Monthly Archives for September 2010

Mills College President Janet Holmgren Dogged by Controversy

One of the perks of working for a college president is that occasionally you get to rub shoulders with the rich and famous.  I, for example, once attended a Rose Garden swearing-in ceremony and met President Clinton, Senator Daniel Patrick Moynahan and General Colin Powell.  It was thrilling.  Another time I sat inches away from Stevie Wonder as he belted out his greatest hits to a private audience of 100 or so. It was a toe-tapping good time.

Of course, such moments happen but once in a great while, and a lot of mundane stuff fills the in-between times.  If you have the good luck, or misfortune, to serve as the president’s executive assistant, in addition to the mundane you perform a dizzying variety of “other duties as assigned.” This can mean picking up presidential offspring at daycare, folding laundry, and taking trips to the car wash–all tasks assorted EA’s, all of the PhD’s, tell me they have undertaken.

Being an executive assistant does not require a doctoral degree (although it might help), but it does demand that the amanuensis have a high degree of stamina.  The president I worked for once asked me to leap out of his car at a tollbooth on the New Jersey Turnpike in order to retrieve his briefcase from the trunk, an act for which foolhardiness, or a death wish, as opposed to stamina, was requisite, I suppose.  One executive assistant I knew managed to combine foolhardiness with stamina in pursuit of her extra duties.  She and the president’s spouse took two-hour liquid lunch breaks, imbibing various spirits to fuel their gossip about college employees.  As you can imagine, this career move  earned the EA great respect from her colleagues. And a big raise from her boss.  Go figure.

Decisions, decisions...what's for lunch?

These days former Executive Assistant to the President Pamela Reid, late in service to retiring Mills College President Janet Holmgren, has a lot of time on her hands to figure out how she lost her job.  Poor Pamela.  One hot August day last summer her career in higher education went to the dogs.  Specifically, to President Holmgren’s dogs, a pack that included Chihuahua-terrier mix Holly. Holly sank her dainty fangs into a toothsome bit of Pam’s left ankle as the EA was attempting to ready the president’s house for a fund-raising event.  California law makes no bones about it: victims of snack-happy canines are to report the bite to animal control; Pamela did and that’s when things turned vicious.

Holly welcomes visitors to the president's house.

According to her wrongful-termination suit, filed in Alameda County Court, after she reported the injury, Ms. Reid soon went from top dog on the president’s staff to permanently ensconced resident in the dog house.  Says Ms. Reid, “I got nasty-grams.”  The torment continued for five months, until Ms. Reid was “laid-off.”  

You know as well as I that at age 62, Pamela Reid will have a hard time finding a new job.  In today’s market, not many employers will give an old dog even the opportunity to learn new tricks, so it’ll probably be a long time before Pam lands a new position, a dog’s age I would estimate.  Her suit may be “meritless,” as the college of course claims, but I can understand her dogged pursuit for justice.  She should know, though, that looking for compassion from a college president is really, really barking up the wrong tree.

Ms. Reid searches in vain to be treated fairly.

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Profiles in Academic Courage and Class: Robert Paul Wolff

I have been following the kerfuffle surrounding a recent blog post by The New Republic editor-in-chief Martin Peretz and the consternation it has caused within academic circles with amused interest.  The timing of this dust-up could not be more exquisite, for Peretz is about to be honored by Harvard, his alma mater and employer.  Marty, who is also a benefactor of Harvard, being as he is a major donor and a member of the faculty, landed in hot water because he wrote

But, frankly, Muslim life is cheap, most notably to Muslims. And among those Muslims led by the Imam Rauf there is hardly one who has raised a fuss about the routine and random bloodshed that defines their brotherhood. So, yes, I wonder whether I need honor these people and pretend that they are worthy of the privileges of the First Amendment which I have in my gut the sense that they will abuse.

Needless to say, them fightin’ words gave NYT opiner, sensitive Nicholas Kristof, a bad case of the vapors, which he relieved by firing back in his Sunday, September 12 column with incite-full words of his own, “For a glimpse of how venomous and debased the discourse about Islam has become, consider [Martin Peretz's] blog post in The New Republic this month.”

Nicholas Kristof (r) reminds Martin Peretz to watch his p's and q's.

Venomous? Debased? Aren’t those terms more rightly applied to the activities of certain Muslims, the activities that might’ve led Peretz to his conclusion? The sectarian violence in Pakistan, Iraq, Egypt, Nigeria, Somalia, for example. The Muslim-on-Muslim attacks that generally result in bombed-out mosques replete with the late worshippers’ assorted body parts in such disarray so as to suggest that the “religion of peace” is actually the “religion in pieces.” Peretz couldn’t possibly have had that in mind when he wrote those words. Nor is it likely he was thinking about the many ways in which Muslim girls and women are killed in the name of family honor. When it comes to the final solution for flirtatious females, only the imagination limits the choices available to the dissed fathers, sons and brothers: beheading, stoning, burying alive, hacking, flinging acid at the offender. Take your pick. They do. Nicholas Kristof apparently doesn’t like to think about that, so he resorts to name-calling those who dare state the obvious.

