"Externally there was nothing to hinder his making another start on the upward slope, and by his new lights achieving higher things than his soul in its half-formed state had been able to acoomplish. But the ingenious machinery contrived by the Gods for reducing human possibilities of amelioration to a minimum--which arranges that wisdom shall come paripassu with the departure of zest for doing--stood in the way of all that. He had no wish to make an arena a second time of a world that had become a mere painted scene for him."
--Thomas Hardy, Mayor of Casterbridge
Monday, September 28, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Leaving Town and Taking Down Tents
It became real when I drove out of town with my car loaded with all of my worldly possessions. Up until that point, it was like I was on break or sabbatical. But driving out of town realizing that I would never be back, that was hard, real hard. Perhaps the hardest thing I've ever done. It reminds me of when I left Chicago, but that's a long story and one I don't want to tell, but it was the last time I remember feeling this lost. Then it was also a leap into the dark, and the jury is still out on how that turned out. In any case, I think it is going to take some time to recover my bearings.
In the meantime, here is a desciption of one of the activities performed while at the retreat center. The 9-5 physical labor I engaged in there was a nice break from the mental torture I had been feeling for the previous months and it is a simplicity I find myself longing for now.
Taking down tents
One of my favorite things to do was to take down tents. The process required two, and preferably three, people. These were big canvass tents that were constructed for two people to live in comfortably, or at least as comfortably as one can live in a tent. The first thing you had to do was to inspect the tents to make sure that people were no longer living in them. Once this was verified, you had to empty the tent of its furniture, which usually consisted of two wooden bed frames, foam mattresses, wooden clothes racks and book shelves. The clothes racks and book shelves were stuffed under the platforms on which the tents were situated, to be pulled out the following spring. The mattresses and frames were carried off to a separate location to be stored for pick up later. Once this preliminary work was done, one person on the crew used a drill to unscrew the tent from the various places were it was screwed into the platform, making sure to leave it screwed in, however, in one place at each of the four corners. Next (or actually usually at the same time) another person on the crew went into the tent and untied the ties that bound the tent to the metal poles on the inside. Also, this person had to make sure the flaps over the windows were rolled down. At this point, the deconstruction of the tent could begin. Two people went inside the tent and first each person kicked a metal pole at the front of the ten from where it had been wedged as part of the frame. As that collapsed from each side, the person holding the pole pulled (or usually kicked) the pole into sections and tossed the sections outside the tent. Next, each person did the same with the framing at the back of the tent. Finally it was time to take down the center frame which was high above the head. The two people had to agree which way to kick the pole. Then as it fell each person had to untie the tent from where it had been tied to the center pole. At this point, the tent would be collapsing upon itself, so it was usually up to the person in the back of the tent to work his way through the falling tent while the person at the front held part of the tent open for him to escape. Once they were both out, the metal poles would then be stuffed under the wooden platform, to be utilized the following spring. At this point, the tent was completely collapsed onto the frame and had to be folded neatly up, a process which because of the size of the tent was better done with three rather than two people. But before this could be accomplished the four screws at the corners had to be unscrewed. When the tent was neatly folded and properly bound, it was hauled to another location with other tents to be picked up by a truck and stored in the trailer of an old truck that was now used for storage. Repeat process.
In the meantime, here is a desciption of one of the activities performed while at the retreat center. The 9-5 physical labor I engaged in there was a nice break from the mental torture I had been feeling for the previous months and it is a simplicity I find myself longing for now.
Taking down tents
One of my favorite things to do was to take down tents. The process required two, and preferably three, people. These were big canvass tents that were constructed for two people to live in comfortably, or at least as comfortably as one can live in a tent. The first thing you had to do was to inspect the tents to make sure that people were no longer living in them. Once this was verified, you had to empty the tent of its furniture, which usually consisted of two wooden bed frames, foam mattresses, wooden clothes racks and book shelves. The clothes racks and book shelves were stuffed under the platforms on which the tents were situated, to be pulled out the following spring. The mattresses and frames were carried off to a separate location to be stored for pick up later. Once this preliminary work was done, one person on the crew used a drill to unscrew the tent from the various places were it was screwed into the platform, making sure to leave it screwed in, however, in one place at each of the four corners. Next (or actually usually at the same time) another person on the crew went into the tent and untied the ties that bound the tent to the metal poles on the inside. Also, this person had to make sure the flaps over the windows were rolled down. At this point, the deconstruction of the tent could begin. Two people went inside the tent and first each person kicked a metal pole at the front of the ten from where it had been wedged as part of the frame. As that collapsed from each side, the person holding the pole pulled (or usually kicked) the pole into sections and tossed the sections outside the tent. Next, each person did the same with the framing at the back of the tent. Finally it was time to take down the center frame which was high above the head. The two people had to agree which way to kick the pole. Then as it fell each person had to untie the tent from where it had been tied to the center pole. At this point, the tent would be collapsing upon itself, so it was usually up to the person in the back of the tent to work his way through the falling tent while the person at the front held part of the tent open for him to escape. Once they were both out, the metal poles would then be stuffed under the wooden platform, to be utilized the following spring. At this point, the tent was completely collapsed onto the frame and had to be folded neatly up, a process which because of the size of the tent was better done with three rather than two people. But before this could be accomplished the four screws at the corners had to be unscrewed. When the tent was neatly folded and properly bound, it was hauled to another location with other tents to be picked up by a truck and stored in the trailer of an old truck that was now used for storage. Repeat process.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
The Things I Carried
My 2003 Chevy Cavelier is loaded to the brim. Tomorrow morning I will finally leave Ogden, perhaps never to return. Since there is only so much space in the car, decisions had to be made about what to bring. It is interesting to note what made it and what didn't. I should say that I leave behind a lot of furniture, including a bed, a roll away bed that doubled as couch, a couch and a lazy boy, a dresser, a television/dvd player. I shipped down two boxes of books but donated most of my books to the library. The trunk of my car is mostly filled with camping gear: two sleeping bags, a tent, a couple of large backpacks. The back seat mostly contains clothes, including a whole bag of winter gear I would use for outdoor sports and another bag containing mostly coats. There is also a box of miscellaneous camping gear sitting on the back seat. Stuffed back there as well is a comforter which for some reason I seem unwilling to part with, perhaps because it was originally a couple of hundred dollars and I got in on sale for fifty. The passenger side front seat is mostly filled with electronic gear including a laptop computer and a desk compute, a Bose radio, and a printer. Slid on top of that is a classical guitar. I have a lot of books covering the floor of the car and stuffed under the seats. I kept a painting that a friend gave me back in my graduate school days in Seattle. The snow shoes made it in but for obvious reasons the cross country skis did not. The last thing I had left was a box of all my lecture notes and one box containing all my academic materials including dossiers, tenure documents, etc. My original plan was to go up into the mountains and build a bonfire and burn them. But time got too short, so then I was just going to dump them. But it was too much material to load into a friend's dumpsters and store dumpsters were either locked or hard to get to. So I just drove to my university and left them outside of my old building.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Where things stand
The Peace Corps assignment has been moved until December. In addition, the assignment has been somewhat altered. Now it seems the group going in May will do teacher training, the group going in December will be doing more administrative tasks, which is fine with me actually. Also, since we would be doing administrative stuff primarily there would be no training period, which again works fine with me. So this means a six month stint in Indonesia beginning in December, although this could change the next minute.
