Thread:Una74/@comment-71.58.210.121-20171010133156/@comment-33557326-20171105021851

Thank you for providing a tiny bit of information, though I still don’t have access to any specifics to discuss. The conversation has taken an exceptionally ironic twist since I spend far too much of my own time ranting about the injustices of life under a hierarchical system reminiscent of Machiavelli’s era. Every day I stumble across some new and annoying way that my ability to control or even access the products of my own ingenuity are perpetually contingent on the good will of those who — by luck or pluck — sit higher than I in status. I freely acknowledge that some risked far more than I did and some worked harder. I wanted to teach at my Alma Mattar and I feel lucky that FT positions afforded me the flexibility to enjoy that opportunity. I understood that I would lose money and teach a higher load, but my extended family is here and, again, the novelty and flexibility of the FT system has afforded me great chances to work in different departments, design classes, lead study abroad, and lead Faculty Senate Caucus. But it’s been disconcerting to find myself at the bottom of the status game. I feel it in my heart when vice-presidents I know avert their eyes to avoid me when more important people are around. I’ve cried when my “friends”, so caught up in their own power struggles, have cut me off in meetings or butted in front of me in lines to meet esteemed college guests. I frantically patrol my “territory” — classes I’ve designed, administrative posts, office space — with vigilance and scream bloody murder at the slightest threat. I hate it when administrators try to use me to “solve” grade inflation by bullying me into giving low grades and using the psychological double bind to claim that “good teachers give bad grades” when, obviously, good teachers do a good job teaching their students so, at least in this system, their students should be getting better grades as markers of success, not negligence. I still give whatever grades I choose and that entire debate is still obviously damaging my mental health as evidenced by the length of this section....

All that you mention, including the sense that Tenure Track Professors set the very tone of conversation, shapes the core content of three or four public tirades a week from me. Wisely or not, I tell the “high status” people if I think they’re being stupid because, let’s face it, we’re not clinging to half million dollar a year jobs here. I am in no way paid enough to stifle my feelings on a daily basis. If I wanted to exhibit that level of self control and experience so little freedom, I’d just go corporate. Why be here, in academia, otherwise? We’re not getting rich. We “get” fun. That’s it. Once that’s gone, it’s so not worth being here.

So your points are not lost. What I still don’t see is why you think Michael is such a special, worthy target in this regard? I interact with Michael in actual real life, quite often, and I’ve already explained that he’s consistently been the exact opposite with me and others I know — respectful (and not in a dumb patronizing way), genuine, open. People like Michael are what make some of the others tolerable. Happily, I’ve found quite a few Michaels. But we’re in a dystopian system. People I adore (even here, NOT Michael!) have reduced me to public tears by ignoring my points or dismissing me in meetings. I feel left out, a lot. But I’ve also become oversensitive. So perhaps we’d all benefit from some self-reflection?

The great irony right here right now is that YOU, the anonymous posters, are the ones minimizing me. I, not Michael, accused you of lacking evidence and urged you to support your own claims openly. I made the snarky comments. It’s as if the very people who want to claim some sort of “solidarity” (stupid tactic for all but the weakest faculty members) are the ones acting as if I, the “Associate Teaching Professor” (we just got those titles so I was aiming for a cute user name....the cuteness of three long capitalized words has long worn off for me) simply don’t exist. I’m irrelevant. Michael is some sort of infamous monster because he didn’t realize Rebecca was pregnant (yet again, he’s the farthest thing from a monster) while I can drone on for pages with few posters bothering to look up who I am. I’m shocked that Michael has been as patient as he has. Had I been so unfairly treated, I’d have said and done far, far worse.

Whoever you are, you’re picking on the wrong bogeyman. Meanwhile, if you had guts, you’d reveal your identity and not hide behind your faux oppressed status. You have at least college degrees, have laptops and iPads, probably ate dinner tonight and possess literacy. It’s fun to make believe that we’re Ghandi or MLK, staging hunger strikes and fighting for our survival. But we’re not! We are people who don’t like everything about our jobs. Who does? I’m all for strategically using the oppressed card, but when you carry personal grudges for years and years you may want to start questioning your basis in reality. Michael didn’t assign your salaries, offices, or classes. If he’d had the chance I KNOW he’d help you in any ways he could. So, I’m going to remain happy that, of all of these people, Michael is my real life friend and the rest of you are cowards hiding in the internet.