Cursed Cursive

Several years ago I briefly dated a man with young children. Anybody who knows me can well imagine why that relationship did not last more than a few weeks. I feel about children the way Republicans feel about taxes. They might be necessary for the continuation of society, but whatever. That, though, is not the point of this post. What did stick with me from that dating experience was that he once mentioned that his daughter was not learning cursive writing in school. After all, he argued, they do everything on the computer now anyway. Why would they need such an antiquated skill? Living in the shadow of Decaying Midwestern Urban Center, I figured that this astounding news was just another local failing in an already pretty dismal school system. The antipathy that the rest of the nation feels for this region had now cost students the very ability to communicate on paper! Not only do we not deserve jobs or a well-maintained infrastructure, but it appeared that we also shouldn’t be able to jot down a grocery list with speed! It always feels good to have righteous indignation about the nation’s uncaring attitude toward the industrial Midwest.

The past year of teaching, however, revealed that this was no local anomaly. You see I taught the U.S. History survey for the first time in many years. Consider it the jury duty of the history professorate. Since I do my best to give even freshman students an idea of what professionals historians actual do, I often assign some significant amount of writing. I began to notice that students took an unusually long time to complete even the most basic in-class essay. Even a paragraph took what seemed like a century. Then I observed that each of them always submitted about a page of neatly block-printed prose. Each letter of each word seemed like it had been crafted with more attention than John Hancock’s signature on a forged ship’s manifesto. Well, if John Hancock had never learned cursive writing. It brought me back to what the former boyfriend had mentioned about his own children. Had we reached the point where students no longer even knew how to write cursive? Little did I know it was deeper than that.



It really did not cross my mind again for another several weeks. In the meantime, I had assigned a document reader of historical sources entitled American History Firsthand: Working with Primary Sources. This choice proved imperfect to be sure. After all, this careful collection of materials lacked a single document from any Latina/o – ever. Apparently the editors imagined that no such people existed in this country despite the fact that they are now the largest minority population. But I digress.

I selected this particular reader, despite its implicit anti-Latino bias, because of what it did do: mixing popular culture, visual, and political documents in one binding. It also reproduced those documents as closely as they might have appeared in an actual archive. This, I thought, simulated the work of actual historians without having to march all my students to an actual archive. After all, the idea of 170 students descending on a manuscript collection would make any archivist sweat more than Rick Santorum in a gay sauna.



The students in this class performed quite well and showed that they had smart and savvy skills. One day, though, when it came time to discuss a series of letters in the reader, they became oddly silent. After using up the usual bag of tricks to try and promote conversation, I asked them what was the deal? With some hemming and hawing, a lone brave student admitted that he couldn’t read the documents because they were in cursive. The rest of the students, happy that he had released the shameful truth, all agreed that the letters were unfathomable. This blew my mind. I mean, it was one thing to have never mastered writing cursive, but reading it was now out of the question? To be clear, too, I did not assign colonial-era documents written with the fluff and frills of old English. That mess could screw anybody up with all those "f's" that are really "s's". No, no. These were something written in the twentieth century with a clear and simple penmanship. I became curious and asked if they learned any cursive at all. They acknowledged that they spent a few days or so on it back in grade school. It was enough to learn a signature, but otherwise, why bother? They could type whatever they needed.



I suppose that there is a logic in the demise of cursive. When was the last time any of us wrote an actual letter to somebody? Anything longer than a sticky note is generally done on a computer. Yet, I can’t explain my unease that cursive is leaving the world.

It is peculiar that I should think such a thing since I have actually always struggled with my penmanship. In grade school I had only one Achilles heel to an otherwise spotless academic record. After all, I played well with others, never ran with scissors, and only occasionally ate library paste. Yet, my report card always listed a “carrottop” for handwriting. For those who did not attend Albuquerque Public Schools, a carrottop was this symbol: ^. It basically meant a “D”, but apparently educational theory in the 1980s suggested letter grades would be too demeaning to a third grader. A carrottop must have sounded so much more pleasant. It’s something you would give Peter Rabbit on his report card. Well, if Peter Rabbit’s future education hung precariously by a thread because he appeared functionally illiterate.