Nevertheless, I will be leaving Ogden Thursday or Friday. Right now I am picking through my storage shed and trying to fit as much as possible in my car. I've already shipped two boxes of books down.
Last night some friends had a final get together, a wake as someone called it. This is what is the hardest thing about leaving, giving up these friends, harder than soon not having health insurance. One of them presented me with a limerick:
Three cheers for our great friend Vernezze
Admiring him always is easy
His thoughts are insightful
His intellect, frightful
But now that he's leaving we're queasy
Nevertheless, I will be leaving Ogden Thursday or Friday. Right now I am picking through my storage shed and trying to fit as much as possible in my car. I've already shipped two boxes of books down.
Last night some friends had a final get together, a wake as someone called it. This is what is the hardest thing about leaving, giving up these friends, harder than soon not having health insurance. One of them presented me with a limerick:
Three cheers for our great friend Vernezze
Admiring him always is easy
His thoughts are insightful
His intellect, frightful
But now that he's leaving we're queasy
Monday, September 21, 2009
Eastern Sun
Back from a week at the Shambhala Mountain Center. I guess you would call it a volunteer vacation, the best kind really, where you feel you are being of use and getting some needed re-creation. It was good to work out of doors in the mountains every day, taking down tents and moving supplies. And that was really all I thought I was going to get out of it, and that would have been enough. But it seems I was sent there for other reasons. (And I truly do have the sense of being sent there. For in fact because of the Peace Corps medical clearance I had written the Shambhala Center and told them I would be unable to come. But a week or so ago I received a call from someone up there wondering why I wasn't there, and when I told them I had this Peace Corps thing and could not make my three week commitment, they said I could still come up for part of it. Now, it seems the person calling did not receive my original email. But if she had not called me one day while I was working on my netbook at Burger King, I never would have gone up there. So I do feel there was something calling me there, something that caused me to make the plan in the first place and that would not so easily let me abandon it.)
And that other reason was to get me to reconnect me to something that I think will be very important on this journey, and this is Buddhism.
Buddhism is fundamentally about waking up (the Buddha, recall, is the awakened one) to a realization of the nature of reality, which is impermanence and groundlessness, and then learning how to live one’s life in full recognition of this fact. That is, we think things are solid, permanent and that everything will remain as it is and then we are surprised when something major happens: a lover leaves, a parent dies, an illness strikes us. Buddhism is about getting us to live joyfully with the recognition of impermanence and to embrace it so that we can be more fully alive. The last thing Buddhism is about is renunciation of the world.
So what does all this have to do with my leaving my job? Well, nothing can make you realize the nature of impermanence and groundless more quickly, I think, then a move like this one. I mean, these were teachings I have known and even taught. But right now, they really begin to mean something. And I found myself drawn back to them. Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche is the founder of the Shambhala Tradition in the West and of the Shambhala Mountain Center. One of his students, Pema Chodron, is probably the most widely read Buddhst today. In an article of the recent issue of the Shambhala Sun magazine, Pema Chodron talks about her current teacher who had declared that in America it seemed that Buddhist teachings were just a pastime for students, something to dabble in or use for relaxation, but when their lives fell apart, the teachings and practices became as essential as food and medicine.
While at SMC, I reread one of Trungpa Rinpoche’s book, Shambhala: The Sacred Path of the Warrior. In it he distinguishes between the Eastern sun and the setting sun. The Eastern sun is the spirit of life. It is the spirit of being open to life and alive to the present moment. It is the spirit of hope and optimism. He contrasts this to the spirit of the Western, setting sun. This is the spirit of fear, the spirit of death. I will quote “When we follow the path of the setting sun we enclose ourselves in a world in which we can hide or go to sleep. ..It is as though we wish to re-enter our mother’s womb and avoid being born…When we are afraid of waking up and afraid of experiencing our own fear, we build a cocoon we guild ourselves a cocoon in order to shield ourselves from the vision of the eastern sun. We prefer to hide in our personal jungles and caves. When we hide from the world in this way, we feel secure. We may think we have quieted our fear but we are actually becoming numb with our fear. ..The way of cowardice is to embed ourselves in this cocoon, in which we perpetuate our habitual patterns. When we are constantly recreating our basic patterns of behavior and thought, we never have to leap onto fresh air or fresh ground. In the cocoon there is no dance…it is comfortable and sleepy: an intense and very familiar home. In the world of the cocoon, such things as spring cleaning have never taken place. We feel that it is too much work, too much trouble, to clean it up. We would prefer to go back to sleep.”
