There are actually a number of reasons I like this job, I even like the pay. It’s not great, but I can’t complain too much. Besides, the job has a lot of fringe benefits.
These benefits do not include what many of my friends seems to believe is the best part of my job. Yes, the campus is over half female, most of them about half my age, most are fairly attractive, some of them are absolutely stunning. I will admit that occasionally as I walk to class admiring the view, I have to remind myself, “They actually pay me to be here!”
But what my friends do not understand is that these young attractive women will unfortunately, sooner or later, open their mouths and talk. And when they do talk, almost immediately, I feel ancient, elderly, and profoundly disinterested. A couple of months ago, I was walking past the library and noticed that my path was going to cross that of two young women returning from the pool. They were certainly pretty and I briefly thought of what my friends might say.
As I passed them, one turned to the other and said, “Ya know? This is the best gum I’ve ever had!”
There are some better rewards. One of them has to be the incredible feeling you get in a classroom. . A hundred pairs of eyes unblinkingly staring at you. Students believe anything you say. I swear, you could burp and 50 people would take notes. Years ago, I was teaching Western Civ, talking about the Trojan War when I suddenly noticed that everyone had stopped taking notes. The students were leaning forward, unblinkingly listening to my every word. This usually means the students are actually enjoying what they are hearing, in this case obviously because they had never heard the story of the Trojan Horse before. Evidently their high school history teachers/football coaches had never got around to that little nugget of history.
Suddenly, I remembered Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I confess that there are about a hundred students somewhere in New Mexico who can tell you all about the Trojan Rabbit.
I admit to enjoying that. I have already mentally planned my last class before retirement. For my final lecture, I want to talk about Caesar’s Gallic Campaigns. But I want to add air power. Nothing strategic, just tactical air power. Veni, vidi, strafi. I came, I saw, I strafed.
Teaching has a great dress code. Gone are the tweed sports coats with the leather elbow patches. I’m not certain there is a pattern. I would be hard pressed to find something in my closet that I could not wear to class. Shorts, t-shirts, and tennis shoes…. People expect a university professor to be eccentric.And everyone expects a history professor to be absent minded. What a wonderful freedom it is to be judged non compos mentis.
Certainly one of the best perks of my job is getting free books. Not only will the library search the world over for me and try to find me a copy of the most obscure book I can think of (yes, I have read Robert Stroud, aka Birdman of Alcatraz’s book on the care and feeding of birds) but periodically, publishers give me books in the hope I will use them in my classes. Fantastic. I like books much better than people.
Of course, not all the books are worthwhile. Recently someone sent me “A History of the US Postal System Between 1808 and 1824.” I doubt that the author’s mother read this. These books have their uses, however. For this, I am indebted to a former history professor I had when I was a student. It seems that he, too, used to get unsolicited books. I know this, because one day, I was walking past his office.
“Mr. Milliorn,” he said. “I have something here that I think will help you in your studies.” And he handed me a book on Olduvai Valley tool traditions. Well, if the head of the department thinks you need to read up on stone tools made by early man, you read the damn book. And a couple of other books on the same subject.
After a couple of weeks, I went back to see him. At that moment, I was undoubtedly the best read person in the state on that somewhat narrow topic. I can’t say I enjoyed reading that crap, but I was ready to discuss it with the department head. Only to discover he didn’t remember giving me the book, and couldn’t have cared less about stone tools. Seems he did that regularly with history students.
Right now, I have a student learning all he can about early 19th century postal delivery.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Normally, I would never force comments to be moderated. However, in the last month, Russian hackers have added hundreds of bogus comments, most of which either talk about Ukraine or try to sell some crappy product. As soon as they stop, I'll turn this nonsense off.