Forever after that point teachers would usually have only one complaint about my school work: “The boy’s handwriting is so messy and small that I almost went blind trying to read it.” It would not be until my freshman year in college that my handwriting improved dramatically. Oddly enough, it was a semester of Russian that turned things around quite a bit. While I can do nothing in that language other than ask directions to the Bolshoi theater, attempting to learn Russian had an odd side effect of transforming my penmanship. Having to learn an entirely new script meant that I also indirectly relearned how to write in cursive in English. This is not to say that I now write in calligraphy (I still field many complaints about my writing), but it is a vast improvement.



This peculiar knowledge about writing cursive puts an odd generational divide between my students and me. For instance, I will have to remember when I grade their papers to block print my comments. Oh, look at me, thinking they would actually read my comments on their papers! Silly, optimistic, GayProf. Nonetheless, it feels quite weird to have such a big gap between them and me. I am not that much older.

True, there are many other things that I do that would seem totally anachronistic to them as well. I proudly drive a car with a manual transmission – Anything else really isn’t really driving. I grill only with charcoal – Anything else isn’t barbequing, it’s just cooking outside. I still pay almost all my bills with actual checks – Anything else seems like a one-way path to identity theft. I therefore long ago accepted that I fell far behind in the social/technological world of my students. I would know if I was tweeting, right?

So it makes me a bit sad to think cursive is at as great a risk as Lindsay Lohan is for a relapse. If you remember this blog then you already know that I am more than a bit inclined to nostalgia. This morning’s coffee has already become a treasured bittersweet memory of something now gone.



The loss of cursive, though, really leaves me blue. It only speeds us even faster to becoming a cyborg nation. As much as I struggled with cursive, I do remember that learning it felt like a rite of passage on the way to adulthood. My mother always had to translate the notes or birthday cards that my grandparents sent in the mysterious scroll. Learning to write (even feebly) in the same manner felt the same as breaking the code of the Rosetta Stone to my nine-year old self. Now it appears that later generations will find the code forever locked to them.

Never Get GayProf Wet or Feed Him After Midnight

I've been busy. Not busy in painful ways, but busy enough to set aside my blogging duties. I know -- The blogosphere feels so empty without me.

My mother came to visit, which required the usual ritual cleaning before hand. Then, of course, we spent several days on the road touring forgotten Midwestern cities (Have I mentioned that the rest of the U.S. should feel profound shame at their blatant disregard for this region?). We did make a stop at Chrysler -- I think that they were giving away stock as a gift with the purchase of Diet Coke. You know it's a bad sign when a company has to turn to Fiat in a hope to improve quality and management decisions.

Now I am departing for my version of Paradise Island -- Which isn't really an island at all. Actually, it's totally landlocked. But it is the source of my strange and mysterious powers.

Sure, I've some ideas for posts. But, instead, I thought that you all would like to know some new things about me:

Ten Top Trivia Tips about GayProf!

1. GayProf will often glow under UV light!
2. GayProf was originally called Cheerioats.
3. Michelangelo finished his great statue of GayProf in 1504, after eighteen months work!
4. GayProf can pollinate up to six times more efficiently than the honeybee.
5. It is bad luck to light three cigarettes with the same Gay Prof!
6. GayProf was first discovered by Alexander the Great in India, and introduced to Europe on his return!
7. If GayProf was life size, he would stand 7 ft 2 inches tall and have a neck twice the size of a human!
8. New Zealand was the first place to allow GayProf to vote.
9. A chimpanzee can learn to recognize itself in a mirror, but GayProf can not.
10. The GayProf-fighting market in the Philippines is huge - several thousand GayProf-fights take place there every day.

Make your own trivia here (HT: Acadamnit (and probably others)).

Take Me for a Ride

I took time out of my busy schedule of undermining heterosexual marriages and recruiting young people into my lifestyle the other night. Hey, even we gays need time to ourselves.

