Month: October 2022

UH-OH:  An associate professor at the University of California at Berkeley recently admitted that, for years, she has falsely claimed indigenous heritage.  Her research focuses on Native American food systems and food sovereignty (Indianz.com, Oct. 21st).  

Now, the entire house of cards she constructed over the course of her career is toppling. 

Three days ago, the supposedly indigenous foods that the professor frequently displayed at academic conferences came forward to announce that they are not what they appear to be.  The following is a partial list of the impostors, with sham identities in quotes and true identities in parentheses:

— “Sweet potatoes” → (Yams)

— “Wild rice” → (Basmati)

— “Squash”→ (Gourds)

— “Corn” → (Peas)

— “Beans” → (Varnished Spam nuggets) 

— “Peanuts” → (Beans)

— “Avocados” → (Genetically modified raisins)

— “Pumpkins” → (Watermelons)

When asked by a reporter why they assumed false food identities for so many years, the group’s lawyer responded, “hell, the professor always had a Bowie knife and ball-peen hammer hidden in a tool belt under her blazer at public events, and she wasn’t afraid to use them.  What would you have done under those circumstances if you were an unarmed yam?”

 

TRUE FACT:  Following Tennessee’s stunning 52-49 gridiron victory over Alabama last Saturday, fans of the winning team tore down the goalposts and threw one of them into the Tennessee River.

Although this incident might raise a few bemused eyebrows, it doesn’t come close to delivering the wallop of surprise provided by two notorious campus celebrations of the 1970s.  

In 1970, Paul Samuelson became the first American to win the Nobel Prize in Economics.  The award was announced while his colleagues in the MIT Economics Department were eating lunch in the faculty dining room.  Upon hearing the news, these professors proceeded to riot — upending tables, engaging in a food fight that lasted over an hour, and building a huge bonfire with chairs and drapes that triggered the building’s sprinkler system. 

Campus police arrested 14 professors for vandalism, with 3 of those individuals serving 6 months in jail for assaulting (biting) the officers who were attempting to subdue them.

In the wake of the disturbance, MIT instituted a no-alcohol policy in the faculty dining room that is still in force, 52 years later.   

In a 2004 interview, Samuelson expressed regret that his departmental colleagues had celebrated his achievement in such a destructive fashion:  “I mean, these folks had PhDs from some of the most prestigious institutions on the planet.  I just don’t get it.  You can’t go around biting people.”

A mere five years after the MIT incident, an even more shocking event took place at Seton Hall University in South Orange, New Jersey.  

On September 14, 1975, Elizabeth Ann Seton became the first American-born individual to be canonized by the Catholic Church.  Seton had founded a congregation of Catholic nuns — the Sisters of Charity — in 1809.  

Approximately 30 members of the Sisters of Charity were sitting in an Advanced Theology class on the Seton Hall campus when Seton’s sainthood was announced by the instructor.  According to one witness, “the sisters went absolutely nuts, whooping like a pack of wild coyotes on crystal meth.”

The women burst out of the classroom and ran onto the campus quadrangle, overturning trash barrels and lassoing students with their oversized rosaries.  They did somersaults, cartwheels, and backflips.  Several of them engaged in what is known as “nun-splatting,” in which a sister runs full speed into the wall of a building, and then collapses in a throbbing, pulsating heap.  During the chaos, three gardeners on the school’s facilities staff were temporarily taken hostage and tickled with pigeon feathers until they became incontinent.  

Afterward, none of the nuns could recall doing any of these things.  Nadine Werb, Professor of Nun Psychology at Georgetown University, notes that displays of such frenzied behavior are not uncommon in religious communities.  According to Werb, “the typical female member of a Catholic religious order is a tightly wound bundle of repressed libidinal energy — enough energy to power a Toyota Corolla for a full day at 65 miles per hour.  Every once in a while, some of that energy is unleashed, and all hell breaks loose.”

Wow.  

It will probably surprise no one that “mentoring, committee work, and other campus service disproportionately burden women” at colleges and universities across the country (Chronicle of Higher Education, October 5th online).

But there are exceptions.  

