now, if social distinctions were customarily interpreted as, “I am a store clerk,” or, “I am a lawyer,” and was left at that I would have little problem. But, most would interpret someone who is a lawyer as socially superior to a store clerk. (Well, may be not a lawyer! A bottom feeder is a bottom feeder.) In any case, I immediately began formulating schemes for avoiding attending these mandatory ceremonies. Had a simple business suit been required I would have had no difficulty accepting the requirement.

That is when I realized I wanted nothing more to do with academia. I used to teach Freshman Composition and was happy to do so. But in the last eight years I have increasingly become a high school freshman English teacher rather than a college Freshman Composition Instructor. Composition Instructors are now expected to teach reading skills to students who can barely read, grammar skills to students who cannot identify an adjective, and critical thinking skills to students who have no clue as to what a syllogism may be. In addition, college freshman are increasingly materialistic and so full of self-esteem that earning an A with less than 2 hours of homework a semester in their high school studies is absolute proof of their intellectual skills and value. Earning any grade less than an A with more than the two hours a semester of homework is evidence of the Instructor’s incompetence not the student’s lack of preparation or drive. And, if they have not fallen into the high school A trap they are members of the “too cool for school” crowd. These students have learned that an outrageous offense is the best strategy for passing a course by exerting the least amount of intellectual effort. For example, young women failing a course make sexual harassment accusations against their 80 year old professors emeritus or some other outrageous accusation they cannot substantiate or have any intention of substantiating. They suffer no consequence from their accusations and often are granted some consideration that makes their work load easier.

I realized as I sat in that meeting I cannot trust anyone in academia for any kind of personal support. As an academic faculty, I have only my disappearance into the pack as protection against a feckless administration and recklessly vicious students. Survival in Academia depends upon complete social camouflage, a total disappearance of the self into a Wal-Mart inspired mural of departmental collegiality, of a silencing of your voice in the background noise of endlessly recycled theses as original work, and of your dreams of changing the world in endlessly recycled PowerPoint lectures offered as inspired teaching.

In short, I declined the position and will never step into a college classroom again. AMEN!