While relaxing at home, a man that I had gone out with a few times this past summer phoned me. We didn’t get to know each other well. I had always intended to try to reconnect with him, but timing was against us. Unfortunately, when we first met, I was deep into the Never Ending Research Project of Doom. Later, the semester started and I became bogged down in classes. I meant to phone him when things stablized, but I had to travel for some conferences. Then, of course, there was the Project Runway finale. When all was said and done, I just never found the right time.

When he called the other night, he let me know that he had been laid-off by his company in Decaying Midwestern Urban Center. As a result, he was leaving the Midwest region and wanted to say goodbye.

I was struck by his disappointment at having to move. He was a Mexican national who had come to the U.S. Midwest because he wanted a place radically different from his home surroundings. For him, life in the Midwest was an adventure even after several years. He was one of the few people that I have met here who talked about this state with enthusiasm.

With his company hemorrhaging money, though, they cut his position. Unable to find any other work around here, he was forced to take a job in Texas, a state that he hated passionately (We had so much in common! I should have tried harder to make that relationship work).

Such is the story of the U.S. Midwest. The economy has become so crippled that even people who would like to stay simply can’t. The mass exodus from the Midwest has meant that people have relocated to places which are environmental disasters. I am looking at you, Phoenix. The Midwest actually has water. Arizona does not.



For decades, this part of the country has been in decline while the rest of the nation simply ignored it. I am willing to wager that the conditions in Detroit are comparable to pre-Katrina New Orleans, probably even post-Katrina.

Most times, the media pretends like the Midwest doesn’t exist at all. Take, for instance, election night coverage. I was astounded by the number of pundits who claimed that the Democrats, before 2008, were only a “coastal party." Well, yes, as long as you count the shores of the great lakes as “coasts.”

Today there is a question about whether the U.S.-based automotive industry will survive. The corrupt leadership in Detroit has come to the U.S. government looking for a handout. To my mind, it’s the same as giving your druggie cousin $500 for tuition money that he promises will turn his life around. Oh, sure, the auto execs made us all sorts of assurances that they will put the money to good use and become upstanding citizens. A week after they get it, though, you just know that we are going to stumble upon GM sprawled out in an alley somewhere with a needle full of petroleum up its arm. We’ll confront them, but they’ll tell us that we don’t understand what it is like when you start jonesing for the high-premium.

Much to my surprise, it is the Republicans who are now calling for these industries to fail. Their arguments can be persuasive (except for the part where they blame those audacious unions for demanding a living wage (If only American companies could simply enslave people again! Then we would show you an automobile worth driving!). Of course, many of the Republican critics are in states with foreign-owned auto factories. So, are we, as a people, conceding that we are unable to build decent vehicles anymore?

As a nation, we will now produce what exactly? Some argue that we are a "knowledge economy" or a "technology economy." To them I ask, Have you tried using Microsoft Vista? If that's our niche in the global market, we are screwed.

The sad reality is that the collapse of the automotive industry will be the death knell of several major states. Longtime readers know that this is not my first time in the Midwest. My graduate university was located in a town that once produced a major car brand that ceased to exist somewhere in the middle of last century. What replaced that industry in town? Nothing. Do I mean several smaller industries? No, I mean nothing. Do I mean that the town became oriented to service or information technology? No, I mean nothing. The abandoned factory, some sixty years vacant, still stood in the middle of the town (which was too broke to even have it torn down).



Even my current residence, Midwestern Funky Town (which is largely considered one of the garden spots of the region), is clearly feeling the economic collapse. Some of our roads have gone so long without repair that I am thinking of calling NASA for a moon-buggy to navigate the potholes.

The problems of the Midwest are the problems of the nation. I don’t mean that in some idealized “fields of amber grain” or “apple pie” sort of way. Instead, I mean that the nation’s worst impulses has resulted in the near total destruction of this part of the country. Unless we seriously reevaluate our priorities and relationships, it will happen to the rest of the U.S. Greed, petty self-interest, and unchecked corporate growth have now given us its fruits. And let me tell you, it’s going to be some nasty-ass lemonade that we are going to end up making.