Also offended by what Peretz had to say is University of Massachusetts-Amherst professor Robert Paul Wolff.  In his blog, Wolff wrote:

Back in 1960, Marty was an egregious little wannabe hanger-on to the group of young proto-lefties who called ourselves “The New Left Club of Cambridge,” but subsequently, he married money, bought The New Republic, and turned that fine old progressive magazine into a flack for the State of Israel. Marty has done well for himself, if you ignore the sort of person he is. It seems there is a Martin Peretz Professorship of Yiddish Literature at Harvard, no less. A scholarship fund will now be set up in his name at Harvard, and he will be honored at the lunch.

When I heard that I was going to be sharing the podium with Marty, I thought seriously about canceling. I don’t know how much time I have left on this earth, and somehow spending even a lunch of it in the presence of Marty Peretz doesn’t strike me as a good use of my time. But I am genuinely proud of my small role in the establishment of Social Studies, and besides, Susie and I have arranged to have dinner Friday evening with our old friends, Milton Cantor and Margaret Taylor. So we will go.

The good professor will deign to accept his honor, but not without setting stern, non-negotiable conditions: “I told Anya Bernstein, the current Head of Social Studies, that I was well brought up and will behave myself at the lunch, but I begged her not to seat me next to Marty at the head table.” Can’t you picture Professor Wolff stomping his foot in high dudgeon and, yes, with righteous indignation as he laid down the law to Dr. Bernstein?

Professor Wolff: I get so jeal--er,--mad when I think about Marty Peretz.

There is no figure more risible than the academic whose tenured status relieves him of the obligation to be accountable for his behavior, or even to have the thought enter his head that the standards to which he holds others apply to him too. Well, maybe there is one more risible: the professor who won’t let his principles stand in the way of chowing down on a free lunch.

Dr. Bernstein agreed to Professor Wolff's demand to seat Martin Peretz elsewhere.

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A “Chronicle of Higher Education” Expose! Kinky Sex and the English (of course) Professor!

I could retell the story of Associate Professor Lisa Chavez, the English Department’s resident dominatrix at the University of New Mexico. It’s the tale of a poor creative writing teacher who, post-divorce, turns to phone sex to raise quick cash for the mortgage payment. Phone sex soon turns to sadomasochistic photo shoots with lowly graduate students.

The story reaches its crisis when the departmental chair discovers how Professor Chavez aka Mistress Jade, “a stern teacher ready to punish unruly students,” has been supplementing her niggardly salary. When confronted with her unseemly behavior, the professor/mistress had a ready defense: DISCRIMINATION! You are discriminating against me because I am Hispanic! Because I am bixsexual!

But if I told you this story, you might think I was embellishing a boring and predictable tale of intra-departmental warfare of the kind English Departments everywhere have made their signature strife. So I am urging you to go to the source and read Chronicle yourself. You won’t be sorry you did.

And when we're done conjugating verbs, we can....

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Imam Rauf: Consummate Wordsmith

Many years ago, when I taught composition and literature to first- and second-year college students, I’d spend some time talking about what writers of prose could learn from poets: thrifty use of language, nuanced phrasing, the sound of the words and how they look on the page. I’d like to think those lessons served my students well, not only as writers but also as readers.

Looking for poetry in prose is my habitual way of reading, and, as is true in so many avenues of life, I often find what I seek. Such was certainly true when I settled down to read the remarks Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf addressed on September 13 to the Council on Foreign Relations. His words are exquisitely chosen, eloquent and evocative. His words, precise and economical, bespeak the gift of education America bestowed upon this naturalized son. No wonder, I thought, this man is a teacher; no wonder his influence spans the globe. Read his text along with me, and see for yourself.

Imam Rauf begins his address with his autobiography, the oft-told tale of upper-class-kid-comes-to-America-and-makes-good-following-in-his-highly-educated-father’s-footsteps.

The young immigrant steams into New York Harbor.

From there, to establish further context, he compares American Muslims with “other groups and faiths [that] have found themselves targets of such prejudice — Jews and Catholics, Irish and Italians, blacks and Hispanics.” He continues the comparison, enriching his point by quoting the civil rights anthem/gospel song “We Shall Overcome”: “in time each group has overcome these challenges, and [America’s] core values have been affirmed. We must overcome. We shall overcome. Now it is our turn, as Muslims, to drink from this cup.”

