coldhearted scientist وداد

Remember, y’all — all of my stories are jumbled, and none are entirely current or literally true; I am a sculpted skull on a stela at Copán and I am not talking about any one individual in particular.

Still, perhaps we just shouldn’t hire any more Latin men unless they are married, as this tribe appears to be extremely needy. I understand why: they lived at home through college; they were brought from their countries to the US graduate program where their professor had gotten a job; they were taken care of there by that professor and his wife; now they are on their own for the first time. Perhaps the real reason why, in the past, people looked for family men was not that one wanted stability; it was that one wanted them to come with their own caretaker preinstalled.

Advice I got in graduate school was to start reading the sports pages when I became an assistant professor, because then I’d have something manly to discuss on coffee breaks. I think Rolling Stone is a better suggestion since it is more entertaining and it also gives you something to discuss with students. For faculty, the regular news is good enough and they, too, like to talk about music and movies. It is unwise to say you went out to see a live show, since that means you are an enterprising person and you were not working, but to have seen it on tv makes you cool to just the right degree.

What actual assistant professors seem to think is a good topic of conversation is how terrible everything is. Someone has to tell them to stop. We know where the problems are; we did not lie at the interviews; we have solutions and suggestions. For social conversation other topics are necessary, and this is what these entities appear not to understand. To a certain extent I am willing to talk other kinds of shop socially – research, innovative course design, news from the legislature, and so on are all interesting. Moaning and sighing, on the other hand, are not at all attractive as bonding activities; these individuals who were recently graduate students believe they are.

Another thing not to do as new faculty is to demand other peoples’ CDs and DVDs on loan. Loans are privileges not a right, and to demand them is not a compliment and not cute, and even if I did lend my LPs to a mere graduate student and let him keep them for months to copy them, he was someone I knew and I was not using these LPs. On the other hand, one of the assistant professors demanded a CD of me to copy it, and returned it to me with other material copied onto it … and it had been a rare CD. He also demanded blank CDs of me to copy music he thought I would like, and was surprised when I said I needed the CD-RWs I had for work and that, since I am working 84 hours a week this term, was not going to have a chance to buy more for the next 15 days.

The other thing is that with great difficulty I obtained $600 from the University to buy films for my new classes, and these films are still coming in because I was not allowed to order soon enough and some films are coming from odd places. Every time I get a package, this assistant professor says, “Lend me that film! I will preview it for you!”  I do not need that kind of help and if I did, I’d ask a student, since it is a film course and they are expected to see many films anyway. To ask at all, and especially in the way this person did, is very much out of line — these films are still in plastic, and they are for my class. I barely know this young man who has already ruined one of my CDs, and he does not understand (a) how hard the films were to get or (b) that they are not my property to lend, but the University’s.

This resolute individual did not understand it until, after several repetitions, I said it in writing with a copy to the department chair; now the poor child is hurt. Then he saw me go off to lunch with his rivals, so he is pouting. This week there are a series of interesting cultural events in town, but he says he will not go because nobody will “take” him (we’re all walking in on our own schedules, dear heart).

*

At my university there is a TGIF for everyone involved with things Iberian. Faculty and students from various departments gather at a restaurant with a terrace and have a long lunch, starting at the Latin hour of 1:30. People bring their children and we relax. One can leave earlier but the event — which is extremely pleasant and also useful, since it is among other things a chance to explain (for example) to unsure students why they really ought to go on study abroad now, not later, and so on — does not really disband until about 5:30. By that time the tension of the week is gone, faith in teaching and collegiality is restored, and we are ready to start again.

I tend to go back to the office, and the undergraduates go off to wait on tables or work some other kind of night shift. Other professors go back to the offices as well, or go home; the graduate students and instructors go down to the town square where there is usually a band in the bandstand, and drink beer. Then they have dinner, either in a restaurant or in their nearby houses, and then at 10 or 11 PM they go out again, for the night sounds.

Neither of our newer people are willing to attend any of these events, although they do complain that there are not enough dinner parties; that I do not have lunch alone with them often enough; and that neither I nor the other woman faculty member with a pleasant house and hostessing skills give enough of our famous cocktail parties. The reason they will not attend the Friday event, they allege, is that students are present and it is improper. Their real reason, I suspect, is that they will not be the center of attention; they will have to make actual social connections rather than complain or gossip; and they will see that arguing and suffering are not required.

Axé.