What I can say is that I went up to the SMC in the spirit of the Western setting sun and left imbued, however slightly, with the spirit of the Eastern sun.
And that other reason was to get me to reconnect me to something that I think will be very important on this journey, and this is Buddhism.
Buddhism is fundamentally about waking up (the Buddha, recall, is the awakened one) to a realization of the nature of reality, which is impermanence and groundlessness, and then learning how to live one’s life in full recognition of this fact. That is, we think things are solid, permanent and that everything will remain as it is and then we are surprised when something major happens: a lover leaves, a parent dies, an illness strikes us. Buddhism is about getting us to live joyfully with the recognition of impermanence and to embrace it so that we can be more fully alive. The last thing Buddhism is about is renunciation of the world.
So what does all this have to do with my leaving my job? Well, nothing can make you realize the nature of impermanence and groundless more quickly, I think, then a move like this one. I mean, these were teachings I have known and even taught. But right now, they really begin to mean something. And I found myself drawn back to them. Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche is the founder of the Shambhala Tradition in the West and of the Shambhala Mountain Center. One of his students, Pema Chodron, is probably the most widely read Buddhst today. In an article of the recent issue of the Shambhala Sun magazine, Pema Chodron talks about her current teacher who had declared that in America it seemed that Buddhist teachings were just a pastime for students, something to dabble in or use for relaxation, but when their lives fell apart, the teachings and practices became as essential as food and medicine.
While at SMC, I reread one of Trungpa Rinpoche’s book, Shambhala: The Sacred Path of the Warrior. In it he distinguishes between the Eastern sun and the setting sun. The Eastern sun is the spirit of life. It is the spirit of being open to life and alive to the present moment. It is the spirit of hope and optimism. He contrasts this to the spirit of the Western, setting sun. This is the spirit of fear, the spirit of death. I will quote “When we follow the path of the setting sun we enclose ourselves in a world in which we can hide or go to sleep. ..It is as though we wish to re-enter our mother’s womb and avoid being born…When we are afraid of waking up and afraid of experiencing our own fear, we build a cocoon we guild ourselves a cocoon in order to shield ourselves from the vision of the eastern sun. We prefer to hide in our personal jungles and caves. When we hide from the world in this way, we feel secure. We may think we have quieted our fear but we are actually becoming numb with our fear. ..The way of cowardice is to embed ourselves in this cocoon, in which we perpetuate our habitual patterns. When we are constantly recreating our basic patterns of behavior and thought, we never have to leap onto fresh air or fresh ground. In the cocoon there is no dance…it is comfortable and sleepy: an intense and very familiar home. In the world of the cocoon, such things as spring cleaning have never taken place. We feel that it is too much work, too much trouble, to clean it up. We would prefer to go back to sleep.”
What I can say is that I went up to the SMC in the spirit of the Western setting sun and left imbued, however slightly, with the spirit of the Eastern sun.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Incommunicado
Off for a week to the Shambhala Mountain Center, a Buddhist retreat cener in Red Feathers Lake Colorado. I will be a volunteer at what is known as "take down" in which they take down the facilities they've constructed for their summer programs. In exhange for your labor you get free housing (albiet modest), free food, and a good deal of mediation thrown in. Throw in the fact that there is not cell phone coverage or internet connection available and it's as close to heaven (or should I say Nirvana) as you can get. But this means you won't hear from me for a week.
Friday, September 11, 2009
The task that lies ahead
It looks like after a couple of weeks of delay I will finally be able to get out of here for a week to the Shambhala Mountain Center. The plan, recall, was to be there for three weeks, and it was a pretty good plan, I think. But circumstances intervened. Not everything is complete at this time. There are a couple of more vaccines and one more medical test to do for Peace Corps clearance. But the process is mostly finished. Same with the book, the other thing that delayed me here. I did the work I needed to do on that and probably could have done more but shipped off a final version of the manuscript to the editor and now it is time for a break. Both these matters--Peace Corps and the book--are out of my hands now. That is, the Peace Corps program has not been finally approved by the Indonesian government, though I've been told its ninety percent certain it will go. Because it starts so soon, they have had us do the medical clearance before the program is formally approved, which is unusual. And I won't know whether the book will get accepted until October. So all in all, it's a good time for a break. Maybe there I can get some clarity on the situation. In any case, it will be good to be away from distractions for a week. Not even bringing my internet up there, nor cell phone, wouldn't matter because there is no reception.
