This has
been a solemn week at Enema U. We have
had a long series of orientations and convocations, I have heard the school
fight song played reverently in lofty chambers.... and somewhere it suddenly
dawned on me: I work in organized religion. Actually, to be specific, being a professor
is a lot like being the pope. Please
consider the following evidence:
Professors are infallible. At least as far as my students think--I can
burp in class and three students will write it down in fear that it will be on
next week's test. Students today never challenge authority. Not only will they believe everything on the
internet, but after fifteen minutes of blurry PowerPoint slides, a couple of
maps and a few B&W photos of famous dead white men, I can get a class to
believe that George Washington bombed Hiroshima. That
is speaking ex cathedra!
The job is for life. As soon as the
Council of Cardinals (more commonly known as the Committee for Promotion and
Tenure) votes in approval and tenure is granted, there is very little chance of
removal from office. Some departments on
campus have less turnover than the House of Lords or Congress--with pretty much
the same result. After a few decades of
stagnation, quite a few professors become about as spontaneous as stalactites.
We all drive the Popemobile. Well, most of them are actually Toyota Priuses. Prii? Prions?
As far as I am concerned, it takes religious fervor to believe that an
electric golf cart with weird windows is really a car. And the Prius
is worse. Actually, this is a very
common religious tenet among faculty.
After careful study of the sacred text (The Gospel According to Rachel
Carson) you will learn that living the perfect life (No Nukes! No Fracking! No Exxon!) will return us all to
a sustainable Garden of Eden. (No
Fracking Way!)
We spend our days in contemplation and reading. Ah, the pursuits of the mind. We slowly walk in unison through the
cloisters to the library. If you listen
carefully, you can hear our chant: Deus
bonus est, Deus bonus est, Domino finem fecerit pizza.
Now that you mention it, we speak Latin. Go to any graduation and look for the faculty--we're easy
to spot. "We be wearin' satin and
speakin' Latin". The school motto, Veni, Vidi, Velcro (I came, I saw, I
stuck around) is prominently displayed.
The campus is lousy with Latin inscriptions. A few of us even know what they mean.
We dress alike. Papal robes. Caps and gowns. We all look like we are wearing some old
woman's ugly dress. The Pope has a
better hat, but the faculty don't have to wear ruby slippers from the Wizard of
Oz.
During our sermons, people try unsuccessfully to stay
awake. Now this is a problem that I
personally do not have in my classes,
but I hear that some of my associates have had a few students drift off during
their scintillating lectures. While
history is never boring, evidently
quite a few historians are.
A
few...um....decades ago I took a required class in Medieval European
Architecture. Meeting in the afternoon
for two and a half hours, the class sat in the dark, looking at endless slides
while the professor monotonously droned, "And here we see another fucking
old Carolingian church..."
Or at
least, that is what I remember before I fell asleep. The only other place I can remember being
this bored was church.
Neither the pope nor faculty are likely to get laid. Not only is this officially frowned upon, but
as a group, we professors just aren't very cool. (There evidently haven't been any really cool, sexy university professors
since the 1960's!). For the faculty, sex
on campus is unlikely (except for those who teach Animal Husbandry).
And,
last but not least, just like any other organized religion, we take people in
when they have nothing but beliefs, and force them out when they begin to know
something.
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