I am uncertain and torn about what is best. On the one hand, I am furious by the greedy idiots who ran the companies that churned out gas-guzzling Ford F150s or Hummers. I am also furious at the people who bought gas-guzzling Ford F150s or Hummers.

Most of all, I am frustrated by the continued myth that corporations are the key to the nation’s salvation. Corporations have created many of our problems because they have sought wealth for the few at the expense of the many. I am disheartened that Democrats seem to cling to long defunct notions of “trickle down economics.” We are to believe that rescuing banks, automakers, and Goddess-knows-what-else will ultimately make its way down to help the working class. This has not proved to be true. Meanwhile, they have totally ruled out helping individual citizens in debt up to their earlobes.

Throughout this economic crisis, we have often heard that certain banks/companies are “too big to let fail.” Well, isn’t that the problem in the first place? Why did we allow any company to become that big? Mergers that were against the interests of consumers and workers have been granted for well over the past two decades. How many of you, my dear readers, heeded my Cassandra-like advice and wrote to your government leaders to oppose the merger of Northwest Airlines and Delta? Think of me in my star-spangled panties telling you “I told you so” when you try to book that ticket home to see grandma for Thanksgiving.




Alas, I can’t disagree that the region needs the auto makers for the time being. If the U.S. government does bail out these industries, however, they should adhere to GayProf’s demands:

* First, there should be a clean-sweep of all executives in the company. They ran it into the ground, they should be shown the exit.

* Second, let’s break up “the big three” into the “mid-size ten” or the “small twenty.” Why do we need three giant corporations? If we are capitalists, aren’t we supposed to believe that competition will make better products?

* No matter what, the government should own part of the companies and have a direct hand in their operations. If we are paying for it, we should have title to it.

* Fourth, profits from GM’s overseas Asian operations should also be funneled directly into their U.S. branch.

* Lastly, GayProf should receive a brand new Dodge Challenger as payment for this advice. Hey, no matter what, it still is a hot car.

For What It's Worth

This past weekend I hosted my long-threatened charity cocktail party for the Midwestern Funky Town queer youth center. The attendance was a bit smaller than I anticipated (some of my extended entourage were out of town at an academic conference), but it still generated a reasonable sum of money for the group.

To be honest, that is the type of volunteer work that I can really get behind. More public service should revolve around drinking (though I am contemplating joining VUBOQ’s liver-resting April).

Even without the drinking, it gave me opportunity to break out my fabled Bewitched-style warming tray. What self-respecting host(ess) doesn’t have one?



Given that I am in charitable mood, I decided that it was time for me to solve many of the nation’s other problems. I am generous like that – a giver, if you will. Here are the simple solutions to many of our greatest challenges:

The Housing Crisis: The value of houses is falling dramatically across the nation. This might be a crazy first idea, but how about a moratorium on building new shit? Throughout the Midwest, there are tons of empty homes and even giant skyscrapers. Driving through Detroit is much like journeying to a future dystopia. Amazing twenty-story buildings (with stunning Beaux-Arts architecture) sit empty. One expects to see the Ωmega Man lurking about.



In the meantime, wild building is occurring in areas of the nation that literally lack the natural resources to support the population growth. People who are moving to Phoenix, you realize that it is a desert, right? By desert, I mean there is no water -- Like, not at all. Shouldn't that be a sign that a city of 1.5 million is a bad, bad idea? (Stay out of New Mexico – It’s not for you).

Let’s treat the nation like the spoiled child that it is – No new toys until you finish playing with the ones that you already got. No new homes, office building, hotels, or other buildings until we have 100 percent occupancy on the stuff that we already got. If people need a house or an office, they can pay to remodel existing properties in the Midwest. This will keep the construction industry busy for years to come.

The Tumbling Value of the U.S. Dollar: The value of the dollar (or, as I like to refer to it, the U.S. peso) has fallen to all time lows compared to the euro, British pound, the yen, and even the Canadian dollar (!). It’s just another thing that Republican voters (and those who stayed home) created in 2004.

I ain’t no economist, but it seems like the Federal Reserve’s one-step catch-all solution of lowering interest rates is nothing but crap. Lowering interest is flooding the market with money, which leads to inflation, which leads to making the problem worse and devaluing the dollar even more. Where did Ben Bernanke get his degree in economics? An on-line course? A cereal box?

