BEWARE: RANT AHEAD

Every so often, just when you start to question your path, something comes along that makes you realize that you've made the right decisions...

Over the past month or so, I've had a few moments of weakness, in which I questioned my decision to leave academe. I've wondered if, having lived in the rarified atmosphere of the university for so long, I am capable of surviving in the "real world," or if I am destined, like a crack addict, to return to the only environment that truly feels like home. I've wondered if I have the survival instincts needed for a life outside of the classroom.

What makes this harder is the fact that I have a nasty little addiction to teaching. I was a very good teacher and I really loved my students. I got a kick out of exposing them to new things and watching them get excited as intellectual doors opened a little wider and things seemed a little more possible.

Worst of all, it seems like everyone in New York is taking a class or working on a degree, and seeing my fellow subway riders reading textbooks and cramming for exams is a little tough. It also doesn't help that I'm surrounded by universities. All this combines to make me feel like a recovering coke addict who just got transferred to a job in Medellin, Columbia. When people find out that I'm a former teacher, they ask me if I'm looking for jobs at colleges. I respond "Hell, no, bitches! Colleges be lookin' for ME!"

Actually, I don't say that at all, but I'm working on my ghetto smack-talk skills.

I was recently starting to weaken, to make the sorts of little deals that hearken back to the days when I was quitting smoking. I told myself that, maybe I'd just teach a little class in one of the community colleges, or get a sub job or something. You know, a little something to tide me over (imagine me wiping my nose on my sleeve at this point). Just in the nick of time, my old pal Bob sent me an e-mail to remind me why I left in the first place. Apparently, a teacher in my old department is about to make a presentation titled "Telling Stories about Genocide: Ethnicity, Memory and Polyphony in Rwanda." In her own words, this presentation features:

Some unfinished thoughts about using poststructuralist theory to address issues concerning storytelling and memory in the aftermath of great tragedy and violence, plus some pictures of memorial sites.

Ooooh! Vacation pictures!

For those of you who are lucky enough to be unfamiliar with Poststructuralism, it is, basically, an academic parlor-trick in which the individual theorist uses double talk and clever rhetoric to deny the existence of any sort of absolute reality or truth. It tends to be a springboard for overgeneralized statements about "The Patriarchy," "Colonialism," and "Western Imperialism."

The French are big fans of Poststructuralism.

Personally, I think Poststructuralism is a great way to annoy friends and make yourself look smart, but it grates against my humanist leanings. When I see it applied to any real human tragedy, I start to get creeped out. This, after all, is the tool that we use when we want to talk about how 9/11 wasn't really an immoral act, and how the Holocaust was a matter of perspective, not a verifiable historical fact.

Added to this is the fact that I personally know the person making this presentation. I sat in her class for a semester and watched her wage personal attacks against several of her students, specifically targeting the males. Later, as an instructor, I had to put up with her regular assertions of moral and intellectual superiority and, again, got to watch her treat her colleagues like dirt. I have no doubt that the department will embrace her clever interpretation of this tragedy, and her presentation will become yet another feather in her cap as she continues her grim, endless accumulation of academic power.

At the end of the day, this is, basically, a university professor climbing the academic ladder over a pile of corpses. I tend to think that using tragedy to play out a narrative about the variable nature of meaning borders on the blasphemous. To see a teacher that I personally know do it reminds me of why, exactly, I am glad to be out of academia.

This Thing of Darkness

Okay, as a (now former) teacher, I'm officially allowed to have a few favorite Shakespeare quotes. One of these is the line that Prospero says at the end of The Tempest. Speaking of Caliban, the twisted servant who recently tried to kill him, Prospero says, "This thing of darkness, I acknowledge mine."

I really love that line, both for its mildly goth structure and for the honesty that it contains. While Prospero is proud to acknowledge his intelligent, beautiful daughter Miranda, he must also accept responsibility for his deformed, angry slave Caliban. This rings true: as any parent will attest, it's easy to take credit for a successful, brilliant child, but much harder to admit responsibility for a shambling disaster.


Case in point: I proudly admit a measure of responsibility for my former student Ian MacFarland. A couple of weeks ago, Ian published copies of Seung-Hui Cho's plays on AOL news. Ian told me that he has received a great deal of criticism for this, but I think that his reason for releasing the plays is sound:

[I] put myself in the shoes of the average person researching this situation. I'd want to know everything I could about the killer to figure out what could drive a person to do something like this and hopefully prevent it in the future. Also, I hope this might help people start caring about others more no matter how weird they might seem, because if this was some kind of cry for attention, then he should have gotten it a long time ago.

The publication of these plays also had a more immediate effect: they opened up a wide-ranging discussion of Seung-Hui Cho's conduct in the university and the myriad warning signs of his impending breakdown. In the weeks following Ian's release, numerous other students and teachers have come forth to talk about Seung-Hui. A consistent picture has emerged of a disturbed recluse who openly discussed his bizarre fantasies of murder and torture. According to various reports, Seung Hui repeatedly stalked his classmates, wrote revenge fantasies that seemed to target his teachers, and was a consistently disruptive influence in class. The question, of course, is why the University didn't do something a long time ago. As Virginia Tech has repeatedly pointed out, colleges have very few options in matters of student rights, but it's worth asking why the school didn't pursue this problem more agressively. Given Virginia Tech's claim that it "Invents the Future," one has to wonder why it wasn't invested in inventing a solution to this problem.

