A book by a disgruntled adjunct instructor revealing the seedy underside of academia. This was a book project I had planned to write for some time; in fact I have over a chapter already written. My wife brought home a New York Times on Wednesday and I saw that I’d been scooped. Professor X’s book In the Basement of the Ivory Tower is reviewed in the Times. Curiously, his subtitle – Confessions of an Accidental Academic – was suspiciously close to my own proposed title. I guess I was just a little too busy teaching 11 courses this year to get around to writing the tome. In any case, I wish Professor X well. He has managed, however, to capture the attention of Viking so my insignificant wishes likely matter little.

Misery loves company, as the saying goes, and it is a strange and profound comfort to know I am not the only one consistently suffering at the hands of academe. University life has become a caste system of privileged professors and administrators and their minions while those of us who’ve had to try to earn our own respectability end up wallowing in it. Well-meaning professors suggested a doctorate from Edinburgh would make my resume stand out. I’m sure it is one of the more exotic ones in the waste-can. Meanwhile I have students coming to me asking questions about the department because none of the full-timers are ever in their offices.

I raise a glass to Professor X. Somebody needs to tell it like it is. Those who are heavily invested in the system cannot be expected to speak out against it. Courage is not the hallmark of the average academic. Those of us who dare challenge the abuses we see above us will most definitely live to pay for it; I know others who’ve shared my fate in this regard. It is the paradigm of education in the United States: we promote it until somebody has to pay. At that point those who’ve spent years after high school becoming specialists are asked not to crowd the others in the bread-line. Professor X, I salute you.