20181112.0430

Across a couple of days not long ago, in one of the roleplaying games in which I participate, a couple of things happened that I get to experience fairly often--things I am sure my erstwhile colleagues get to experience, as well. In one instance, a person with whom I play online remarked--in jest, admittedly--"Being a professor is easy. You just wear bad ties and sleep with hot girls to fix their grades. That or hunt down artefacts in exotic locations with a trusty sidekick and a whip." Later, another of my fellow gamers commented "I wonder if I should worry more about my grammar now we have an english prof hanging around [sic]." While I replied that "I don't work when I'm off the clock," which is true, it joined the earlier incident to give me cause to consider some of the strangeness in how the professoriate, particularly the humanities professoriate I tried without success to enter, is regarded in the world outside.
I've not looked into the matter in nearly the detail Timothy Carens does in a College English article I've referenced any number of times ("Serpents in the Garden," so you know). But I have encountered the viewpoints repeatedly that the work of teaching is easy--and the work of teaching at the college level, particularly for a for-profit, where "I paid for my A" is the perceived rule of the day is easier--and that English teachers at all levels act from compulsion to "fix" people's grammar. (Not that what most folks call grammar is grammar, and not that their "fixes" to arbitrary and capricious systems are objectively correct.) And there is some justification, to be sure. Teaching work is done largely inside, and there's not much heavy lifting. (There does seem to be a risk of getting shot that appears more prominent, now, though.) Those called to teach tend to experience it as a calling, and those who respond to calls tend to be engaged with them most or all of the time. (The parallel is to clergy, from whose ranks Western academics descend.) But it is also the case that the work of the classroom demands much time and effort outside of it, far more than is seen and more than is recognized by those outside; it is also the case that that time tends to restrict outside outlets, and with their lack comes a necessary focus on what is had.
The further away from a full-time career in academe I get, though, the more aware I am of what I lacked while pursuing it. I am more fortunate than many in that I got to have time with Ms. 8 in her earliest days, but I also remember that much of the time I was with her saw my attention divided between her infant needs and the demands of work I was doing--not all of which was directed to her support and her mother's. There was much I missed as I was locked away at work on my research--and with that having come to naught, or as close to it as makes no difference, I find I have a fair bit to regret. It's why, anymore, I work to not work when I'm not on the clock. I don't always succeed, but things are better than they were.

(As an aside, my post from yesterday is not incomplete.)