The focus on these two matters--the Peace Corps and the book--have kept my mind off of the larger picture of what the hell I am going to do with my life. It is only now with the Peace Corps paper work and the manuscript behind me that the question begins to re-emerge, and at least for tonight I am not ready to deal with it. I've been searching for a quote I remembe and wrote down once from Jude the Obscure, and it is not a happy quote so maybe it is a good thing I can't find it. The gist of the quote was the author commenting on how it was theoretically possible for the protagonist, who has suffered a series of defeats, to make a comeback, even though he is no longer young. But while there is nothing theoretically to stand in his way and it is logically possible for him to achieve an even higher state than the one he had fallen from, the fact is, life saps our energies and what is theoretically possible becomes in practice unrealizable. The novel does not end well. I will find the quote and post it, because it is quite well worded and a warning to keep in mind about not underestimating the task that lies ahead
The focus on these two matters--the Peace Corps and the book--have kept my mind off of the larger picture of what the hell I am going to do with my life. It is only now with the Peace Corps paper work and the manuscript behind me that the question begins to re-emerge, and at least for tonight I am not ready to deal with it. I've been searching for a quote I remembe and wrote down once from Jude the Obscure, and it is not a happy quote so maybe it is a good thing I can't find it. The gist of the quote was the author commenting on how it was theoretically possible for the protagonist, who has suffered a series of defeats, to make a comeback, even though he is no longer young. But while there is nothing theoretically to stand in his way and it is logically possible for him to achieve an even higher state than the one he had fallen from, the fact is, life saps our energies and what is theoretically possible becomes in practice unrealizable. The novel does not end well. I will find the quote and post it, because it is quite well worded and a warning to keep in mind about not underestimating the task that lies ahead
Thursday, September 10, 2009
comic relief
This is appropos of nothing related to my current journey, except I was watching Obama's speech last night with particular interest because I now have a vested interest in how this health care things turn out. Anyway, I see to be the only one taking not of the similarity between Congressman Asshole shouting out "you lie" to the president and the fan at one of Dylan's early electric shows shouting out "Judas" to Bob. If you haven't seen the Bob clip, watch it. I wished Obama had pulled the Dylan response out, but he did alright nonetheless
Joe Wilson tell Obama "You Lie"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TyTelRaoBAI
Unnamed fan calling Bob Dylan "Judas"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u2MgdF6GWi0
Joe Wilson tell Obama "You Lie"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TyTelRaoBAI
Unnamed fan calling Bob Dylan "Judas"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u2MgdF6GWi0
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Random Thoughts
1. Do you remember in Thelma and Louise when for some unknown reason Thelma (or was it Louise) would not drive through Texas and so they had to take a big detour? Well, I am like that now with my university. I will drive miles out of my way not to have to drive down the street that it is on.
2. But yet I am stuck here busy getting things done for the Peace Corps November 1st departure. Today, for example, went to doctor to get flu, tetanus and typhoid vaccination, but since they didn't have typhoid had to go the Health Department, which requires a separate appointment. Also had to make an appointment to another doctor to get an exam for something that was noted on my physical which I left the Peace Corps, which was just intended as a suggestion to have something looked at for cosmetic reasons but now that it is on there I need to get it checked out. So that's just a little hint of what it's like when you apply to the Peace Corps, in case that is what anyone is thinking of doing. I've been told they make the application process especially tedious to see how serious you are. It was actually a lot worse for my initial assignment.
3. Some friends want to have a get together before I go. I am very ambivalent about the whole idea. I've always like the way the Jerry Orbach character left Law and Order. He doesn't tell anyone he's retiring and one day just takes a box of goods from his desk and walks out. No party, no golden watch. Reminded me of the last stanza one of my favorite poems, Solitude by Alexander Pope"Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;Thus unlamented let me die;Steal from the world, and not a stoneTell where I lie"
4. I did sign up for a marathon today. The Denver Marathon October 18th. Actually a couple weeks before that I will hike the Grand Canyon rim to rim in a day with a few friends as sort of a last preparation for the marathon. This is not as crazy as it sounds (well, maybe it is) since we did it last year. And there are people who do rim to rim to rim in a day. Now those are the real crazies.
5. Watched Obama's speech about health care tonight. I hope he pulls it off. This is no longer a theoretical discussion for me. The outcome of this debate will have a real impact on my life. Like watching a story the night before on the Newshour about people looking for jobs. When I had a job for life, it was like Lucretius says in De Rerum Natura, that there is nothing sweeter than being on dry land watching a shipwreck, or something like that. Now, I can't even watch a story about how bad the employment picture is.
2. But yet I am stuck here busy getting things done for the Peace Corps November 1st departure. Today, for example, went to doctor to get flu, tetanus and typhoid vaccination, but since they didn't have typhoid had to go the Health Department, which requires a separate appointment. Also had to make an appointment to another doctor to get an exam for something that was noted on my physical which I left the Peace Corps, which was just intended as a suggestion to have something looked at for cosmetic reasons but now that it is on there I need to get it checked out. So that's just a little hint of what it's like when you apply to the Peace Corps, in case that is what anyone is thinking of doing. I've been told they make the application process especially tedious to see how serious you are. It was actually a lot worse for my initial assignment.
3. Some friends want to have a get together before I go. I am very ambivalent about the whole idea. I've always like the way the Jerry Orbach character left Law and Order. He doesn't tell anyone he's retiring and one day just takes a box of goods from his desk and walks out. No party, no golden watch. Reminded me of the last stanza one of my favorite poems, Solitude by Alexander Pope"Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;Thus unlamented let me die;Steal from the world, and not a stoneTell where I lie"
4. I did sign up for a marathon today. The Denver Marathon October 18th. Actually a couple weeks before that I will hike the Grand Canyon rim to rim in a day with a few friends as sort of a last preparation for the marathon. This is not as crazy as it sounds (well, maybe it is) since we did it last year. And there are people who do rim to rim to rim in a day. Now those are the real crazies.
5. Watched Obama's speech about health care tonight. I hope he pulls it off. This is no longer a theoretical discussion for me. The outcome of this debate will have a real impact on my life. Like watching a story the night before on the Newshour about people looking for jobs. When I had a job for life, it was like Lucretius says in De Rerum Natura, that there is nothing sweeter than being on dry land watching a shipwreck, or something like that. Now, I can't even watch a story about how bad the employment picture is.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Professor in the Peace Corps
This is a copy of an article I wrote for the Chronicle of Higher Education when I origianlly joined the Peace Corps. I am thinking of doing another one as a follow up:
Professor in the Peace Corps
By Peter J. Vernezze
First Person
Personal experiences on the job market
Halfway through my academic journey, I lost my way. At least I think it was halfway through; by that point, I had quit keeping track.
I had been at my college for about 15 years, reaching the rank of associate professor of philosophy. I figured I had roughly the same number of years left until retirement. At some point, I can't say exactly when, the wheels started to come off.
To be sure, there were a few personal events that contributed to the situation, but I won't get into those details here. The simple fact was that after a decade and a half I had become bored with my job.
