Comma Dot Comma

What is government for? One (probably) positive outcome of the dragged-out-to-the-point-of-utter-numbness political campaigning is that it has caused me to stop and think through (a bit) what I actually believe the role of government to be. I have gut reactions to certain issues and I can think through my arguments on those issues, but I’ve not carefully considered the underlying political beliefs before. An interesting article on the morals of politics also contributed to this line of thought. So here’s a tentative sketch.

1. The primary purpose of democratic/republic government is to protect the freedom of its people to live their lives unmolested: that includes citizens and residents without the rights of full citizenship, such as children, legal immigrants, and those who are incapacitated by law or circumstance (prisoners, the mentally ill).

This means governmental provisions to protect us from external threats. (Not necessarily a standing army– diplomacy, drafts, readiness to stand firm when necessary.)

It also means protection within, when acting on our own freedoms causes harm or unnecessarily restricts the freedom of others. So basic policing and a criminal justice system are necessary, as are laws forbidding property crimes, violence, fraud, and some environmental damage. No consequence of lawbreaking should permanently rescind the right to life, or the right to vote.

Freedom and justice, the two biggies.

2. The government is the best vehicle for collective action by the people of the nation. When a majority of people or their elected representatives decide that we value something and want to undertake a project to express that value, the govt. and taxation is the way to go. For example, we value having a reliable network of highways. A perfect project for the government to build and maintain. Other examples– funding for medical research, aid money and intervention in poor countries in Africa. The caveat to this function of government is that it should not enact any projects or plans that conflict with role #1. Thus the Japanese-American internment camps of WWII were wrong, because they caused harm and restricted the freedom of people the govt was supposed to protect, even though a many leaders (including the president) were in favor of it. The government should not neglect its duty to protect the freedom of anyone, regardless of how risky one appears to the general population, unless that person has broken the law.

There is great value in having the government (local, state, federal) initiate these types of projects at the behest of the people. Why? Because no institution is better positioned to justly administer the programs and funding for an entire community, state, or nation. I believe that every child in this country should get enough to eat, and I am willing to pitch in to make that happen. Could I personally make sure that each child gets a lunch? No. Could my church? No. How about the Gates Foundation? Most likely not. But because of the government, every single poor child in public school is guaranteed at least one balanced meal a day.

Things the government should not do:

1. Protect people from themselves. This means that most “victimless” crimes should be decriminalized, including drug use. However, they should probably be regulated, to better protect the rest of citizens from their ill effects. Laws protecting us from ourselves should only be enacted when the cost to society for someone’s idiocy becomes too high to bear, and that step should be taken carefully at best.

2. Change or enforce cultural values against the will of the majority. I don’t really know why the government is in the business of officially recognizing marriages and divorces. Why should it care? Births, deaths, and parentage/guardianship, yes. The rest, not so much. If the country is tending more and more toward reckless spending and greed, so be it. If the movies and music are getting trashier and trashier, oh well. These are issues for families, churches, and other grass-roots organizations (if these groups are doing what they ought, they should be able to build a majority, right?). The exception to this rule is when cultural values are infringing on the safety and freedom of some people in the country; such a situation resulted in the Civil Rights Act.

A few corollary thoughts:

1. It’s a Republic. So the role of our elected leaders is not exactly to enact the will of the people. It is to keep track of what the people care about, and do the research and hard work and rigorous thinking and careful compromising that the people don’t have time or inclination to do, and propose action accordingly. Let’s say I think the financial bailout idea stinks (I do) and I call my representative and tell him so (I didn’t, too lazy). His job is not to vote against it. Why not? Because I don’t know enough about how the economy works to say what the right course of action is. His job is to find out how the economy works, thoroughly investigate the proposed action as well as other alternatives, weigh their various costs, risks, and impacts, figure out what will best allow me to to keep living my free unmolested life, and vote for that, and then let me know what he did and how he took my concerns into account. Evidence-based decision-making, dudes! No knee-jerk reactions, deciding from the gut, or mindlessly parroting the electorate.

