|From Gustav Dore's drawings of Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner|
My energies these past few weeks have been spent on teaching my three classes at UofL and on writing for LEO. My own work, writing and otherwise, has fallen by the wayside of late as I try to adjust to a teaching regimen again. The teaching goes as well as can be expected in huge machine of a university. I find myself reaching back to methods taught to me by my friend and mentor, George Eklund. In my mind, I don't teach at the heartless, soulless meat grinder that is a large and parasitic university. I teach at the community college in my mind, the Parsons School of High Creative Humanism. I value my classroom time and hold faith in the potential of actual discussion, intellectual inquiry, and a genuine creative social critique.
I'm still, as you probably expected, banished from the harrowed halls and campuses of the Kentucky Community Technical College System -- a system, which, from what I can tell, is still on an increasingly speedy downward spiral into University of Phoenix infamy. The fat cats are still fat. The lackeys are still latched onto the corporate tit, and adjunct instructors are still ritualistically exploited for the enjoyment of Jay Box, the Board of Regents, The Office of General Counsel, Lisa Brodsky, Shawna L. Anderson, and Emily Belswood*.
Some progress is being made, of course. That the entire institution hasn't ground to a stop because adjuncts are tired of their ritualized dehumanization is proof there isn't enough progress -- but there's always next week, I suppose.
As for the long war back, I suspect, like Odysseus, I suspect my journey towards vindication, if any exists, will take longer than I'd like. My next step, if there is one, is legal action; but my financial situation, and my desire to do more than simply make them pay for a moral affront and attack on my livelihood makes me wonder of there's even a point. Sure, they might pay me off -- but until then I'd be unable to write about them, tell the tale, and sing the songs of their misdeeds, which are many.
And if I happened to win -- that is, if they offered to pay me off -- there would certainly be some attempt to script my telling of the events. And, truth be told, I'd rather be able to continue to call them out for the scam artists they are than get a large payday.
So, keep reading, Dear Friends and Readers. I'll be stopping by here more on the regular. And when I am not here in person, rest assured I always near the dirty sacred river in my heart of hearts.
*Lisa Brodsky, a sham of an incompetent administrator, Shawna L. Anderson, a lackluster and bitter lackey hiding in Institutional Research, and Emily Belswood, a lowly public relations peon are three of the four people who I have, in the past, written about as #respondent53. I know who the 4th is but can find no proof. Open records requests show the three miscreants listed above did maliciously track and trace my social media life -- which, if the NLRA was any damn use at all and included "public servants", would have caused for them and the college to be sanctioned -- from The Cone Man Saga until I handed them a loaded firearm to shoot me with. Way to stalk. I'd call you ladies, but I've known too many real ones to insult the term.