Page 10 of Baby for the Professor
"I’m sorry to bother you, but is Jackson here?"
"Jackson?" She shook her head. "I don't think so. I've just moved in. So has my roommate. The previous tenants moved out a week ago. We don't know them."
Right. He told me he was moving and I forgot about it. Shit. I was too late.
“Thanks, and sorry to bother you,” I said and exited the building. That took care of it. I would have to make a decision without him.
Chapter 6
Jackson
Five years later
The beginning of a new semester was always chaotic. This time was especially stressful because it was my first tenure track ever. I didn’t care about the tenure per se, but I wanted to stay at UCLA, a campus I loved. After completing my fellowship at Harvard, I taught as an assistant professor at various universities all over the country, even overseas.
When Monica told me about the job opening here in the business department last year, I didn't hesitate to apply. And with the help of my past advisors and professors at the econ department, and probably Monica as well, I got the job easily.
However, whether I could get a tenure would depend on many factors, including teaching skills and scholarly publications. As a new faculty member, I was expected to excel in everything. Besides a couple of graduate seminars, I volunteered to teach a course for the continuous education program as well, mostly because the professor scheduled to teach it had quit, and no one in the department seemed to be interested in it.
I went over my lecture notes once again before putting my laptop in my suitcase and stepping out of my office. My mind was all over the place on my way to the elevator, running through a list of things to do.
I stopped by the department’s conference room first. The new faculty and grad students’ welcome party took place right before my last class of the day. Although I had met most of my new colleagues, I didn’t want to miss the social event.
The conference room was packed with people gathering in small groups, talking and snacking. I introduced myself to a few graduate students while sampling the finger sandwiches.
“Hi Jackson,” Monica joined our conversation as soon as she saw me.
“Hey.” I smiled.
Monica had been a great friend. We were never completely out of touch after we finished graduate school. We met over conferences at least once a year and emailed each other from time to time. She had John broken up two years ago and she was single again. After I moved back to LA two months ago, we also met up during weekends to play tennis, a sport we both enjoyed.
“Are you nervous about your first day?” Monica asked me.
“I’m excited,” I said. I had gained confidence from over five years’ teaching experience, but the first day of class was always exciting. Besides, it’s the first time I ever teach a continuing education class. To my understanding, the students were mostly working adults. “Thanks again for helping.”
“Don’t mention it! You’re an asset to the department and we’re thrilled to have you,” Monica chided. The brilliant woman had gotten her tenure a couple of years ago. She glanced around as if making sure no one could overhear us. “Since you’re a friend, I’m going to give you a little advice.”
“What is it?”
“Just make sure you focus on the research and publication. The teaching isn’t that important.”
I had heard the same thing from other universities but had always doubted it. “That’s sad because, frankly, I enjoyed teaching more than researching,” I said with a sigh.
Monica grinned. “I felt the same before. But I would rather write papers now.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just can’t stand explaining the same concepts over and over. Besides, you cannot believe how dumb most students are.”
“No way.” I frowned. This was a prestigious school. “You have too high a standard, Monica. Not everyone is a genius like you.”
She laughed. “Well, that’s flattering, but you’ll see. Maybe they are just lazy. They like partying more than studying.”
“That’s understandable,” I said with a shrug. “But I’m also teaching an extension class. I suppose the students there are more responsible.”
She rolled her eyes. “They’re worse. Work and family are their priority. They don’t care so much about learning and only want a degree for career advancement. Those people work eight or more hours before coming to your class. Do you think they can still get economics?”
That comment certainly dampened my spirit, and I fell silent.