Part of the problem, no doubt, was a function of my institution -- a teaching-focused university with no philosophy major. That meant I invariably taught a heavy load of lower-division courses, repeating the same few every year. Perhaps if I had been given a reasonably varied teaching schedule, worked with philosophy majors, or taught more upper-division courses, things might have been different. Perhaps not.
Because, in truth, I have never been very comfortable with teaching. A natural introvert, I am much more at home in the library than in the lecture hall and find the classroom more exhausting than rewarding.
My issues with teaching might have resolved themselves if I had been able to immerse myself in research. But a heavy course load leaves little time for writing articles and books. And the truth of the matter is that I have faint interest in combing over voluminous amounts of secondary material and familiarizing myself with the minutiae of interpretative strategy, both of which are necessary to get published in my profession.
Actually, what troubles me is not the research itself but the type of writing you have to produce to flourish in academe. Regardless of the discipline, the process involved in writing an article for a refereed journal is the same: You carve out some position of your own while duly reporting and refuting all previous views. So in my attempts to come up with something quasi-original to say, I invariably wound up dealing not with the great thinkers I loved but with what successions of scholars have had to say about those thinkers in obscure footnote-laden articles of interest to no more than a handful of people.
I soon realized I possessed neither the desire nor the ability to excel at that undertaking, although I did enough to get tenure. (Should I have realized all of this before pursuing a job in academe? All I can say in my defense is that my thinking on this issue has evolved since receiving my doctorate.)
Given those conditions, it is amazing that things went on as long as they did. But the life of a tenured college professor is a good gig, and I wasn't ready to give it up. Still, I couldn't continue, either.
My options at that point seemed limited. One possibility was to try for a job at another university. But with an undistinguished publication record, that was not likely to happen. Besides, my suspicion was that if I was bored teaching at one university, I would be bored teaching at another.
That meant a career change might be in order. But it was getting rather late in the game to be contemplating such a drastic move, which would probably require going back to school and starting over again at a time when most of my colleagues would have one eye on retirement. I doubted whether I had the energy for such an undertaking.
Even now, I am not sure when the idea of the Peace Corps entered into the equation. Of course I knew about the organization and had actually looked into applying at one point in my distant past. And when the idea arose in my mind again, I did not see how joining that organization would resolve anything. If I was unemployable outside of my tenured position, giving it up to spend two years overseas would just exacerbate things, leaving me to start from scratch even later in life.
Nonetheless, I went ahead and filled out the application, which was available online, and thought no more about it until I received a message from a recruiter asking to set up an interview. I still don't think I saw the Peace Corps as a viable option even after I received word that my application had been accepted.
But when the call came to start discussing possible overseas assignments, it was clearly time to contemplate what my life would be like if I actually went through with this.
The image that came to mind was Wile E. Coyote going over a cliff in mad pursuit of the elusive roadrunner, holding up a "help" sign in a last-minute act of desperation. In short, I would be abandoning everything I had spent half my life working toward in order to take up a two-year volunteer position from which I would return unemployed and almost certainly unemployable.
It was completely irrational, and wasn't I a philosopher, devoted to reason? Well, I wasn't a very good philosopher, so maybe I wasn't that rational.
But I still had enough of my reasoning faculty left to realize that there was an alternative between remaining desperately where I was and throwing everything away: I could petition the university for a two-year leave of absence. It seemed like a half-measure, or perhaps it was the middle way. In any case, it was a long shot. But it was worth a try.
Emphasizing my 15 years of service to the university and the reputation of the Peace Corps, I pitched the idea to my shocked but somewhat sympathetic department head.
In the meantime, I discussed possible postings with my Peace Corps recruiter. Although you don't get to choose which country you will work in, you can request a geographical location -- Central Asia, the Caribbean, East Africa, for example -- that coordinates with a particular job. You then make a list of your top three assignments and the Peace Corps tries to offer you one of them.
Given that it was weariness with teaching that started the whole process, there was more than a little irony in my ultimately being offered an assignment teaching English in China. But what the hell, I thought. My real desire was to be of use somewhere, and if that was where the Peace Corps thought I would be of most use, that is where I would go.
Like the servant in the story who sees death in a marketplace in Bagdad and flees to Samara, only to learn that death had, in fact, been scheduled to meet him in Samara, perhaps there was no way to avoid this teaching thing.
My leave was approved. Last July I began 10 weeks of training with the Peace Corps, and in September I was assigned to Sichuan Normal University in Chengdu. So, after nearly a year in China, how are things going?"
I needed to walk a different path than the one I had been walking for the past 15 years, which had become a rut. Volunteering for the Peace Corps has allowed me to do that. Yes, I am still in the classroom, but teaching Chinese students to speak English is such a different activity from teaching philosophy as to almost qualify as another line of work. Lectures are out, as are any discussions that rely on words of more than two syllables; games and group work are in.
Everything else -- from immersing myself in a completely foreign culture where even a trip to the grocery store is an adventure to being forced to exist on a volunteer's stipend -- is an attempt to make it clear to me that I am not in Kansas (or rather, Utah) anymore living the comfortable and familiar life of an academic.
Most of all, I have tried to quiet my mind. I don't know how to explain that except to say that the philosophical mind is a busy, analytic one and that, as a result, I have tried to avoid all activities that remotely resemble logical analysis. In doing so, it strikes me that I am trying to bring my being back into balance and that Chinese culture is particularly suited to that sort of activity.
I am not sure what will happen when these two years are up. Situations don't magically resolve themselves, and there is no reason to think the same issues that troubled me before won't reappear when I return.
But sometimes you need to get some distance on an issue in order to see it more clearly. I hope that is what is going on here. In any case, I tell myself there have been two-year stints of my academic career that I cannot now even vaguely recall. I'm pretty sure this won't be one of those.
Professor in the Peace Corps
By Peter J. Vernezze
First Person
Personal experiences on the job market
Halfway through my academic journey, I lost my way. At least I think it was halfway through; by that point, I had quit keeping track.
