Soul Work and Thunderstorms

by Lee Shainen LIVING IN THE desert where the annual rainfall is perhaps ten inches, one paradoxically, learns a lot about rain. Considering that all of the rain falls in two distinct and short seasons, one also learns to distrust annual averages. We have winter rains and summer rains with only a rare surprise rain in between. Commonly but inaccurately known as monsoons, the summer rains, or chubascos, are accompanied by a rolling orchestra of thunder and lightning. The storms come quickly on driving winds, down narrow corridors of terrain, dump enormous amounts of water, cause rapid and often violent flooding, and then they're gone, sometimes in just minutes. They are brilliant, exciting, even life-changing events but, arguably, more destructive than beneficial. It is the longer, gentler, and more widespread winter rains that fill our aquifers, support our ecosystem, and bring forth the incongruous colorful splash of desert wildflowers each spring. Such rains are needed in higher education today. There has been a drought of sorts. Money, attention, fairness, and good will have been withheld from those who teach the majority of college students. Yet in such a dry climate grow the conditions for chubascos: intense but localized outbursts. Educated, impoverished, angry voices are howling in the wind. But there are also others who are talking softly, reasonably, joining hands and moving together, perhaps forming a circle, with a chant, and a dance, a rain dance. Chris Storer is such a rain dancer. He is the legislative analyst for the California Part-Time Faculty Association and smack dab in the middle of the organizing that brought California part-timers equal pay for equal work. He is now on the steering committee that is bringing Campus Equity Week (October 28 to November 3) to colleges all over Canada and the United States. What an astounding undertaking! I have often wondered about the people who are willing and able to sit in the eye of such events. I talked to Chris. I learned he began teaching in 1968, got caught up in the anti-war movement in 1969, and by 1970 dropped out with his wife and kids and became a subsistence farmer. Stayed at it for eleven years. I imagine something of his spirit and effectiveness was also cultivated during those years. When he emerged, he had the audacity to sell an oil company on their need to have a philosopher on staff. They went for it, and Chris was that philosopher. He returned to teaching in 1988 and was stunned to find 50 percent of the classes being taught by faculty on temporary assignments. So, used to putting his hands in the dirt, he went to work. What impresses me about Chris is that his efforts are not primarily about the money. He sees in California a part-timer turnover rate approaching 40 percent. He sees students being asked to learn on their own by instructors without office hours who are also rushing back and forth between colleges to make ends meet. He sees educational missions playing second fiddle to the demands of efficiency, productivity, and the bottom line, and, in these trends, he sees a danger to society. He strongly believes that the quality of higher education is directly linked to the strength of a democracy, and so he does this work. And, he continues to teach philosophy, now at De Anza College, in Cupertino, where he has been for the past twelve years. Perhaps there is a storm coming, perhaps not. Certainly, something is happening. I trust in the winter rain dancers who are committed to bringing deep change to our education way. The Internet allows us all to join in the circle with them. So, I urge you, get connected. Be a voice for equity on your campus and, if you are so moved, e-mail me about your efforts. You see, it's contract time here at the magazine. I've put mine down on the line. I'm betting that there is a need for stories, your stories. It's a gamble. If I'm wrong, I'm out of a job. If I'm right, I'll start hearing from you. Tell me who you are, why you teach, what you know: the quirky stuff-the dreams, nuts-and-bolts, guffaws-with an eye (of course) towards the unconventional and a finger on the pulse of a growing wisdom. I will listen, gather the threads, then present the patchwork back to you. Together may we grow. LSHAINEN@pimacc.pima.edu