Many Forms of Panic

I am in my office, reading a book of poems I ordered to help lessen the trauma of reading all the books that will hopefully catch me up so that I can appropriately mention names at parties, and many forms of panic begin to visit my lonely office vigil.

First, the colleague the chair talked to in the office next door about her loud study sessions. I've heard much about this in the last week, though as a music listener, I'm largely unfazed. Does she, with all her tenured might, think it was me?

Second, a parade of faculty down the hall, muttering about a conference room. Am I missing a faculty meeting? Why can't I find it in my e-mail? Who can I ask without exposing my horrible skills as a new colleague?

Third, the realization that my old lecture notes are all in a format that Microsoft Word for Mac refused to admit exists. Will I spend my whole term reinventing the wheel of my thoughts?

Flame on!

I knew the day had gotten bad when my roommate suggested to me that I might need too keyed up by the day's events.

---

I don't generally think of myself as having a temper. If anything, I'm probably too slow to anger most times, owing to a family full of folks prone to flying off the handle. I've got an extremely long fuse.

And yet, sometimes, when I'm really frustrated, I find myself with a vision of myself catching fire. There I am, a picture in my own head: engulfed in flames, trying to make it through the world. In these visions, I'm a water person convinced I'm fire: I don't want to lash out, I simply want to go through things: walls, structures, limits. When I'm less angered, I find ways around them. But not today.

Today, I wanted to catch fire.

Since that wasn't possible, I thought about all sorts of other rash actions. I spent a fair amount of time pacing my living room floor and debating the straw that would break my camel's back. Wisely, no doubt, I passed on most of those options. Instead, I took a long walk, down by the river and through town. Music up loud. It didn't do much to take the edge off, but it was something at least.

---

There was a problem this summer, that resulted in classes being canceled that shouldn't have been. Ultimately, the University gave some funds to those profs whose courses were canceled in error. My class was canceled for this reason, though there were plenty of other snafus that happened along the way.

For whatever reason, though, there was no mysterious infusion of funds for me.

I'm not above saying I want my slice of the pie. And so part of the day was spent trying to get some explanation. The culmination of the day - the answer to the question - was, and I'll quote:

"[This solution] was only negotiated for undergraduate [courses] since I did not know about [graduate courses]. We will be developing a new procedure for next summer."

I felt well and truly dismissed.

Not surprisingly, that one line answer left me in more than a bit of a funk. Obviously a response is in order, unless I'm prepared to be dismissed by a negotiation I knew nothing about that obviously didn't have the full set of facts. And even though I've managed to avoid the truly angry e-mail I wanted to write, as far as I can tell there isn't a way to write a response that won't result in the administrative equivalent of "fighting words."

We'll see what a good night's sleep brings, but it seems like that's how it's going have to be: Curmudgeon on fire, going through things rather than working around them.

A Class Meme

I've seen this around a time or two, most recently at Squadratomagico's, and I've meant to complete it for awhile. Part of what I think is interesting about it is the almost protectionist response (though thankfully not at Squadratomagico's) that it seems to elicit: "Those things may be true about me, but they don't mean I'm a member of a privileged class." Yes, that's true. But they're pretty good indicators of whether you might belong or not.

The idea behind this is not to incite some sort of class warfare, by marking which are true for you (put in bold), but to simply help you think about some things that might be markers of privilege. And in a time where questions of middle class versus wealth are coming to the forefront, not to mention questions of race and ethnicity (and those things are often tied to class, even in "enlightened society, whatever that might be). And part of why I wanted to put it up here is that class is such a sensitive word in American society, and my inclination is always to poke at things that are tender so we can figure out why.

So, here goes.

1. Father went to college.
2. Father finished college - he got an Associate's degree just after I graduated with my B.S.
3. Mother went to college. - this has been a point of shame for her, to the point that she's been known to tell tales about it
4. Mother finished college.
5. Had any relative growing up who was an attorney, physician, or professor.
6. Were the same or higher class than your high school teachers.
7. Had more than 50 books in your childhood home.
8. Had more than 500 books in your childhood home.
9. Were read children's books by a parent.
10. Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18.
11. Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18.
12. The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively.
13. Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18.
14. Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs.
15. Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs.
16. Went to a private high school.
17. Went to summer camp.
18. Had a private tutor before you turned 18.
19. Family vacations involved staying at hotels.
20. Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18.
21. Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them.
22. There was original art in your house when you were a child.
23. You and your family lived in a single-family house
24. Your parent(s) owned their own house or apartment.
25. You had your own room as a child.
27. Participated in a SAT/ACT prep course..
26. You had routine and consistent medical and dental care.
28. Had your own TV in your room in high school.
29. Owned a mutual fund or IRA in high school or college.
30. Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16.
31. Went on a cruise with your family.
32. Went on more than one cruise with your family.
33. Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up.
34. You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family.

Part of what is so fascinating here is that class is such a moving target. If you think about moments where someone has provided a fairly nuanced demographic definition of a class - think Bourdieu's Distinction - the idea of class becomes not only culturally bound (in his example, French) but historically bound as well. What was a mark of distinction at the time of his study doesn't seem likely to be today.

That brings me to what I think is most fascinating about this meme: the things that I'd add to it if I were writing it. It's significant, I think, that for some periods of my childhood we were able to get by on a single income. Those periods weren't long - they mostly happened in my high school years - but they were there. I can't imagine almost any American family today surviving on a single income, let alone what my father made as an NCO in the military (which is also the only reason I had consistent health care as a child). Similarly, I'd ask questions specifically about what one's school did, though I would add that in because I took a very strict interpretation of the questions.

Ultimately, I guess I wonder what other markers of class we should be thinking about. Bourdieu, for example, offered familiarity with particular pieces of classical music as an example of one marker. Maybe that's the still the case if you were to ask someone like Bourdieu. But I can't help but think there's a third limit on the notion of class: where you're looking from. I do wonder what his study would have found the markers of "distinction" were who weren't from whatever privileged class he was imagining. I don't think, however, that I'd get the same answerif I were to ask my students or - even more tellingly, perhaps - their parents.

On some level, this parallax error of class perception I think might account for some of the distress about "Joe Sixpacks" and "hockey moms" in this election. It isn't just that classes live diferent lives. It is that they see them differently as well.

Being Exhibit A (or Still More From the Other Side of the Table)

So just when all was right with hiring in our department - after our decision was reached and the offer sent out - one of the jolly fellows I work with melted down. Now there are doubts. Now there are recriminations. And it turns out he may be an Abe Simpson look alike. The nuances of his difficulty are many, but what's most frustrating is that it's come after all of our discussion and after attempts to defuse at least some of the issues we thought he'd have.

There are two kickers for me buried in the midst of this. The first is that someone who is otherwise seemingly as progressive as they come, complained that a candidate would dare to try to negotiate. But the second is that I've been turned into a piece of evidence for his argument. And while his interpretation of me-as-evidence is flattering in many regards, it's also wrong-headed and factually incorrect, not in the least because the things he's upset about are all things I've done (including trying to negotiate when I took the job).

I've been sitting on the complaint (it so could have been its own version of "Things From My Inbox") except yesterday turned out to be such a relaxing day that there was no way I was going to deal with it then. But I know myself well enough that even in this small department, I'm not going to be able to avoid commenting.