This photo documents the sad history of racism in America.

So does this photo.

Prejudice knows no color lines.

The imam’s metaphor helps us to see that Americans who subscribe to the Muslim faith are no different in their suffering today than black Americans in Mississippi who nearly fifty years ago won their voting rights facing down a brace of attack dogs, or young black students in South Carolina who suffered mightily for the simple right to buy lunch at a five-and-ten counter. Reaching farther back into history, and using folks from another hue in the rainbow community of victimhood, the imam’s reference to Irish-Americans turned away from jobs because they “need not apply” recalls the torment of contemporary Muslim Americans who everyday must endure the humiliation of “no dogs, no Muslims” signs in every Manhattan shop window.

Proving that we all are in the struggle together, through his use of metaphor and allusion, the imam then makes his argument in favor of locating the Cordoba Institute in a building damaged on 9.11.2001 by flying debris from one of the two airplanes that was that day driven into the World Trade Center. Admittedly, the insult to the structure that had once housed a Burlington Coat Factory was nothing in comparison the fires caused by exploding jet fuel and eventual collapse of the twin towers, but Park 51 nevertheless bears the scars of that terrible day.

All of that is in the past, though, and we need to move on so as not to become mired in the gooey, overwrought fanaticism of the friends and families of those who died on 9.11. Says the imam of those who oppose his urban renewal plans, “We must not let the extremists, whatever their faith, whatever their political persuasion, hijack the discourse and hijack the media. That only fuels greater extremism.” By rhetorically linking the 9.11 survivors with the 9.11 pilots through careful, deliberate word-choice (emphasis added), the imam gives us an enlightening glimpse into his heart and mind. A glimpse that is augmented when he continues, “genuine understanding can only happen when there is honesty, sincerity of motive, and an open heart. For when issues are politicized or used as fodder for commentators on the right or on the left, we just pour fuels on the flames of misunderstanding.”

As a man of letters, Imam Rauf is aware of the significance of how he says what he says; in fact he comments on the importance of words during his remarks, stating “From experience, I can tell you, talking can be powerful. As Churchill said, better to jaw-jaw than to war-war.” He makes this point even more forcefully when he exhorts “You, the media, can fuel the radicals or you can limit their airtime.” The use of the word “airtime” is particularly poetic, in that it means “broadcast time” but is highly suggestive of in-flight time, or time spent in the air.

As his remarks draw to a close, the imam says,

In recent days, some people have asked is there really a need for an Islamic community center in Lower Manhattan? Is it worth all this firestorm?

The answer, ladies and gentlemen, is a categorical yes. Why? Because this center will be a place for all faiths to come together as partners, as stakeholders in mutual respect. It will bring honor to the city of New York, to American Muslims across the country and to Americans all over the world.

Again, the imam’s choice of the poetic “firestorm” is worthy of a moment’s reflection on its dual meaning of protest and the intentional consequence of lobbing a bomb or other explosive device.

Readers tend to cut poets a lot of slack; we’re fascinated by the words they choose, and can spend many hours pondering why one word is chosen over another. When we see patterns in a text—“hijack” at least five times and “fuel” at least four appearing in the imam’s talk, for example—we wonder what point such repetition is meant to convey.

I wonder.

In the spirit of the imam’s call for spiritual partnership, I too will borrow some words from Winston Churchill, the same Churchill Imam Rauf quotes. History, Churchill said, is written by the victors.

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Abusing History Can Be Laugh-Out-Loud Funny

Just ask Nicholas Kristof of the New York Times. He writes, magnanimously and patronizingly, that most of those who oppose building an Islamic center and mosque in a building damaged in the attacks of 9/11 aren’t “bigots”; they’re merely ‘fraidy cats in the long tradition of “patriots [who fear] that newcomers don’t share their values, don’t believe in democracy, and may harm innocent Americans.”

Sage Advice from Nicholas Kristof

These petrified patriots are just like their 19th and 20th century forebears who were terrified that gin-swilling Irish Catholics would snatch good Protestant babies out of their prams for a clandestine dip in the baptismal font. Today’s sissified citizens trace their ancestry to the good people who hid their daughters in fear of polygamist Mormons on the hunt for fresh woman-flesh. Or so says Kristof, who acknowledges that “[h]istorically, unreal suspicions were sometimes rooted in genuine and significant differences. Many new Catholic immigrants lacked experience in democracy. Mormons were engaged in polygamy.” Then, Kristof delivers his punch line: “And today some extremist Muslims do plot to blow up planes, and Islam has real problems to work out about the rights of women.”