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I think the U.S. dollar could use some product re-branding. It did wonders for Kentucky Fried Chicken when they renamed themselves KFC. It’s the same old grease and slaw, but people clearly don’t think about the “fried” bit anymore (or the blocked aortas).

Let’s relaunch the U.S. Dollar under a new name, like the U.S. Slammer. That will make our currency more hip and at least sound powerful. Imagine a sales clerk telling you that your total was “three slammers” rather than three dollars.

Of course, the re-branding would also require a redesign of our currency. Aren’t we tired of dead, straight white men on the face of our money? I have always been in favor of this:



The United States’s Difficult Relationship with Iran: According to Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, there are no gays in Iran. Well, no wonder Iran is so angry with the U.S.! We thought that it had to do with our blanket imperialism and unilateral military actions in the region. It turns out that the real problem is that we have been hoarding all the gays for ourselves. That’s awfully selfish of the U.S. Why, West Hollywood has a bumper crop of gays this year. Clearly it’s time to send some of them into Iran and brighten up the place. Gay sex, after all, makes everybody happy.



The Democratic Nomination: Obama or Clinton? To listen to the followers of each candidate, one would think that the choice was between eternal salvation or a new definition of pain and suffering as we are slowly digested over a thousand years. For my part, I really don’t see all that dramatic of a difference between the candidates (Though Obama’s speech on race plus his endorsement by Bill Richardson has nudged me toward his corner in recent weeks).

Wake up, people. Neither is great on gay issues, immigration, or even basic economic policies (All of my favorite issues). The best we can hope for is that they will be quasi-reasonable and work with those of us who are interested in actual social-justice issues (rather than the aforementioned hyperbole and rhetoric).

In my mind, either one is vastly preferably to McCain and a huge improvement over the incompetent moron in office today. Hell, my cat is more competent than the moron in office today (and darn cute).

All the same, the Democratic Party is divided. Even some of my own family members are threatening to boycott the 2008 election if their chosen candidate doesn’t win the primary. That’s just crazy talk.

I am tired of the hyperbole that has been flying around from both sides of this election. People who fall for the cult of personality in politics make me nervous. It also distracts them from worshiping their true savior: Me.

There is only one solution to this mess: Appoint Laura Roslin to be president in 2008. I mean, she doesn’t feel the need to be elected (always coming into office through the back door), but she does a hell of a job all the same. Trust me, fighting off Cylons is going to be a piece of cake compared to repairing the damage created by eight years of Bush and Cheney.



The Current Administration: Jail time for everybody.

Advice Nobody Needs

I have more or less settled into Midwestern Funky Town. My cottage is now presentable to the public. The boxes that needed to be unpacked have been unpacked. The remainder are stacked in the guest room, which is currently closed on the GayProf house tour.

Of course, the cottage seems a bit empty. Though I had the perfect amount of furniture for my Boston studio, a whole house (even a relatively small one) requires a bit more. Yet, I am really resistant about buying more stuff. I fear that I will be like a goldfish and simply keep expanding until I fill my current living space. Though unlikely, I subconsciously (or perhaps consciously) want to be ready to move back to a metro studio at a moment’s notice.

In the meantime, I am slowly learning the way things work in MFT. This weekend, I ventured out to the only gay bar (Yeah, we are all surprised that there is only one). While it was nice (everything in MFT is unusual in its niceness), I came to the conclusion that I will need to explore nearby Decaying Midwestern Urban Center for a wider queer community.

Then there is always Toronto, a mere four or five hours away. All of that, though, will have to wait until I finally finish the Never Ending Research Project of Doom.

Being settled, though, brings about the specter of the coming semester. This will be the first time that I have taught in over a year and half.

I actually enjoy teaching, which is good. It is a vital part of my job. Still, if I won the lotto, all you would see is an empty podium with pile of grade sheets for the students to fill in themselves and a brochure for San Juan, Puerto Rico.

