Of Bagels and Disappointment

I'm still relatively new to the position in which I sit, which is to say I've been here five or six years. Being among the rare full time instructors at a California Community College there were many things to which I had to adjust, and the surprises I encountered came in many forms. On the one hand, I had to navigate a world in which I had healthcare, a consistent wage, and a host of responsibilities that full-time faculty typically have (which, to be fair, some shrug off)-- all responsibilities that I never had in my former life as an adjunct/part time faculty member. On the other hand-- and this one has taken some time-- I had to finally arrive at the realization that all of my ideas to bring positive change to an institution (campus, district, call it what you will) entrenched in dysfunction was also the goal of at least two generations of full-time faculty before me. In fact, to think that I (or my generation of faculty) would be the one(s) to change this dysfunction is pretty arrogant, right? It runs deeeeeeep. 
I don't want to assign archetypes to the faculty hailing from the generation(s) before me-- although that would be a lot of fun but would most likely reveal my A. Nonny(mous) identity*-- instead, I will say that in a short few years (say, five or six) as full-time faculty member at a community college, I can see that the faculty before me were once as excited, ambitious, creative, naive, and oblivious to hurdles as I once was. However, after years of being short-circuited or otherwise stymied by administrators (or colleagues!) resistant to change, they became apathetic. But I have ideas; great ideas! Of course, they did too. And much like their ideas for positive change, mine have become a far away dream that I once had, and I forget a little bit more of that dream everyday. Along the way, I become the faculty member I never thought I would be: well,  apathetic.  
Not long ago, at a festive gathering of like-minded and not-yet-jaded colleagues, we discussed bringing a coffee shop to campus. Coffee, bagels, muffins...you know, all the stuff that you see at a coffee shop. We went so far as to plan a location on campus, discuss who we might talk to in order to put this plan into action, and formulate a pitch for administration. Sadly, as with so many things, life/work got in the way, and most of us ended up being too busy to see it through. It was disappointing, sure, but at the time it was understandable. We were still on the tenure track, we had many courses to teach, committee upon which to serve, and familial obligations. But we all agreed it was a good idea. 

Fast forward to the present day: we actually have a coffee shop on campus, they are struggling (before the coronavirus), and yet I never went there once. I may have considered it once, but I didn't go, and I don't imagine I ever will. I worry this means I don't care as much about my institution as I once did; I also worry that it means I care about my job less than I once did-- because in a state where community college full-time faculty are roughly 35%-40% of the entire body of faculty, I realize that I pretty much hit the lottery when it comes to job security and a decent wage. I'm a cynic, I always have been, but I romanticized this job. I like most of my students, and I like most of my colleagues. I just thought it would be a bit better than a cross between working at a college and the Department of Motor Vehicles.

*hey, if you want to help me pay for this shit to be password protected, let me know, at [email protected]

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