who are you? who, who, who, who?

this song by, er, the who, was playing as i left campus today. friends of blogland: holy crap. i cannot believe that i am a professor. and that i have an office to myself, and a shiny new computer, bought for me by my fabulous new place of employment. i can't believe the great benefits. i can't believe the resources. i can't believe the cool campus.

awkwardnesses, too. like every other english department on earth, we've got overworked and underappreciated adjuncts. (who need a union, btw.) i have never been in a collection of people among whom i occupied the enviable position. but here i am, young (relatively) and with the big fat peachy dream of academics: a tenure-track job. i wonder if i'll turn into a super bitch? i wonder if i'll develop a gigantic sense of entitlement? i wonder if i'll cackle with evil laughter as i advocate for policies that give adjuncts more work, less stability and less compensation? i wonder if i will rub my hands as i cackle?

but seriously, folks. what is it that makes people think they don't deserve any better than what they've got? even more than my surprise at this bureaucratic infrascructure that is cradling me so gently to its bosom is my surprise at my surprise. and then i get defensive. fuck yes, i fucking "deserve" it. (not that "deserve"'s got anything to do with it, thanks to clint eastwood's character in unforgiven for pointing that out.) and but i remember waiting tables for eight years and figuring that's what i was supposed to do, and not really knowing what else i would do. (of course, i liked the money, the schedule, the pace and the people, too.) in any case, i just don't feel like someone who gets cradled to bureaucratic bosoms. but would i know if i did? feel like that? eh, probably not.

anyway, i took german in college. and so when i came to graduate school, i named the disk (that's right: a disk. floppy.) what i thought in german read "i am a teacher." but what i really wrote was "i am a waitress." (ich bin Kellnerin.) dumb old language strikes again.