2. No religion promoted by the government. Elected officials who are religious can be open about how their religion affects their decision making. But no laws, policies, or projects should ever be enacted whose only basis is religious, or whose intended outcomes are primarily religious. Not even if I personally agree with the religious goals or motivations. Why? Because I don’t want anyone telling me I have to wear a headscarf in public or pray in tongues at the baseball game. And I don’t want anyone telling Jews, Buddhists, and Atheists that their children only qualify for the school lunch program if they pray to Jesus before meals. I love Jesus and wish more people did, but faith is an invitation and not a precondition for the benefits of citizenship.

About a month ago, I made a sudden decision to leave my fairly interesting, fairly well-paying, office job in order to return to teaching and writing. I had to move fast because the semester was about to start– I put in my notice, sent around my resume, and within two weeks had a full teaching load lined up for fall, and a slow, part-time phase out in place at my old job. I’d been planning to stick with the gig at least until the end of the spring semester– it wasn’t a perfect fit (gray cubicle, lots of meetings), but there was no strong impetus to look for something new. But you know, sometimes when you pray about things like work, answers come. With encouragement from Dr. G, I took the spiritual hint and shifted gears.

I knew for sure it was the right decision about a week ago– sitting in that gray cubicle feeling grouchy, exhausted, and headachy, with a persistent tickle in my throat. I had to go teach in a few hours and I decided I’d better do the whole class sitting down (usually I’m a roamer), with a throat lozenge. But within 10 minutes of setting foot in the classroom, my energy returned and my niggling aches and pains disappeared. I was happy to be there. It felt just right.

Being a college teacher sounds prestigious, and it is fun to be a part of the learning process with my students and focus my energy on what I know best. But actually, for most people, college teaching is tiring, low-paid work. That’s because the majority of college teachers are like me: “part timers” called adjuncts. In the community college system here, there is a policy of hiring up to 3 adjuncts for every two full-time faculty members. Adjuncts live class to class, semester to semester. No job security, no benefits, no vacation or sick time. An adjunct in my local community college system who taught 12 3-credit courses in a year (four per semester and four in the summer– the rules limit us to 3 per semester but sometimes there are exceptions) would make less than $29,000. An English composition adjunct would grade about 1200 essays during that year, and spend about 576 hours in class, not including planning time, reading time, helping students outside of class, and grading smaller homework assignments. It’s mentally and emotionally challenging work, though many of the adjuncts who do it love the work and being in an educational setting. They are dedicated.

Universities are also staffed more and more with part-time teachers and graduate student teachers and teaching assistants, rather than full-time faculty. Full-timers have more responsibilities than part-timers– they are expected to actively add to the knowledge in their field through research and writing, review and evaluate the work of others in their field, sit on planning committees that decide the direction of their department and their discipline, and, in many cases, bring money into the institution by winning grants. They also advise and mentor upper-level students. People are often surprised to hear that Dr. G teaches just a few courses each semester– that’s because he’s doing all those other things. He works year-round, even though he doesn’t teach a single class during the summer months.

There is definitely a place in higher education for part-time and student teachers. Adjunct teaching is good for both professionals and schools, because working people active in their field can come in and teach a class in the evening, pass on what they know, and earn a few extra bucks. They bring new perspectives and authenticity into the institution, which might otherwise become stuffy and insulated. And I believe that every graduate student should take a course in pedagogy and teach a class or two under the close mentorship of an experienced professor, as part of their training for a career in higher ed.

The problem is that those grad students are often not fully prepared to teach or closely supported while they do. And, as for the alleged “part timers”– too many of us are not part time. We cobble together a schedule of a few classes at this institution, a few more at that one, until our schedules are completely full. The schools save tons and tons of money operating this way. Even if a department has to go through the hassle of hiring 10 adjuncts to each teach three classes each every semester, it would rather do that than create five full-time positions and pay three times as much. At the community college (though perhaps this does not hold true at four-year schools or private schools), this hiring model may help keep tuition costs down.