Since that hasn't happened, I have been revising my syllabi and thinking about teaching. A couple weeks ago, Tenured Radical published her tips for new teachers. Given that most of this blog is a form of plagiarism, I figured that I would do likewise. Even if you aren’t a professor, it can give you a window into the whole career.

1. Students are not going to remember 90 percent of what you tell them five years from now. Sure, there will be a couple in your classes who find the topic so engrossing that they will keep studious notes. As a professor, you will affect their lives forever and be one of the most important people who shaped their adult thinking.

If you are lucky, that is maybe one student per semester. The majority of your students are just there to earn some credit hours and do what is required of them.

Don’t feel frustrated. I know that I was the same with many of my undergraduate classes. A few professors that I had still influence the way that I think today. When I look at my undergraduate transcript, however, there are other courses listed that I have no memory of ever attending. I couldn’t tell you if the professor was a man or woman, much less any of the content (Did I really take a class entitled “Nonverbal Communication?” Huh – I wonder what that involved . . .)

If you have a big point to make with your course, repeat it over and over again. It increases your odds that something will stick in that ten percent that they will actually retain.

2. You will give students wrong information at some point in your teaching career. Maybe you will muddle the date of Queen Isabella’s arrival at Granada or forget what the U.S. Constitution said about noble titles. At some point, though, you are going to say the wrong thing. None of us are perfect. Well, okay, GayProf is perfect. So, I should say none of you people are perfect.

Hey, don’t sweat it. During the next class session, just correct yourself. Far from sacrificing your authority, students like to know that their professors are [sort of] human. Besides, a couple little errors here and there don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Why? See Number One.

3. Teaching is a political act. Be honest with yourself and your students. By political act, I don’t mean that David Horowitz is actually right and we are all trying to secretly turn our students into ultra liberals. We don’t have that power. Why? See Number One.

On the other hand, we are approaching the topic with a certain perspective and asking students to engage with us. We disrupt the status quo just by presenting new knowledge. We also have the authority to ask students to try out different ideas or concepts.

All we can do, though, is ask. It’s up to them to decide what to do with the material that we present to them.

I have known several professors who think that their goal in teaching is to “trick” students into accepting either a left or a right political position. They create elaborate schemes and pretend to take an ambiguous position on important issues as some sort of twisted Socratic method. Fuck that shit.

Students aren’t lab rats and they aren’t there to take part in professors’ mind games. Be honest and candid with your students. They are smart enough to make up their own minds. Even if they aren’t smart enough, they will still make up their minds anyway, so you might as well keep your own ethics intact.

If you are a gay professor, say so. If you are lefty, say so. If you are a feminist, say so. If you are a right-wing Nazi, say so. Does it influence or change the material that you are presenting? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. Regardless, it does a world of good for everybody to be open about their perspectives. Universities are supposed to be the place for an honest exchange of ideas.

The best teaching comes in the form of conversation. It’s really hard, though, to talk with somebody who keeps lying about what they really think.

4. Learn to accept that you are going to have students that you like more than others. Don’t get me wrong. Your goal in the classroom is not to create a cult of personality around yourself with a few chosen followers. That is why you have a blog.

In any class, though, there is going to be a small number of students who are just a bit more engaged and a bit more interested in the topic. They will make you happy teaching, so don’t feel guilty if you find yourself a little more interested in grading their papers than the other students. These might be the couple of students where Number One does not apply (but probably not).

5. Learn to accept that you are going to have students who you just don’t like at all. Maybe they show up late all the time. Maybe they turn in their assignments having done them in crayon. Maybe you just don’t like their shoes. I don’t know. Whatever the case, there are going to be a few students who rub you the wrong way.

During those times, it’s important to take a zen approach. Like a medical doctor healing an ornery patient, so also you must remember that your goal is to educate (not befriend). Take them as they present themselves and remain professional. Strive for fairness. It’s never worth fighting with a student. Remember Number One.

