Archive for May 29th, 2018

Sent to Chairs

amywink May 29th, 2018

Several weeks ago, I signed up for FUMC’s Saturday Work Day because I had the time and I enjoy the company of the people I knew would also be serving. I have also fallen hard for the beautiful, stately old church and wanted to show my care for the building that has offered me sanctuary and the creative spirit that has opened me again since I walked in after a 40+ year absence from church. I had no ambitions or designs for the day, I just showed up to serve. And when I arrived, I had no assignment so, as with all other unassigned, I was “Sent to Chairs.”

It sounded more like a sentence than a task: “Those found wanting will be Sent to Chairs.” I laughed.

Because I’m also am recovering academic, it also made me think of Chairs of committees, Chairs of departments and the deifying honors: “Holder of The Famous Name Endowed Chair of . . . ” and again, I was amused that I was “Sent to Chairs”, which actually meant I was sent to clean the chairs in the Great Hall of Family Life Center —which serves also as a basketball court, music venue, meeting room, and the Feed my People Breakfast for the Homeless. A Great Hall indeed, which serves in many different ways, great and humble.

I accepted my modest assignment, cleaning the chairs with the very loud carpet/upholstery cleaner, of which there were 4 in employment. Since chatting with people was impossible in the cacophony of the machines, I put in my ear buds and listened to music and began to practice the presence of God that Brother Lawrence so highly recommends (also recommended by the book Sweeping Changes as a meditative Buddhist practice of mindfulness).

Here I was, Dr. Wink, contemplating the humble task of cleaning our chairs, which also humbly served so many experiencing homelessness who come to eat breakfast each Tuesday and Thursday morning. I smiled because I knew some would find the task beneath me and I knew people who would definitely think it was beneath them!

I contemplated this idea of rank and hierarchy, pondering what it meant that Dr. Wink, Full Professor (Adjunct), Published Author of 2 Books and Presenter of Papers at Professional Conferences might also be Amy, cleaner of chairs, teacher, writer, poet, gardener, friend, carriage driver, and the countless other human things I am that people forget when they see the title.

My title sometimes precedes me and more than once, people say “but you’re a professor!” having set me up in a pretty small box of their making, as if I cannot also be a human being. Yes, I am a professor, which in the simplest terms means “I profess” a particular thing, in my case, I profess literature and writing. I love literature and writing. I have become a professional because of my love for words. It is not a love that is financially rewarded in our culture. My diploma declares that I have been “admitted to that Degree with all the honors, rights, and privileges belonging thereto.” Some days, those are many; some days, they are all quite elusive.

But the image of The Professor is also one that limits me and I don’t always like to announce my degree because it divides me from people in a way that I did not imagine when I pursued it. Sometimes people announce me before I have a chance to say “Wait! Don’t!” And suddenly I am Dr. Wink when I’d rather just be Amy.

People often assume that because I earned a PhD (and I earned it with blood, sweat, toil, tears and blinding panic attacks so I also own it when it’s important) that I look down on people who do not have this terminal degree (and it is *terminal* in more ways than one). I don’t. I didn’t pursue my degree thinking of what others might think. Those who start the degree with this idea will soon find that this will never get you through the lion’s den that is graduate school or the fiery furnace of the dissertation, or the forty years in the desert of the job search and tenure process —and most never reach the promised land (if you don’t think the Biblical metaphors are appropriate, ask an academic).

You have to do it because you love it, because you can’t not do it, because you are compelled to do it, as if it were a calling you cannot refuse. And you have to love the work, not the rewards of the work and the work is the joyous pursuit and sharing of knowledge, something that is more and more elusive in higher education today. And I know people who very wisely chose mental health over the degree, who may have felt the calling and said “you know, no thanks.” I respect that. Part of me wishes I could have done that, but the degree has brought me here and here I am, despite my complicated relationship to the doctorate.

So as I sat cleaning chairs, I thought of my “academic” work, teaching students as an adjunct at a community college, which is worthy but financially unrewarded work. I am a working-class academic with the highest professional title and experience that “should” warrant a different position. It “should” and yet it didn’t. I “should” and yet, I can’t because I am entirely broken because of my experiences. I was reminded how broken this week, when I attended a reading by an academic and found myself collapsing inward and looking for the door by the time the reading was over. This was not the reaction I anticipated but it was a very important warning about the new directions I am considering and the broken self I will need to tend while I travel them.

This is an interesting place to be, this new place where experience and education do not lead to profession “success” in the way that professional success has been defined. I also have to remind people that “adjunct” does not mean unqualified and categorizing those of us who remain in these positions, are not the “great unwashed” or unqualified to do the work. I have, in my long journey, gratefully set aside ambition and chosen to value the work I have because I value learning and love teaching. I want my students, who often come with terrible educational experiences, to know that I value them and they deserve a professor who has earned the highest degree and still happily serves those entering college at this humble point of entry.

And as I sat cleaning chairs, thinking of our homeless guests who come to eat breakfast every week, thinking of how devalued and demeaned they are in our culture, how we do not know the stories of how they arrived at this place because of what happened to them, whether because of their own mistakes or the mistakes of others, or simply the things that happened over which they had no control. We do not like to think of them not only as our neighbors because that would mean they are also ourselves and that is terrifying. What if all the work we do to “be successful” means nothing in the end? What if everything we work to “achieve” does not keep us from being afraid? What if no matter what we’ve tried to do, we are suddenly homeless? What if we are no longer seen?

It doesn’t seem like much to give, a clean chair on which to sit while eating a warm breakfast. And yet, here is a chair on which someone may rest for a short time. A clean chair of which we believe any one is worthy and also food we think everyone deserves because they are human beings. We, also human beings, are here to help, no matter how ranked we are by the worldly ideas of culture. Here is a chair that I, Dr. Wink, cleaned so someone I do not know may sit for breakfast. Here is the chair that I, Amy, cleaned so someone might rest. I think of my no-longer homeless friend returned now to her home in another state, who sat in these chairs for breakfast, who attended the First Steps class with me when I decided to join First, who I made sure to see and always made sure to remind that she was brave.

Because we are all one in Christ, “there is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” (Galatians 3:28)