I had been at my college for about 15 years, reaching the rank of associate professor of philosophy. I figured I had roughly the same number of years left until retirement. At some point, I can't say exactly when, the wheels started to come off.
To be sure, there were a few personal events that contributed to the situation, but I won't get into those details here. The simple fact was that after a decade and a half I had become bored with my job.
Part of the problem, no doubt, was a function of my institution -- a teaching-focused university with no philosophy major. That meant I invariably taught a heavy load of lower-division courses, repeating the same few every year. Perhaps if I had been given a reasonably varied teaching schedule, worked with philosophy majors, or taught more upper-division courses, things might have been different. Perhaps not.
Because, in truth, I have never been very comfortable with teaching. A natural introvert, I am much more at home in the library than in the lecture hall and find the classroom more exhausting than rewarding.
My issues with teaching might have resolved themselves if I had been able to immerse myself in research. But a heavy course load leaves little time for writing articles and books. And the truth of the matter is that I have faint interest in combing over voluminous amounts of secondary material and familiarizing myself with the minutiae of interpretative strategy, both of which are necessary to get published in my profession.
Actually, what troubles me is not the research itself but the type of writing you have to produce to flourish in academe. Regardless of the discipline, the process involved in writing an article for a refereed journal is the same: You carve out some position of your own while duly reporting and refuting all previous views. So in my attempts to come up with something quasi-original to say, I invariably wound up dealing not with the great thinkers I loved but with what successions of scholars have had to say about those thinkers in obscure footnote-laden articles of interest to no more than a handful of people.
I soon realized I possessed neither the desire nor the ability to excel at that undertaking, although I did enough to get tenure. (Should I have realized all of this before pursuing a job in academe? All I can say in my defense is that my thinking on this issue has evolved since receiving my doctorate.)
Given those conditions, it is amazing that things went on as long as they did. But the life of a tenured college professor is a good gig, and I wasn't ready to give it up. Still, I couldn't continue, either.
My options at that point seemed limited. One possibility was to try for a job at another university. But with an undistinguished publication record, that was not likely to happen. Besides, my suspicion was that if I was bored teaching at one university, I would be bored teaching at another.
That meant a career change might be in order. But it was getting rather late in the game to be contemplating such a drastic move, which would probably require going back to school and starting over again at a time when most of my colleagues would have one eye on retirement. I doubted whether I had the energy for such an undertaking.
Even now, I am not sure when the idea of the Peace Corps entered into the equation. Of course I knew about the organization and had actually looked into applying at one point in my distant past. And when the idea arose in my mind again, I did not see how joining that organization would resolve anything. If I was unemployable outside of my tenured position, giving it up to spend two years overseas would just exacerbate things, leaving me to start from scratch even later in life.
Nonetheless, I went ahead and filled out the application, which was available online, and thought no more about it until I received a message from a recruiter asking to set up an interview. I still don't think I saw the Peace Corps as a viable option even after I received word that my application had been accepted.
But when the call came to start discussing possible overseas assignments, it was clearly time to contemplate what my life would be like if I actually went through with this.
The image that came to mind was Wile E. Coyote going over a cliff in mad pursuit of the elusive roadrunner, holding up a "help" sign in a last-minute act of desperation. In short, I would be abandoning everything I had spent half my life working toward in order to take up a two-year volunteer position from which I would return unemployed and almost certainly unemployable.
It was completely irrational, and wasn't I a philosopher, devoted to reason? Well, I wasn't a very good philosopher, so maybe I wasn't that rational.
But I still had enough of my reasoning faculty left to realize that there was an alternative between remaining desperately where I was and throwing everything away: I could petition the university for a two-year leave of absence. It seemed like a half-measure, or perhaps it was the middle way. In any case, it was a long shot. But it was worth a try.
Emphasizing my 15 years of service to the university and the reputation of the Peace Corps, I pitched the idea to my shocked but somewhat sympathetic department head.
In the meantime, I discussed possible postings with my Peace Corps recruiter. Although you don't get to choose which country you will work in, you can request a geographical location -- Central Asia, the Caribbean, East Africa, for example -- that coordinates with a particular job. You then make a list of your top three assignments and the Peace Corps tries to offer you one of them.
Given that it was weariness with teaching that started the whole process, there was more than a little irony in my ultimately being offered an assignment teaching English in China. But what the hell, I thought. My real desire was to be of use somewhere, and if that was where the Peace Corps thought I would be of most use, that is where I would go.
Like the servant in the story who sees death in a marketplace in Bagdad and flees to Samara, only to learn that death had, in fact, been scheduled to meet him in Samara, perhaps there was no way to avoid this teaching thing.
My leave was approved. Last July I began 10 weeks of training with the Peace Corps, and in September I was assigned to Sichuan Normal University in Chengdu. So, after nearly a year in China, how are things going?"
I needed to walk a different path than the one I had been walking for the past 15 years, which had become a rut. Volunteering for the Peace Corps has allowed me to do that. Yes, I am still in the classroom, but teaching Chinese students to speak English is such a different activity from teaching philosophy as to almost qualify as another line of work. Lectures are out, as are any discussions that rely on words of more than two syllables; games and group work are in.
Everything else -- from immersing myself in a completely foreign culture where even a trip to the grocery store is an adventure to being forced to exist on a volunteer's stipend -- is an attempt to make it clear to me that I am not in Kansas (or rather, Utah) anymore living the comfortable and familiar life of an academic.
Most of all, I have tried to quiet my mind. I don't know how to explain that except to say that the philosophical mind is a busy, analytic one and that, as a result, I have tried to avoid all activities that remotely resemble logical analysis. In doing so, it strikes me that I am trying to bring my being back into balance and that Chinese culture is particularly suited to that sort of activity.
