Campus Equity Week? Let's Have Campus Equity Year . . .

Or century - how about that?

This week - October 28-November 2 is designated Campus Equity Week. The organizations behind this event ask us to wear red or scarlet on Wednesday, October 30. The Clarion University Faces of Retrenchment and other groups within the PASSHE system are asking us to wear black all week to mourn the loss of faculty and programs.

I can do those things. I can also wear pink and buy yogurt with a pink ribbon, but it doesn't stop breast cancer. In fact, I'm so tired of being urged to greater awareness of breast cancer I want to scream.

But the cancer eating academia is not as famous. There are no Races for the Cure of adjunctivitis. So wearing black all week - black with scarlet accents or vice versa on Wednesday - isn't nearly as annoying. But while the awareness of breast cancer is so pervasive that everyone immediately knows why even NFL players are wearing pink in October, I doubt very much that anyone will understand the symbolism of my wardrobe this week - even on my campus.

I will say that the life and death of Margaret Mary Vojtko has increased awareness phenomenally. But phenomenally is not nearly enough.

And awareness is not nearly enough. Let us Race for the Cure for Adjunctivitis and Other Academic Cancers.

Who's Got the Adjunct Blues?

According to a great song (and thanks to Matthew Ussia), we all do - professors, teachers, parents . . .  the only stakeholders (don't you just love how I've learned educational jargon?) not mentioned in the song are the administrators.

And that's because they're not blue at all. They're laughing all the way to the bank.

For now. But when we claim to be following the business model for education, it's a very specific business model based on short-term profit. So dedicating the budget to Taj Mahal*-style dorms makes sense - it brings in more customers, and they pay more for the privilege of living in the lap of luxury. Dedicating the budget to top-heavy administration makes sense, because, duh, it's the heavy administrators at the top who are setting the budget.

But dedicating the budget to education? To teachers, updated classrooms, better libraries? How would that appeal to the customer - the customer who is, by the way, an 18 year old. And, as every business person knows, the customer - at any age - is always right.

Here's a library story for any doubters out there: At a public university near and dear to my heart, the library steps were crumbling. Seems there was a spring or other source of water under them determined to bring them down. Did the university replace the sensible steps with new sensible steps, after solving the water problem? They did not. They constructed an elaborate marble staircase with the library name engraved on the wall.

Inside, the librarians were thinking, Really? When we keep asking for more books and data bases?

So when the full-time professors are gone; when the contents of the library are gone, what's left? Nothing. Colleges and universities will be just one more set of boarded up big box stores.



*And, yes, I know the Taj Mahal is a mausoleum. Wonder how many of the college students living in those dorms knows that.

Broken Computer Charger Changes Everything

Two weeks ago, I wrote about my actual, real, true workload - the work I and other faculty do outside of the classroom. This week, a music professor from Allegheny College wrote a similar story in response to the great state of Pennsylvania's attack on the state university system. He also debunks the myth of the overpaid, underworked teacher - you can read it here.

Yesterday morning, the absolute truth of both of our essays hit home. When I woke up, I discovered that my laptop computer had not charged. It would not charge. It would not come on when it was plugged in.

I called Apple and they are sending me a new adapter, which should come tomorrow or Friday.

When I went home for dinner (before returning to school for rehearsal of the play I'm directing), I thought I'd do a little work, as I often do over dinner.

Oops. No computer.

This morning, over breakfast, I checked my school email on my phone.

I'm writing this during my office hours and realizing I'll probably have to stay in my office over the dinner hour because, again, no computer at home.

And out of my six-figure income (ha! not quite half that . . .), I pay for my computer, my internet service, my phone, and my phone service. And I could not do my job without those things.

Or without working over meals at home.

I Must Have Done Something Right!

Apparently this blog has stepped on some overly sensitive toes. So I’ll just say this: if I am making you angry about the labor conditions in higher education, good. Keep reading. If I am making you angry because I am exposing labor conditions that you would rather have hidden, feel free to never read it again. Or better yet – examine your own conscience.

My goal is to bring the conditions for contingent faculty to light in the larger world outside the academy. If it raises questions and tempers within the academy, that’s fine by me.

Many of my friends in contingent positions have told me they are afraid to share my blog or comment on it because they teach at the will of their administrations. I am proud that my department chair is supporting my work on their behalf.

And as a side note – I've never burned any bridges. I have good friends everywhere I have ever taught. Friends who keep in touch with me . . . This has turned out to be a very good policy.

The Complicated Lives of Students in 2013

I received my undergraduate degree - a BA in English literature - in May of 1976. I was not a brilliant student. Duquesne University was too big and overwhelming for me. I was probably a student who would have benefitted from a year off between high school and college. I just wasn't ready.

I came from a low-income family. My father, a college graduate, had died when I was 15, and my experiences were more like those of first-generation college students. I had a horrible bout of depression my junior year, which caused me to get fired from my work study job - ironically, in the campus office that provided counseling.

But in spite of all that, I had a much simpler and easier time in college than my students do.

Because I encourage personal writing in my composition courses and I teach memoir writing, I probably know more about my students than most of my colleagues. I know which one was raped at 12, which one was beaten and locked in a closet by her father, which one's father came out as gay and left his family of six children and a bewildered wife.

My students are mostly first-generation college students. They are either very rural West Virginians or very urban inner-city athletes. The are from low socio-economic families and come unprepared from underperforming K-12 systems.

They are frequently from one parent homes, or raised by their grandparents. There is alcoholism, drug addiction, and jail in their backgrounds.

These are the students who deserve the best teachers, the most dedicated and knowledgable. They need programs like music and foreign language and ancient philosophies - the courses most frequently cut by public colleges and universities but remain a source of pride in elite universities.

Our approach to education at all levels is just wrong. Like corporations and individuals, for colleges, the rich get rich and the poor get poorer. And there's nothing surer than this: The current system will increase the ever-increasing divide between rich and poor and head us for destruction or revolution.

Or both.