Don’t know about horrible, but definitely a weakling.

I used to be an academic - a professor. I could spend all day penning horror stories about universities, especially academic politics.

I’d been teaching logic, a major course offering, on a year-by-year contract renewable for up to four years and with the possibility of conversion to tenure-track during the final year. Tenure-track = permanent job security in academia (assuming you’re not arrested for a crime or accused, er, of sexual harassment or something like that). It’s the standard goal of anyone who goes into university teaching.

During this period I published an average of over one article per year in refereed journals while teaching a full load (four classes per semester). Among my practices was keeping test files for students. They did this in addition to regular assignments, and the practice compelled me to keep my creative edge, as my own system would not allow me to give the same tests over and over again. It forced me to write new ones. I should add that students tended to do well in my class if they worked at it. I tended to give around six A’s per section and would have argued that the students had earned them. No one said my class was easy.

What I didn’t know was that I had a hidden enemy: the other major logic professor. He did not have the best reputation, and students did not learn from him. Moreover, during drop-add, students tended to drop his class and add mine if they could. The word on campus was: “If you take logic, get Yates, not Brown [his name].” Doubtless this got back to him. He wasn’t stupid.

But when the time came for my promotion, it wasn’t there. At the start of what turned out to be my final year at this university I instead received a letter informing me that my effort at being promoted had been turned down. I was “thanked” for my “service to the institution,” etc., etc.

The letter’s final paragraph contained what can only be described as a threat: not to challenge this decision by “your colleagues” because such action “could follow you elsewhere.” The letter wasn’t signed. I had to conclude that someone had considered the possibility that I might talk to a lawyer about a wrongful termination suit.

When I wanted to know from the department chair what had happened, as he’d actually told me not to apply for jobs elsewhere during this period, he told me “your colleagues” had opted not to pursue my candidacy. This while not looking me in the eye.

I found another teaching job. And learned the truth … two years later. This one person, the other logic teacher, had gone behind my back to block my candidacy for advancement. What got back to me were four devastating words: “We can do better.” He’d not elaborated.

There were no other “colleagues” opposing me, but according to the university’s by-laws I needed the unanimous support of the tenured faculty to win admission to their exclusive club.

The weakling department chair, who knew of my credentials, had not lifted a finger to defend my interests, as was his responsibility.

I never trusted senior faculty again after that … and after a few years, was no longer seeking permanent teaching positions. On the basis of this and several other incidents involving unscrupulous elders (not all of them things that happened to me, some happened to friends of mine) I’d taken to warning anyone who asked for career advice against pursuing university teaching. When the opportunity came to leave teaching (a story in itself), I jumped at it.