The Beginning of the End

Thanks to some really hateful colleagues, I may be out on my ear at the university where I currently teach. It is clear I will not get tenure. Right now, the question is whether I will teach next semester or not. At this point, I do not want to be part of this faculty. They are nasty, narrow-minded, hateful, vengeful, and perfectly willing to cut off their noses to spite their faces. My students love me. They praise me. Just a few days ago, one of my students told me that I was the only one of his teachers who even knew his name. I know both his name and his nickname. I've seen pictures of his infant son.

I buy gifts for pregnant students. I bring candy and cookies to class on a frequent basis, not because I think they need more sweets, but because I know there are students in my classes who don't get to eat regular meals. I give money to students. I buy meals for students. I hold them in my arms when they cry because they are lonely, persecuted, and depressed.

Recently, Tyler (never a student of mine but certainly a friend of mine) wrote this note to me inside his Christmas card: "You are the reason I continue to stay here at Ferris. If not for you, I'd have gone even crazier by now because of all the foolishness and pettiness that goes on around here. They're all just jealous that you're better than that. Fight to stay! We love you and so do your students."

Oh, Tyler, if only it were that simple!

I made the "mistake" of writing on Facebook that I was going to murder my enemies fictionally. Someone (I don't know who) decided that was a threat, and that I deserved to be reported to the Dean and the lawyers. I have murdered off a former boss many times--in my writing. The old bat lived to be 90+ and died of old age. Amazingly, none of the words I wrote ever did her any harm. In fact, I make no effort to publish these pieces of writing. I'm not an idiot. My son has a law degree. He got his interest in law from me. In fact, I am tempted to get a law degree just so I can be even scarier! I'm Public Enemy Number One, dontcha know.

Face it, this whole shitfest has convinced me that it's time to retire. I cannot have pleasure in teaching when I am constantly under pressure to conform to an impossible standard. I teach 4 and sometimes 5 classes a semester. I have (usually) at least 3 preps and sometimes 4. I am on 4 committees. Yet I am not "doing enough." I gave some students a break and allowed them to turn in work late. Now I'm accused of "falsifying grades." I give up. You don't want me here? I'll go. But I reserve the right to murder each and every one of you--fictionally. You will never ever need to worry that I will harm you physically or even psychologically. My writing won't be published. I won't even try to publish it. I just need to vent in a safe way, and up until recently, my writing was that "safe way."

But as one last salvo to the bastards and bitches who are out to get me: "You are scum. You are rodents. You are filth. And nothing you can hide behind will ever change that."