About the Author: Part Seven -- The Sure Thing

When you have chosen your part, abide by it, and do not weakly try to reconcile yourself with the world. . . . If you would serve your brother, because it is fit for you to serve him, do not take back your words when you find that prudent people do not commend you. Adhere to your own act, and congratulate yourself if you have done something strange and extravagant, and broken the monotony of a decorous age.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Heroism," Essays: First Series (1841)

Part Seven: The Sure Thing

April 23, 2001
It may happen to us at any time. The sure thing. All the paths of the heavens seem to intersect at one particular moment in time. The time is right. The place is right. Your mind is prepared for the challenge and as they say, things just seem to be going your way. And then it happens. Disaster strikes. Gloom rears its ugly head and you find yourself back at square one -- the sure thing stares at you, taunting you, and yet it is out of your control, dangling its choices, its successes and joys before your eyes. But alas, it is a thing gone forever -- the sure thing.

Such is life. Such is the way of the world. Life takes its strange course regardless of how much you strive to change destiny. Some things are just meant to be. We ask, "But why? How could the sure thing end up so completely false?" There is no retort to such existential questions except "it is." But that is no consolation, as if we really do expect consolation from disaster. "Adversity, my man. Strive to be an even better person. Learn life's lessons."

But . . . the sure thing. How can this be?

At the end of the Spring semester 2000, my chairman at Meredith College informed me that because one faculty member was leaving, I would be given a one year full-time position in European history. Of course, I gladly accepted the honor. After all, this was the closest I'd come to a real job. The salary was right, the hours were right, and having been at Meredith since January of the previous year I already felt right at home.

Over the summer I created the website for the History and Politics Department and then settled down to creating syllabi for the three sections of western civilization and an upper division course on 20th century Europe. The semester flowed easily enough and I was thoroughly entranced with my office, my lap top, my students and the fact that I was finally doing what I love to do AND what I love to do best -- teach!

Meanwhile, I had also made application for a position in modern European history at Meredith. My department chair wrote the job description with me in mind -- he even sent me a draft to ask if I thought it was alright (!!!). My credentials were, I thought, strong enough. I didn't have two heads and had never killed anyone. My teaching evaluations couldn't have been any better.

I developed a new course on 20th century Eastern Europe for the Spring term -- a course which had never before been taught at Meredith. That course, which ends in another week, went very well, despite the fact that my students initially had as many problems as I did with such an alien culture as Eastern Europe.

Anyway, I submitted my application and waited. I made the final cut to four. Four was a strange number -- should have been three, as it always is. I spent April 3rd being interviewed by people whom I had known for two years and gave a presentation on Stalin and Stalinism in the 1930s, and figured, this must be the sure thing.

Sadly, it wasn't. After waiting what seemed like an eternity (2 weeks) I learned that I did not get the job and that it had been offered to another candidate. In fact, the department gave the job to someone who got his B.A. the year I received my Ph.D. All that teaching experience counted for nothing. And my life, it seemed, came to an abrupt end.

The sure thing. . . .

What a strange world . . . .

And, of course, the reading continues (all this since March 2000):

Dobbs, Down with Big Brother; Seton-Watson, The Russian Empire; Demetz, Prague in Black and Gold; West, Black Lamb an the Grey Falcon; Hasek, The Good Soldier Svejk; Rohde, Endgame; Judah, Kosovo; West, Tito; Glenny, The Balkans; Davies, God's Playground; Barzun, From Dawn to Decadence; Payne, The Franco Regime; Stavrianos, The Balkans Since 1453; Sugar, A History of Hungary; Payne, Fascism in Spain; Hooper, The New Spaniards; Milosz, Native Realm; Milosz, The Captive Mind; Johnson, Central Europe; Gaddis, Now We Know; Rosenberg, Haunted Land: Facing Europe's Ghosts After Communism; Marcuse, One-Dimensional Man; Burleigh, The Third Reich: A New History; Crozier, The Rise and Fall of the Soviet Empire; Brendon, The Dark Valley: A Panorama of the 1930s; Borowski, This Way for the Gas, Ladies and Gentlemen; Figes, A People's Tragedy; Hoffman, Exit Into History; Kershaw, Hitler: 1889-1936: Hubris and Hitler: 1936-1945: Nemesis; Conquest, Reflections on a Ravaged Century; and (can you believe it?) Louis De Bernières' novel, Corelli's Mandolin.

May 10, 2001
Well, after a month frustration and bitterness, I have been offered the chance to teach two sections of western civilization back at Meredith. I have decided to continue teaching. You knew that already, right? I just can't see letting down my students -- if they want what I have to offer, in whatever small way, then I must oblige them.

It's not easy to put all this behind me, but I have tried. In fact, I'm surprised at just how well I've managed to deal with this entire experience. No, it's best to move on and not look back. I have no idea what the future holds . . . I'm only human.

Part Eight: "Just be a Dad"

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