One major issue is the University's method, or lack thereof, for dealing with disturbed students. When issues crop up in the classroom, teachers generally follow the same protocol. We complain to a department administrator, who tells us that there's nothing we can do until the student commits a crime. We, of course, knew this already; we only complained so we could go on the record as having complained, which proves useful when the student acts out and the whole thing becomes a legal case.

That's it. There's no official procedure that we can follow, no university administrator to whom we can appeal. Nothing is written down, nothing is recorded, and nothing is done. I have been through this process a few times and have always found it to be a miserable, insulting experience. There's nothing quite like being told that your fears are meaningless and your safety isn't a priority to make you question your place in the universe.

As Ian points out, the situation is even worse for students who wish to report a problem:

While I "knew" Cho, I always wished there was something I could do for him, but I couldn't think of anything. As far as notifying authorities, there isn't (to my knowledge) any system set up that lets people say "Hey! This guy has some issues! Maybe you should look into this guy!" If there were, I definitely would have tried to get the kid some help. I think that could have had a good chance of averting yesterday's tragedy more than anything.

In Seung-Hui's case, the complainant was Nikki Giovanni. Because Nikki is Virginia Tech's only famous poet, her report holds a little more significance than the rest of ours. Still, she had to threaten to quit before Lucinda Roy, the head of the department, offered to tutor the student in her office. Even so, this was hardly a reasonable solution: Lucinda was terrified of Seung-Hui, but was repeatedly told by the University that there was nothing that could be done. Part of the problem here is that the University, and academia in general, is legally hamstrung in these situations. Because of privacy issues, the University cannot discuss student conduct with parents, and cannot compel students to undergo psychiatric evaluation.

Clearly, the University needs to develop safeguards to protect itself and its students. However, rather than use the April 16th shootings to pursue laws or internal procedures that will improve the situation, the University is in full lockdown mode. By April 17th, my department had sent out an e-mail stating that "Legal Counsel's office asks that you not make statements to the press or anyone while the investigation is pending." Fearing for their jobs, most teachers followed this directive. The notable exceptions were Nikki Giovanni, Lucinda Roy, and Lisa Norris. In the ensuing weeks, all three have become very silent, and I wonder if they were threatened.

A few days after the first e-mail, we recieved this message from the university: "Legal Counsel's office has asked me to remind you that it is inappropriate to speak to anyone, including the press, about a student's behavior in class. FERPA rights survive death. We must be especially careful not to talk about other students or similar cases of troubled students who have exhibited strange behavior in class." While I understand the need to protect a student's legal rights, I'm pretty sure that Seung-Hui Cho's family won't be suing. What I'm far less sure about is that other families won't sue. Of course, FERPA is less pressing in this case; the University's culpability is the real issue here.

When Tech realized that threatening the livelihoods of its professors had produced a truly disturbing level of silence, they relented. We were officially encouraged to talk about the tragedy, as long as we didn't discuss Seung-Hui. In fact, we were given specific points to push in interviews. Here's part of the e-mail that we received:

Next, I want to share with you the messages we think are important to convey. These messages are part of Virginia Tech's continuing efforts to support one another as our community regroups to grieve, heal and move forward:

1. We will not be defined by this event [...] as an academic family we will endeavor to analyze, learn and, ultimately, come to some understanding of the event. Our Principles of Community remain our values [...] Virginia Tech--our traditions, community, history, and promising future--will prevail. Our motto Ut Prosim (That I May Serve) underscores our spirit [...]Finally, everything we do as we move forward will commemorate, honor, and respect the numerous individuals affected by this tragic event.

2. Invent the Future [...] "Invent the Future" captures our role and spirit as a world-renowned research institution. Nothing in the events of last week will alter who we are and what we represent. When classes resume, our academic excellence, the commitment and talent of our students, and our clear role in shaping a positive future for the world will again be apparent. Hokies are, and always will, embody learning, discovery and engagement.

3. Embrace the Virginia Tech Family [...] We are a unique, special family--more enduring and closer to one another than a typical university community [...] Assisting the families and friends of those injured and bereaved is our focus. We are also committed to the assistance and support of one another [...] We will nurture the legacy of the 32 Virginia Tech family members we lost. The Virginia Tech family will celebrate their lives and accomplishments. Our memorials to them, both public and private, will reflect those sentiments.

It is also our intention to do whatever we can to promote the healing process within our community. We consider our communications to be a critical element of that process. We are regaining control of the Virginia Tech reputation and legacy, and believe these messages are crucial to accomplishing that goal.

My students have talked to me about the interviews they have given, and I have encouraged them to talk to the press. If Virginia Tech is to become stronger from this atrocity, I think it will have to do so in spite of its administrators, not because of them. Clearly, the University is neither prepared to nor invested in changing its institutional structure to ensure that this sort of tragedy doesn't happen again. Until Virginia Tech acknowledges "this thing of darkness," it will be incapable of protecting itself and its students against further atrocities.