Is it just me, or is Kristof’s equation of 1) unfamiliarity with democracy and 2) the practice of bigamy with 3) mass murder just a little off the mark? Think about it: “Some” Catholic immigrants needed to adjust to a new form of government. Early Mormons had eccentric ideas about marriage. And today, Muslim extremists fly planes into buildings and kill their teenaged daughters for wearing blue jeans. Gee, I sure see the similarity among these put-upon groups.

Americans used to be afraid of this.

And this.

Today we are afraid of this.

His tortured analogy breaks down further when he writes:

Followers of these movements against Irish, Germans, Italians, Chinese and other immigrants were mostly decent, well-meaning people trying to protect their country.…Most Americans stayed on the sidelines during these spasms of bigotry, and only a small number of hoodlums killed or tormented Catholics, Mormons or others.

I can’t recall any incidents of Moslems being “killed” or “tormented” by American “hoodlums” because of the controversy over the cultural center/mosque. Can you? Do you, like me, find it offensive that Kristof insinuates that “most Americans…on the sidelines” of the debate about the proposed Islamic center are in reality enabling bad guys who would do harm to followers of Mohammed?

If you don’t, you should.

Reading Nicholas Kristof: so funny I forgot to laugh.

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Board of Governors, 1; Quincy College, 0

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

College presidents come and go, too. Some, as in the case of Liberal Arts College USA, blessedly sooner rather than later. As the door slams on his retreating derriere, let us pause to contemplate the achievements of his short-lived tenure. It’ll be but a brief pause, given that his meager accomplishments are easily summarized as 1) rooting out and eliminating all staff guilty of AWF—Administering While Female—2) larding the payroll with hangers-on, friends of friends, and parasitic common-law spouses of ill-advised trophy hires and 3) bloating the organizational chart with ever-more grandiose titles for exceptionally ordinary functionaries. But at least the talented new president has no need to sweep away any half-baked plans or initiatives as she takes on the daunting task of rebuilding LCA, her predecessor having thoughtfully left the planning tabula utterly, totally, completely rasa.

Sometimes, though, college presidents depart before they even arrive. Take, for example, the rollicking saga of one Philip Conroy, the man who until yesterday aspired to the top job at Quincy College in Quincy, Massachusetts. QC is a public two-year institution; this is important for you to keep in mind. Back in June, QC’s board of governors, in a tight 6-5 vote, recommended that Mr. Conroy be offered the college’s presidency. Mr. Conroy, a vice president at an independent two-year college in the Commonwealth eagerly accepted. The appointment seemed to make a lot of sense. After all, Mr. Conroy is a native son of Quincy, and he has administrative experience in both public and private higher education, including at the university level, which gives him an important dual perspective on transfer issues of students seeking to continue their educations after community college enrollment.

Yesterday, however, the Patriot-Ledger printed an excerpt from a letter Mr. Conroy had just written to the board: “’It has become increasingly clear to me that the board of governors is unable to unite behind a new president,’” Conroy’s letter reads. ‘(W)hile the offer of the position was extended there has been no movement toward a contract. Therefore, it is with a profound sense of sadness and disappointment that I respectfully decline the offer to serve as president of Quincy College.’” One might quibble about whether “decline” is the right verb, given that what the board offered Mr. Conroy included apparently nothing in return for the services he was willing to render.

A pirated copy of Mr. Conroy's contract, rescued from the briny waters of the Fore River.

The board members were too busy fighting amongst themselves to devise a contract for the hapless Mr. Conroy. The close vote that brought him to the brink of the presidency he was ultimately denied bespeaks the kind of high-stakes intrigue public institutions in Massachusetts are so famous for. It seems Mr. Conroy’s closest competition for the position was Peter Tsaffaras, Esq., Director of Employee Relations and Benefit Administration for the Massachusetts Board of Education, and former member of the Quincy College Board of Governors. Cozy, no? The summer months in Quincy sizzled from heat generated by the procedural maneuvers, scheduling chicanery, and character assassination that emanated from the board.

As one who has watch similar dramas unfold, I can say with great assurance that there are few fights as nasty, no tactics so dirty as those the bottom feeders feasting at the public chum in the Massachusetts pond politic employ when attempting to move themselves or their cronies up the food chain. It makes those who engage in the superfluous nepotism of certain private institutions look like the bush league players they are.

LCA's buy two, get one deal.

Mr. Conroy will remain the vice president of the college that currently employs him. I don’t know the man, but I wish him well, and would advise him and any other potential candidates for the presidency of Quincy College to stay far away until the board’s feeding frenzy is over and the ragged claws of the governors are busy scuttling across the floors of silent seas to the more hospitable waters of the Turnpike Authority.

Mr. Conroy meets his competition.

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