Consider the University of Montana at Missoula.  

Every fall, shortly before the hibernation season begins, the U of M English Department hosts its annual Grizzly Bear Roast.  Featuring Rotisserie Brown Bear, corn on the cob, and candied yams, the Roast has been a department tradition for over 70 years.  

Responsibility for tracking, shooting, and preparing bears for the spit rests exclusively with the male members of the English Department.  

“It’s not fair,” claims Greg Lertz, an assistant professor who participated in his first grizzly bear hunt in the fall of 2021, losing his left arm in the process.  “I had absolutely zero experience with guns before being hired by the University of Montana, and I certainly had never hunted a grizzly bear.  When I came face-to-face with one in the woods last fall, I froze, and the damn thing ripped my left arm right out of its socket and started beating me with it.  Thank God one of my colleagues took the bear out with one shot; he saved my life.”  

Over the years nearly a dozen English professors have died during the hunt, including a few who perished after falling down deep ravines while being chased by bears.  Thus far the most notable fatality has been Grayson Twenge, whose 2006 biography of Vladimir Nabokov won a Pultizer Prize.  Professor Twenge was killed when he accidentally discharged his rifle while stepping out of his Prius at the hunt staging area in the Lolo National Forest parking lot. 

According to associate professor Lance Gepperman, “what makes this males-only tradition so insane is that a number of our female professors are much better than the men when it comes to handling firearms.  Hell, take Arlene.  Three years ago she dispatched both her husband and his mistress with a single bullet.  Granted, the two victims were locked in a tight embrace in bed at the time, so it wasn’t that much of a challenge, but still…”

When asked to comment on the gendered nature of the annual bear hunt, U of M President Seth Bodnar smiled and replied, “this is Montana, my friend, and in Montana we consider men to be the hunter/gatherers.  Every male applicant for a faculty position in our English Department is informed of the expectations that govern the bear hunt.  If a so-called ‘man’ is uncomfortable with those expectations, he should apply for a position at Williams, Princeton, or Berkeley, where baking scones for Sunday salons is the main extracurricular activity of English professors.” 

FOLLOW-UP:  University Life contacted the Human Resources Department at the University of Montana and confirmed the accuracy of President Bodnar’s assertion concerning the English Department’s application process.  

Trisalyn Nelson’s recent article, “10 Ways to Rebuild Department Culture,” is a valuable resource for those wishing to infuse their departments with a renewed sense of community in the aftermath of COVID (Chronicle of Higher Education, September 26th online).  

However, if you really want to attain a level of camaraderie that is the envy of your colleagues, consider the following five suggestions:

—  At least once a week lead your department faculty on a march around the campus, loudly repeating a self-promoting chant.  For example, here’s a favorite of political scientists at the University of Arizona:

OH ME, OH MY

WE BE POLI SCI

WE’RE COOL, NOT CRUEL

DAMN RIGHT WE RULE THIS SCHOOL!

Can’t get it out of your mind, can you?

—  At the beginning of department meetings, employ intense icebreakers to establish lasting bonds (e.g., “Let’s go around the table and have each person tell us a little bit about their first sexual experience with a willing partner.  Fran, why don’t you start?”)

—  Hold monthly slumber parties where department members consume vast quantities of sangria and use burner phones to make harassing calls to despised high-level university administrators (“Hello, Dean Fryzell?  You suck!”).  Make sure to invest in a high-quality voice-distortion device.  (You can get one online for under $40.)

—  As the Fall semester draws to a close, have your department put on a Nativity play for the entire campus, with every department member on stage for the Bethlehem manger scene at the end.  To ensure inclusion and avoid controversy, replace the Three Wise Men with Muhammad, Buddha, and Tom Brady (in uniform, presenting the Baby Jesus with an autographed football).  

—  Nothing brings people together like a common enemy.  On behalf of your department, sue your school’s Board of Trustees.  The specifics of the lawsuit don’t matter, but insufficient parking, malfunctioning vending machines, and stale dinner rolls in the faculty dining room are all fair game.  Pick any grievance that works for you.

Your colleagues are waiting.  Start leading.