I believed teaching was one of the last resorts
of the noble mind.
I was young and prideful,
just arrived in town.
At a party welcoming new faculty
an instructor in my department
(I'll call him Ben),
bragging about how far he'd come,
told me he had power
and could get me fired
while a teacher with tenure
stared at the floor.
I was stunned.
The next morning the dean of instruction
summoned me to her office
and remarked pointedly,
looking me over,
that purity is very small.
I left speechless.
The next instructor I met taught art.
As a child, he confided proudly,
he tore wings off bu*terflies
but now hunted down
black widow spiders instead
on a daily basis.
He relaxed between cla**es in the faculty lounge,
tossing barbs laced with obscenity
at one woman or another
(taking care to cultivate one as well).Having responsibilities, I stayed and dodged
and critiqued Ben's attempted novels.
I listened while he described various crimes
he'd been savvy enough to pull off,
like faking a fall for an army discharge
and a pile of benefits;
facilitating drug runs...
He wasn't satisfied with my responses
and said I didn't do enough for him,
that some women didn't know their place
and, too, it looked like I was biased
against his ethnic group.
He told me I could stay out the year
because that was expected,
that I could start looking
because I didn't belong there.
By then I knew he had a power network
in the system, and outside it.
Learning the folly of expectations,
I was knocked for a wallop.
When the old dean from Ben's network left,
her successor, famous for philandering,
told me I needed a power base
(like Ben had)
and said he wanted to be my friend.
He bragged at a new welcoming party,
as though conferring a favor,
that I would soon be on his plate.
Some there thought I should have moved
into a better neighborhood upstate
after I resigned (still nearly penniless)
because, after all,
where I lived reflected on them.