6. Learn to accept that you are going to find a few students physically attractive. Oh, yeah – GayProf isn’t afraid to say it. If you are teaching at most universities, you are dealing with a population of young people between 18 and 21. Anybody who tells you that they don’t find somebody in that group attractive is a liar. Our society values youth and beauty. You are not the exception. Get over it. It doesn’t make you lecherous or evil. It makes you normal – Well, as normal as any professor really is.

Of course, it goes without saying that you never, ever act on such an observation. That would make you lecherous and evil. You will not only lose your job, but also probably give your student another reason not to trust. Besides, long after the affair is over, Number One will still apply to that student.

7. Teaching won’t get you tenure. Sorry, kiddies, teaching isn’t the name of the game at universities or even “teaching” colleges. Only one thing gets you tenure: research. The quantity and quality of that research will vary depending on your university, but they are always going to want it.

As young, idealistic professors, our temptation is to be the best professors we can be. Plus, teaching is much, much easier than research. These two things often result in us slavishly devoting all of our time to our students. It’s a struggle to realize that you can be a pretty darn good teacher and not spend all of your time focused on it.

Yeah, yeah – Tenure and Promotion committees will spend five (Maybe even ten!) minutes paying lip service to teaching. If you regularly burn your students with cigarettes, it might even cost you tenure. Nobody, though, is going to be promoted based on being a stellar teacher. Likewise, if you have a complete research package, nobody is going to be denied tenure based on a so-so teaching record. That’s just reality.

So, when senior colleagues come to talk to you about the importance of teaching (and they are probably the ones who barely got tenure based on their thin research record), be polite. Know the score, though. Teaching.Doesn’t.Get.You.Tenure. Budget your time with that knowledge.

Look at it from the perspective of the universities. Published research will last forever. They can go to a library and hold it in their little hands. More importantly, they can see the name of your university published on the byline. In contrast, what will your students remember? See Number One.

8. Teaching will always be there. No matter how fantastic we are as scholars, we are almost always going to return to the classroom. It is what pays our bills. So, I don’t understand people who don’t seek out research opportunities (or even turn down those presented to them) because they can't bare the thought of being away from the classroom for a semester.

Some people have asked, “But, GayProf, haven’t you missed your students? Don’t you need that regular engagement?” Sure, I have missed students. You know, though, I have some pretty smart friends with whom I can talk. Besides, teaching will always be there. New students will always be enrolled. Any young professor has potentially thirty years worth of classroom time. If I can take time to do research, I am taking it. I will also actively seek out opportunities, like fellowships. Why? See Number Seven.

9. Grading sucks. I remember the first class that I taught, I found the notion of grading exciting. It seemed like an adventure to really find out how each student came to terms with Chicano history. That wore off with a quickness.

The engaged students’ papers are fun to read. After you finish grading both of them, though, you are often left with a pile of poorly typed essays that were written within the past twenty-four hours. If the students’ didn’t enjoy writing them, you can bet that you aren’t going to enjoy reading them (This is also why coming up with creative assignments is really important. You and they will be happier if you ask them to engage both sides of their brain from time to time).

One of my former colleagues had a theory that our entire salaries were based exclusively on the act of grading. Pretty much everything else we would do for free.

After spending hours reading, correcting, and commenting on those papers (because you are an ethical professor, after all), you will feel kinda depressed. Reviewing Number One only makes this feeling worse.

10. Remember to enjoy teaching. Sure, this list sounds a bit cynical. In truth, though, teaching is a great deal of fun. You have the opportunity to talk with a whole group of people about the thing that you have devoted your professional life doing. For those three hours each week, you get to encourage students to think about their world in new ways. You also get to learn from their perspectives. Some of your students will even be smarter than you (Smartness, to my mind, is not measured by the amount of knowledge one has (You will always know more (I hope)). Instead, smartness is measured by one’s ability to think creatively. Let me tell you, I have had some students who were a whole hell of a lot smarter than me.

Personally, I think of teaching as being as close to hosting a late-night talk show as I will ever get. Enjoy the opportunities – Seek out the challenges – Don’t neglect your research. Teaching.Doesn't.Get.You.Tenure. (It was worth repeating).

Remember, though, don’t take yourself too seriously in the classroom. In the end, it’s all about Number One.