My name is James Adams and I teach Philosophy 101 to freshmen students at a mid-sized college. This is my eighth year and I am being considered for a full professorship. The title of professor means some extra money but more importantly it means tenure and recognition that I am finally a part of the college infrastructure. Sure, I know the decision to give a teacher tenure is as much political as it is academic but I would be lying if I said it wasn't important. It means that I would become part of the establishment of the college-something every college teacher works for.
Now I can look back on my career and smile. However, it has been a bumpy ride at times but there was a lot of fun along the way as well. To be sure, there were times that I thought this day would never come.
How did I get to this point in my life? Well, I guess there is always a little bit of luck when one achieves their career goals. However, I didn't start out to be a college professor. The truth is that the odds were stacked against me in many ways. After graduating from high school with a solid "c," I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. Somehow I got the bright idea to join the Army. Actually I think it was my old man that said that I needed to either get a job or join the Army. I joined the Army. It seemed the easier path. I spent four years in the service, learning how to use lethal weapons as well as how to avoid being killed. Strangely, that's how I ended up as a philosophy major in college. It came to me one night as I was sweltering in some God forsaken jungle in South America waiting to ambush drug smugglers. I was part of the Army's "special ops" team that was assigned to deal with the drug trade south of our borders. My team was hidden in dense jungle overgrowth next to a known drug smuggler's trail, trying our best to keep quiet as misquotes tried just as hard to carry us away.
It was a rare moment of lucid thought that I wondered what the hell I was doing risking my life in this low paid and dangerous job. That may have been the closest I had ever come to a philosophical thought. The answer was like a revelation to me. It seemed like most of the guys around me were crazy or at least acted that way and would have been here even if they weren't paid. I realized that there had to be a better way to make a living. I resolved in that moment of sanity to get out of the military as soon as possible. Hopefully alive!
Within six months I was mustering out of the Army and searching to find a college that would take me regardless of my academic record. Fortunately, I had a connection from a friend of a friend and found a school that would give me the benefit of the doubt. I used the money that I had saved in the past four years, plus the college reimbursement that the Army provided, to register at a small college in upstate New York. The money wasn't enough for all my expenses but I worked a couple of extra jobs and made ends meet. I even received a scholarship to stay on and finish my graduate degree, before going to work for real.
After graduation, I took the first job I could find (always in desperate need of money) and began teaching at a private all boys' high school. Surprisingly teaching wasn't all that different from the Army, i.e., working with unruly boys whose testosterone levels were bubbling over. Fortunately, after two years at the school I got lucky and landed a job teaching intro philosophy at a mid-sized college. That was the beginning of my career and while I didn't know it at the time, began my education in the world of college politics and sex (well, mostly sex).
This story is about how I got here and the ups and downs (pun intended) along the way.
Chapter 1
I remember my first day on the job like it was yesterday. I was sitting behind this very desk trying to act like "professor cool" as students filed into the room. Believe it or not, I had on a tweed jacket, with elbow patches and a vest. I even had a pipe on my desk, although I didn't smoke. However, behind my attempt at a suave demeanor was a very nervous young man. Maybe it was because I had never had a class with thirty students. The size of my classes at the small private school had been in the neighborhood of twelve to fifteen students, and more importantly, all boys. Here, I knew from the roster that I had about twenty girls and ten boys in my first class. That seemed to be the general ratio for my other classes as well.
From my Army days and teaching at a boy's school, I had grown very comfortable being around and teaching guys. Now I would have to learn to deal with the fairer sex. Not that I was totally inexperienced with girls but, believe it or not, I was a somewhat shy, if not naive man. Sometimes I think that's why I went into the Army and even accepted the job at the boys' school-I could do the macho thing to cover up my shyness with girls.
It was a warm day in late August when the term began so the girls were wearing as little as possible. I tried not to watch as one pretty co-ed after the other flowed into the room. However, while my eyes were pretending to be on the papers on my desk (I have great peripheral vision) I could see the ladies as they walked by. Most wore shorts and tank tops, but some had on short summer dresses. I grew up in a house with three sisters so I was familiar with the "hoochie" look-a cross between sluttish and... well sluttish, but acceptable in the circle of most teenaged girls.
My first challenge was learning all of their names. However, I was and am terrible with names. I know the trick is to associate the name with something else but I have a hard time remembering the "something else." Anyway, I always try. There was Jennifer, with the big breasts. I thought she looked like Jennifer Aniston, although this Jennifer had much bigger breasts. Then there was Rachael. She looked a little like Rachael Welsh (when she was young-unfortunately without the big breasts). Then there was Molly who had on a multicolored top that reminded me of a lollipop. Molly... lolli... well, you get the picture. It didn't work anyway.
Somehow I muttled through two classes that morning with one left in the afternoon. I hoped that I had maintained my professional demeanor but I had a pretty good suspicion that many of the students knew that I was green. Several of the girls stopped by my desk to say hi and bat their pretty eyes at me. At the time I thought that there was no way that they could sway my objective opinion of them, which was strictly based on their academic achievements. That was one of the many things I have been wrong about in my career.
When the ending bell rang, and the students had left, I looked up to see my mentor standing in the doorway. Each new teacher is assigned an experienced "older" teacher to help them learn the procedures and policies of the college. It is actually a pretty good program and I've mentored a number of new teachers over the years. My mentor was Abigail VanBuren. Abigail was an "older" woman of about forty. (When you're thirty, anyone over 31 is "older.") She wore her hair short and had horned-rim glasses. However, underneath her "college professor" exterior she appeared to be a very sexy woman. It happened that she was also the Dean of the Philosophy Department, my boss and a very important person to my career. However, I had no idea how important at the time.
"Jim, I have a few papers for you to sign and then we can go to lunch if you like."
"That would be great," I said as I nervously straightened up the papers covering my already messy desk.
"Come on down to my office."
Abigail turned and walked out the door. As I hurried to follow her down the hall, I couldn't help notice that, while she was always professionally dressed, she wore her clothes too tight. However, she had the shape to get away with it. That day she was wearing a gray business suit with a form fitting skirt and jacket. She had on a white blouse with a colorful scarf around her neck. My eyes followed her rear as she strode purposefully on four-inch high heels down the hall in front of me. It almost appeared that she was swaying her hips a little more than necessary. However, I thought it could have been because of the very high heels that she was wearing. I found out it was the former.
