|cobbled by Cal|
My T&P meeting was a formality. I was told this for the past 2 years. My colleagues assured me I'd done enough, that my pubs and teaching were in line. Those "mattered."
Living my own way, 30 miles out of town on a ranch, is the most important part of my mental well being. I can't live in a city or a small town. My nature is that of a cowboy. Color me all sorts of odd if it helps.
So, the 10% of my T&P about "community involvement" didn't seem to faze those folks who advised and mentored me through 5 1/2 years. "Not to worry," they said. "You're aces," another said.
I had my two part interview late last week, and I had my Dean's meeting this morning.
The Dean is a nice fella, not someone I know very well, but someone who seems decent and kind.
He was wringing his hands when I sat down, and I knew there was trouble when he began to speak about my colleague Steady and Supportive Stan. Stan is a cipher. Bootlicking cipher. Can't leave that out.
The Dean told me that Stan was an object lesson in the T&P wars, someone who was "visible" on campus, who "gave everything" of himself to clubs and committees and organizations. It was he I was measured against, that was the point.
And I said, "What committees and organizations have I turned down? I do exactly what the chair asks me to do. I chaired a committee last year."
"Yes," the Dean said, "Of course." But that's the minimum, really. We like everything about you, but Stan and others like him really drive this institution. They are the heart of it."
It was decided. I knew it made no difference to talk about my work as it related to Stan's paltry production - though I had winning cards there of every color. I just nodded at his instructions, about how much time I had left, the process, the procedure.
Oh, how they would miss my teaching and research. Oh, what a loss, etc.
Stan? Well, he'll still be here, of course, after I'm gone. The ranch I'll have to sell. A new job I will have to find.
And it's bullshit.