I read an article recently about a
number of professors who are receiving food stamps. My first reaction: Them
damn liberal professors are at it again, feeding at the public trough. Then I
thought, no, what this means is, like some of our military folks, there is
another group of people who cannot make a living at their chosen profession. The
proof is that their salaries are low enough for them to quality for the stamps.
While I’m appalled at both
situations, it’s the professorial one that I’m wondering about right now. And
this started me thinking about professors I have known.
At the University of Massachusetts
Dartmouth I served as dean of Continuing Education for a spell. One evening I
noticed a forty-something-year-old man sort of wandering around the reception
area and looking uncomfortable. I struck up a conversation and found that he
was a successful businessman in Southern New England. The man wanted to prove
something to himself. Years ago, he had started college but never finished, and
now wondered if he really had what it took to do college-level work. I
recognized him as we talked, and knew him to be politically conservative with a
strong sense of self-confidence, and a sense of humor. He ran a right-leaning morning
talk show out of his diner—one of my favorite diners in the area. So, I suggested
that he just take one course and see how it went. I suggested a rigorous
course taught by a professor who was respected by students. He took my suggestion, and agreed to
check back with me on the progress of the course.
A month later, the businessman
walked into my office with a big smile on his face. “The professor is out of
his mind, the course is great, I learned a lot, and thank you,” he said. Although he decided not
to pursue a degree, the decision was made with confidence and for the right
reasons; he knew he could handle whatever the University had to offer.
To me, this story epitomizes the
best of what a professor can do. This professor, a left-leaning friend of mine, was a
practicing Irishman, president of the American Federation of Teachers union at
UMassD, who took me on several
Irish drinking tours of Fall River, Massachusetts—wonderful experiences by the
way; he was a master story teller and politician in the best sense of that word.
He was witty, engaging, and loved to challenge his students. His long career
provided for a marginal retirement income.
There are lots of these people out
there. A friend of mine grew up in South Boston, the son of factory workers. I
watched him engage freshman English students, students who had difficulty
reading and writing, students who had not survived in college elsewhere,
students for whom this college experience was their last hope. This professor
could relate. They learned. He is now Poet Laureate of New Hampshire, still
teaching, now at Goddard College. His income has never been anywhere near
commensurate with his status, but he is a professional who does what he loves.
Two friends retired from a major
pharmaceutical company and now are professors at a large community college, he
teaching mathematics, she English. Both teach at what used to be called a “remedial”
level, and although the adjective has changed the reality has not. The students
come to the school with serious issues of all kinds—physical, professional,
personal—and professors charged with helping them do not stop at the
mathematical and reading/writing concerns. It’s impossible. So, these
professionals from the “other real world” of corporate America now are
professionals dealing with the “real world” of higher education and changing peoples’ lives. They do not
dare calculate how much money they earn per hour, but they are professionals
who love what they do.
Lots of stories. Not every
professor is on food stamps, but I've never known a wealthy professor. Of course, I've never been allowed to know ivied professors--wonder if they are rich. Not
every professor will take you on an Irish drinking tour of Fall River, either, and that's too bad indeed.
But they all
have stories to tell.
I’m wondering if there is a need to start a new blog, something
along the lines of “Fears, Tears, and Beers: Professors’ Stories” to chronicle
these stories. Friend John LaNear and I are planning to do so soon, and will be
looking for real stories from real, underpaid, overworked professionals who
love what they do and want to share some stories from their “real worlds”.
Stay tuned.