I am not sure what will happen when these two years are up. Situations don't magically resolve themselves, and there is no reason to think the same issues that troubled me before won't reappear when I return.
But sometimes you need to get some distance on an issue in order to see it more clearly. I hope that is what is going on here. In any case, I tell myself there have been two-year stints of my academic career that I cannot now even vaguely recall. I'm pretty sure this won't be one of those.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Experiment
Two names you don't often hear together: Thoreau and Porter. Yes, that's Henry David Thoreau and Cole Porter. If there are two Americans who could be more different, I can't think of them. Yet for some reason I found myself thinking of these two texts and tracking them down. This is in fact is how I see this move on my part. It's an experiment. And like a real experiment, I don't know how this thing is going to turn out. And as with any experiment one must recognize the possibility of failure. Thoreau gives hope that if you experiment sincerely with your life--i.e., advance confidently in the direction of your dreams--that success is assured, and that may be true, although success may be defined very differently than you originally had planned. We'll see.
"I learned this, at least, by my experiment; that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpeced in common hours. He will put some things behind, will pass an invisible boundary; new, universal, and more liberal laws will begin to establish themselves around and within him;or the old laws be expanded, and interpreted in his favor in a more liberal sense, and he will live with the license of a higher order of beings. In proportion as he simplifies his life, the laws of the universe will appear less complex, and solitude will not be solitude,nor poverty poverty, nor weakness weakness. If you have build castles in the aire, your work need to be lost; that is where they should be. Not put the foundations under them" Thoreau, Walden
EXPERIMENT BY COLE PORTER
Verse
Before you leave these portals/To meet less fortunate mortals,/There's just one final messageI would give to you.
You all have learned reliance/On the sacred teachings of science,/So I hope, through life, you never will decline
In spite of philistine
Defiance/To do what all good scientists do.
Refrain
Experiment.Make it your motto day and night.
ExperimentAnd it will lead you to the light.
The apple on the top of the tree/Is never too high to achieve,
So take an example from Eve,
Experiment.
Be curious,
Though interfering friends may frown.
Get furious
At each attempt to hold you down.
If this advice you always employ
The future can offer you infinite joy
And merriment,
Experiment
And you'll see
"I learned this, at least, by my experiment; that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpeced in common hours. He will put some things behind, will pass an invisible boundary; new, universal, and more liberal laws will begin to establish themselves around and within him;or the old laws be expanded, and interpreted in his favor in a more liberal sense, and he will live with the license of a higher order of beings. In proportion as he simplifies his life, the laws of the universe will appear less complex, and solitude will not be solitude,nor poverty poverty, nor weakness weakness. If you have build castles in the aire, your work need to be lost; that is where they should be. Not put the foundations under them" Thoreau, Walden
EXPERIMENT BY COLE PORTER
Verse
Before you leave these portals/To meet less fortunate mortals,/There's just one final messageI would give to you.
You all have learned reliance/On the sacred teachings of science,/So I hope, through life, you never will decline
In spite of philistine
Defiance/To do what all good scientists do.
Refrain
Experiment.Make it your motto day and night.
ExperimentAnd it will lead you to the light.
The apple on the top of the tree/Is never too high to achieve,
So take an example from Eve,
Experiment.
Be curious,
Though interfering friends may frown.
Get furious
At each attempt to hold you down.
If this advice you always employ
The future can offer you infinite joy
And merriment,
Experiment
And you'll see
Thursday, September 3, 2009
More (hopefully the last) on Teaching
I know I should shut up about it, but I can't seem to help myself. I read this line on the website leaving academia. I think it was originally in a movie, but can't be sure. In any case, someone described academic life as being like 7/11 in that we're always open. I'm not sure exactly how they meant it, but I know how I took it. Nietzsche says somewhere that a good teacher must view reality through the student, literally live for the student. That is, he or she recgonizes that any moment might be presented in the classroom for a pedagogical purpose and is always open to that possibility. I know for myself I felt this most accutely whenever I was reading any editorial in The New York Times or a critical essay in The New Republic. I would immediately think, is this something I could present to my class and would view it as a possible pedagogical exercise. His point, and mine, is that being a good teacher is an art like any othe art. And if that is your art, you need to devote yourself fully to it. That is, bring all of your talents and energy to it and then it can be fulfiiling. But realize you will have nothing left for yourself. If it is difficult, then like all difficult thigns it is also rare. I have known maybe one person who hits this mark. But that's about right. How many true artists can there be? I remember hearing, I think it was Robert Frost, on being informed that there were five hundred poets on the payroll of the U.S. government during the depression, replying that there haven't been five hundred poets in history. O.K. I'll be quiet now.
But how do you really feel about teaching?
I admit I have not found a lot of symptathy with my Lin quote in academia. But I wouldn't expect love poetry to fare well at a monastary either. Or perhaps the more apt comparison is reading the works of some atheist, say, David Hume, at a church. For I recognize what the quote implies is blasphemny, that the whole entrprise of advanced education as it currently stands is misguided. Be that as it may, I am standing by it.
I was going to try this experiment my last year, because I would sure it would get me kicked out. But it might have been worth it. Say to your class on the first day. You never have to show up and you will get an "A." Give them the final and your answers and your word and even a signed statement that this is the case and they will get an "A." If they are there for the knowledge, then it should not affect their attendance at all. But seriously, how many students would show up? Especially, say, after the first time you did it and word got around that you really did give "A"s to people who did not show up. I'm not saying none of them would, but you could probably hold your largest lecture class in your office.
I mean, when you are teaching something you are passionate about to people who could care less about it (or is it "could not care less") well, it wears away at your soul. Or it wore away at my soul. It's like making love to a corpse. I mean, if you like that sort of thing, fine. The whole enterprise strikes me as unnatural.