The reason this strategy works is that there are so many people like me: qualified educators who have graduate degrees and are willing to make financial sacrifices to stay in a college setting doing what they love. There is no incentive to offer people $50,000 to do what they will just as eagerly do for $20,000.

But this is not just about educators– it’s about students. How are students best served? In most cases, adjuncts do not have an on-campus presence outside a mailbox and an email address, and are therefore not very accessible to students outside of class. They are generally not well connected to what is happening at the college and can’t alert their students to new opportunities and resources as well as a full-timer could. There may be professional development opportunities available that would help improve their teaching or expertise in their field, but chances are they are too busy making ends meet to attend. When those full-timer faculty committees are meeting to set the direction of the department, adjunct voices are likely not included. And, unless they take particular initiative to seek out their fellow part-timers, most adjuncts are unlikely to interact with other teachers and exchange ideas. Even the most effective and accomplished adjunct is less equipped to serve his or her students than a full-timer with the full campus community and network of resources behind her.

So, I’m gladly diving back in to a field I love, but I feel a bit like I am contributing to the problem. And yet, I want to do this work. I have to start somewhere and see what doors open along the way. I just wonder if there is any way I can contribute to improving the system in the meantime.

The scene: A storefront Vietnamese restaurant. We are slurping down beef noodle soup and listening to the loud fellow at the table next to us. He is trying to convince his friend to stay at the restaurant even though they don’t serve alcohol.

Loud Fellow: This is the best Vietnamese food I’ve ever tasted! I’m telling you! I’ve been here, what, five times this week–

Loud Fellow’s Wife: Seven.

Loud Fellow: I’ve been here seven times since Sunday, and it is delicious! That day I woke up from the bus stop and just– decided to come in here.

Loud Fellow’s Friend: Hm.

I have definitely seen people sleeping at bus stops– I have myself zoned out, if never actually slept, at similar bus stops– but I never pictured them eating tasty Vietnamese restaurant meals every day. Thank you, Loud Fellow, for widening my horizons.

The other night Dr. G and I noticed a pall hanging over the dark road as we returned from the grocery store. I thought fog, he thought smoke. We were both wrong– it was dust. We had just missed some giant truck revving its engine and peeling out in our front yard. It had made black tire marks on the curb (both entry and exit), scattered buckets of gravel into the street, and gouged through the gravel and the plastic lining of the yard down to the dirt. It had run over a fairly big, pointy rock (maybe 14 inches tall?) in the process but apparently escaped unscathed. ARGH!

We have a corner lot in a neighborhood where most of the roads don’t go anywhere in particular. Our street is right about the point where people realize they are going the wrong way, so we witness a lot of frustrated turn-arounds. Most people have the decency to turn around in the street instead of on our property. But every couple of months, we’ll find tire tracks through the yard. This incident was the worst.

Okay, so it is a big yard without much in it. A few palm trees, a few big rocks, and a big expanse of white gravel. But you do have to go over a sharp curb and avoid a fire hydrant to get onto it! Awhile back Dr. G pushed some of the bigger rocks into the most common path of drive-through-the-yarders, but apparently it is not deterrent enough. And our across the street neighbor also has a fairly empty, inviting corner lot but I never see evidence of people driving through his. There is something special about ours.

My theory is that it is too empty. If we add a few more vegetation-type items so it looks sort of planned, people will think, “landscaped yard” and not “off-roading opportunity.” I would test my theory except it costs a lot of money and time. I wish I could set up a controlled experiment. Actually, I wish people would refrain from driving through my yard. Or, barring that, let them do it at a time when I can catch them at it and fully lecture them on human decency or at least take down a license plate! Dr. G was kind enough to sweep the street in the dark, late at night, after the last time, but I don’t want him to make a habit of it.