Abstract: This is part two of a recounting of my earliest experience teaching. As a graduate student, my friend Felix and I, were recruited to T.A. for Dr. Samsara. After taking us to lunch we were driven head in to the deep end.
“Hey mother-fu$ker,” Felix screamed waving his arms and chasing the van down the driveway and into the street. “You forgot us!”
I chuckled for about three seconds and then I got mad.
“What the fu$k are we going to do now?” He mumbled as he came walking back to the vending machine kiosk.
This is a highway rest stop somewhere near Albany, New York. Three hours from our homes. Three hours from our cars. Three hours…
“What the hell did you do?” Mikey asked, laughing.
“We took a taxi to a bus station in Albany and road the bus back.” I grumbled.
“I bet that was expensive.” He laughed, “He got you good, man.”
I flashed Mikey one of those fake smiles that really means “FU$K YOU”.
Christine coated her lips with her tacky CVS lipstick and then snapped the tube shut, “Well that’s why I stay away from him. He’s just so out of it. I wonder why they even let him teach here. I mean how did you get to Albany anyway?”
Felix and I stood at the corner near the Women’s center. It was cold and dark.
6:10AM: Felix rubbed his hands together and whispered “Jesus”.
6:15AM: I sighed heavily and mumbled “Where the hell are you”.
6:20AM: A blue van pulls slowly down the street. Felix picks up his bag and we step closer to the curb. As the van approaches a short, chubby woman peers out the window at us, glaring as they she expects us to leap from the curb and molest her Dodge. She jams her foot on the gas just before reaching us and speeds off.
6:30AM: A blue van with two broken windows covered by black trash bags spins around the corner and screeches to a halt right in front of us. Dr. Samsara calls from inside, “Good morning! Are you ready for lunch?”
Felix laughs.
“Sure.” I say as I climb into the back seat.
After exchanging pleasantries, no one speaks for thirty minutes. Where the hell is this restaurant, I’m thinking to myself. We cross the border into Connecticut.
“So. Dr. Samsara, have been to this place before?”
“Oh yes,” he smiles. “Its very beautiful. So Sebastian, tell me why you wanted to come to grad school back east. Its such a long way from Wisconsin.”
“Missouri. I’m actually from Missouri,” I mumble. In a louder tone, “Well I really enjoy the field and I feel like politics is something that’s all around us, in our daily lives. I want to study that and I want to teach, because I think it’s a subject that can really enhance a person’s life.” I stop. That really didn’t sound right. How come I can never explain what I want to say?
“What’s your thesis going to be on?”
I have no idea. “Bureaucratic politics, in that kind of area.”
“Oh,” He nods his head. “What about you Felix?”
“Similar to what Sebastian said, I see a lot of potential to help people and give back to the community. I had a great opportunity to work in a Senate office as an intern and I realized there that this is what I want to do with my life.”
“That’s great. That’s really great.”
“How did you get into the field, Dr. Samsara?” I call from the backseat.
“I met my first wife as an undergrad and she wanted to go to grad school out of state, so I applied and followed her. She had such a nice figure back then.” He smiled nodding.
Felix looked at me as if to say “What the fu$k?”
I didn’t understand at the time, but of all of us in the van Dr. Samsara had the most realistic reason to go to grad school, the most achievable reason. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard a story like this. As an undergraduate my social theory professor, when pressed one day to explain why he chose to go into academia said,
“Well. I didn’t know what else to do.” He shrugged. “My dad had some strings to pull and so he got me into a Ph.D. program and so I did that. Then his best-friend got me the job here. Its hasn’t been that bad, I mean I can ride my bike to work.”
“Don’t you love social theory?” a girl on the other side of the circle asked, clearly as upset as I was.
“I like it fine. My sister she’s a dentist. Now that I couldn’t do.”
At the time I thought what an as$hole this guy is. I had nothing but contempt for him. Because academia… it’s a special place right? You go into academia because you love your subject, because you have passion. It’s a luxury, you get to think about the world and help people with suggestions as to how to fix things.
At a recent conference I attended in San Diego, a professor and researcher asked a police chief. “Why don’t you work more closely with us to utilize our research in the field?”
The police chief cleared his throat. “Frankly, sir. Your research doesn’t mean anything to us. One study says one thing. Another says another. We’re out in the world everyday facing crime. We need real solutions not debates.”
The professor’s eyes went dim.
Back in the van, we’ve passed Albany headed west. Felix finally asks, “Dr. Samsara? I thought we were going to lunch?”
“Oh, Lunch.” He smiles. “Yes, lunch. Open the glove box.”
Felix complies, but from the back I can’t see what’s in there. And then I hear it, “Oh dried fruit. Is this lunch?”
“Yes, I love dried fruit. Don’t you? We can stop at this rest stop and get some waters.”
The department chair shook her head, “Outrageous. But you’re okay right?”
“Yeah,” I nod.
“I guess so,” Felix nods.
“Well good. Don’t you two have a class to teach in an hour? How’s that going?”
“Teach?” I say.
“Yeah. Dr. Samsara’s Peace Order Studies.”
“Well where is Dr. Samsara?”
(To Be Continued… in the next segment, Felix and I are involved in a plagiarism scandal that rocks the department).
*** Note these stories are real. I have changed my name and the names of others because I quite frankly fear retribution and problems with employment in this industry. At the same time, I feel like this stuff needs to be discussed.
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