But I'm willing to take part of the blame. I will speak only for myself but I think many academics are not exactly constitutionally fit to teach. That is,we go into our discipline because we love are subject matter. But loving your subject matter and enjoying teaching (much less being good at it) are two different things. But in fact I wouldn't even say I am constitutionally unfit to teach. But I am unfit to do the sort of teaching we mostly do, or at least mostly do at a public university (though my evidence suggests things are not that different at more elite universities). The sort of teaching I think I can do is of the the only person who should be taught a subject (once a basic level of education has been achieved in a population), namely, those who really want to learn. Otherwise, the whole enterprise is wasted. There's a line in Buddhism about how one should be as desirous of hearing the teachings of the Buddha as a man who's head is on fire for a bucket of water. Now, you may say, well, that's easy teaching those sorts of students, except it really isn't, no more so than it is easy teaching an aspiring violinist or even an aspiring car mechanic because you need to have yourself accumulated a good amount of knowledge and skill and then be able to convey it. But mostly we're like piano teachers instructing reluctant children whose parents have visions of them in concert halls while they want to be outside playing.
You might ask, if you feel this way, why didn't you leave a while ago, and the truth is I should have left much sooner. But you know, you devote a good amount of your time and energy to studying and getting this Ph.D.,which has essentially made you unfit for any other employment. And then you find to make a living you have to do this thing which you are not exactly crazy about and have some real doubts about. But if you do it, you get to do this other stuff you like and overall have a pretty good life.Well, it seems like a good bargain, especially when they throw in tenure. But it is a Faustian bargain, I do believe.
That's all I'm going to say. Reading it over it doesn't strike me as cynical but true. At least by definition it cannot be sour grapes. But it is negative energy and there's no use and much harm, I think, in dwelling on it. It's a realm I've left and have no intention of returning to. Whereof one cannot speak--or at least not speak anythig positive--one should be silent.
I was going to try this experiment my last year, because I would sure it would get me kicked out. But it might have been worth it. Say to your class on the first day. You never have to show up and you will get an "A." Give them the final and your answers and your word and even a signed statement that this is the case and they will get an "A." If they are there for the knowledge, then it should not affect their attendance at all. But seriously, how many students would show up? Especially, say, after the first time you did it and word got around that you really did give "A"s to people who did not show up. I'm not saying none of them would, but you could probably hold your largest lecture class in your office.
I mean, when you are teaching something you are passionate about to people who could care less about it (or is it "could not care less") well, it wears away at your soul. Or it wore away at my soul. It's like making love to a corpse. I mean, if you like that sort of thing, fine. The whole enterprise strikes me as unnatural.
But I'm willing to take part of the blame. I will speak only for myself but I think many academics are not exactly constitutionally fit to teach. That is,we go into our discipline because we love are subject matter. But loving your subject matter and enjoying teaching (much less being good at it) are two different things. But in fact I wouldn't even say I am constitutionally unfit to teach. But I am unfit to do the sort of teaching we mostly do, or at least mostly do at a public university (though my evidence suggests things are not that different at more elite universities). The sort of teaching I think I can do is of the the only person who should be taught a subject (once a basic level of education has been achieved in a population), namely, those who really want to learn. Otherwise, the whole enterprise is wasted. There's a line in Buddhism about how one should be as desirous of hearing the teachings of the Buddha as a man who's head is on fire for a bucket of water. Now, you may say, well, that's easy teaching those sorts of students, except it really isn't, no more so than it is easy teaching an aspiring violinist or even an aspiring car mechanic because you need to have yourself accumulated a good amount of knowledge and skill and then be able to convey it. But mostly we're like piano teachers instructing reluctant children whose parents have visions of them in concert halls while they want to be outside playing.
You might ask, if you feel this way, why didn't you leave a while ago, and the truth is I should have left much sooner. But you know, you devote a good amount of your time and energy to studying and getting this Ph.D.,which has essentially made you unfit for any other employment. And then you find to make a living you have to do this thing which you are not exactly crazy about and have some real doubts about. But if you do it, you get to do this other stuff you like and overall have a pretty good life.Well, it seems like a good bargain, especially when they throw in tenure. But it is a Faustian bargain, I do believe.
That's all I'm going to say. Reading it over it doesn't strike me as cynical but true. At least by definition it cannot be sour grapes. But it is negative energy and there's no use and much harm, I think, in dwelling on it. It's a realm I've left and have no intention of returning to. Whereof one cannot speak--or at least not speak anythig positive--one should be silent.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Ashamed in front of garbagemen
So far, I have not mentioned any of my complaints about academia, preferring to focus on the positive. But in working on this China book, I came across a quote from Lin YuTang that struck a chord and reminded me of one of the things I did not like about this gig. He was one of the main interpreters of China for Americans in the middle of the last century, and his book "My Country and My People" is still worth reading. But there is one passage in there that seems particularly relevant to the current situation. Lin writes, "any college examination must be of such a nature that students can prepare for it at a week's notice, or all of them will flunk, and any knowledgte that can be crammed into a week's notice can be forgotten in as short a period. There have not yet been devised any series of examinations which are cram-proof and student-proof, and the victims are only the professors who are led to believe that their sutdents have really understood their subjects." I am sorry if this sounds cyncial. All I will say in its defense is that Lin is a wise man, and you can deny the above statement all you want, but in truth I will take Lin's word over yours. So one of my complaints about the academic life is the essential worthlessness of what we do. Again, you vs. Lin and I will take Lin. You believe what you want or what you need to. Does anyone remember Father Guido Sarducci's five minute university? He will teach you in five minutes what the average college graduate remembers five years after graduating. Look, there's nothing wrong in finding an easy gig for yourself, but don't delude yourself into thinking this is anything other than an easy gig. I have some real doubts about whether this qualifies under the Buddhist heading of right livelihood. I mean, you're not selling arms, but neither are you contributing anything positive to humanity. How do I put this? You should be ashamed in front of garbagemen, who can at least boast some positive contribution to the state of thigns. O.K. Glad I got that out of my system.
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