Adjunct Man: Hidden Hominid or Hoax?
by Rob Schnelle
The following news release was rescued from the hard drive of a surplused computer from Beetlebrow State University, whose Faculty Senate recently voted down a proposal to grant faculty status to adjuncts in the BSU faculty code.
Alegendary creature haunting campuses across the
nation has left indelible tracks here at Beetlebrow,
according to Dr. Sam Hackysacker, a professor in the Department of Anthropology. Adjunct Man, an ape-like hominid whose existence has long been disputed, came under fresh scrutiny today when Hackysacker made public an artifact he claims once belonged to an adjunct instructor.
“This shoe,” says Hacky-sacker, holding aloft a down-at-the-heels size-eleven wingtip, “clearly was worn by a middle-aged male of the species Homo adjunctus.”
Asked why he thinks the shoe got left behind, Hacky-sacker replies, “He was probably in a hurry. Many adjuncts are thought to moonlight as barristas and parking lot attendants.”
Hackysacker is alluding to adjunct salaries at BSU, which keep the university’s budget for general education in line with that for custodial wages.
“Many adjuncts hold Ph.D.s,” Hackysacker claims, “others have published books and refereed articles, and a number have done both. The only difference between them and us is that with quarterly hiring, they can disappear without a trace,” he says.
“I know there will be doubters out there asking me, ‘Where’s the DNA evidence? How do you know the shoe wasn’t planted by some practical joker?’ Well,” Hackeysacker laughs, “we’re working on that. But even without DNA findings, the new evidence is tremendously exciting. I’ve waited years for this.”
Response from other academic departments at Beetlebrow has so far been mixed.
“I’d sure like to see Adjunct Man confirmed,” says Dr. Kim Erstwhile of the Environmental Studies department. “It would boost conservation efforts throughout academe. But science is a waiting game…we’ll have to see how this all shakes out.”
“Where are the bones?” counters Dr. James Advil a wildlife biology professor. “Where is the fossil record for this animal? For that matter, what does it eat? To believe such a creature could survive undetected for so long, and in the unforgiving surroundings of a public university is goofy.”
Asked to explain the persistence of adjunct rumors at BSU, Advil blames “politically motivated” members of the faculty. “Adjuncts are just the latest hobbyhorse for career malcontents,” he says dismissively.
“You bet they are,” says Advil’s colleague, Dr. Pamela Hooey, adding, “Next thing you know, the unionizers will be using adjuncts as poster children. It’s like, jeez, get a grip!”
“I take a different view,” says Dr. Robin Flout, holder of the Kidney R. Floyd Chair in Ethics at Beetlebrow. “The interesting question, I feel, is not whether Adjunct Man exists, but why the idea of granting rights to other intelligent life forms is so odious to some professors. I think it’s a problem of hubris.”
Opinion among BSU administrators might be described as politely skeptical. Says Dr. Luther Ambience, Dean of the College of Arts and Humanities, “I find this phenomenon delicious. As a student of popular culture, I’m getting a tingly feeling just talking with you about it. I mean, if adjuncts didn’t exist, it would be necessary to invent them, right? ‘Adjunct Man’ bespeaks the imaginative exuberance one finds so often here at Beetlelebrow, and in the College of Arts and Humanities particularly.”
Questioned as to whether he would revise the quarterly contract system for long-term adjuncts in his college, provided they do exist, Ambience pauses to reflect. “No.”
President Inez Flattentyre concurs. “I see no reason to recognize beings unaccounted for by the Faculty Code, a document we know to be as definitive as Linnaean taxonomy.”
And what do BSU students think of Adjunct Man, whom Hackysacker describes as “elusive, upright in locomotion, and possessed of an uncanny, almost human voice?”
“I’m totally clueless,” says freshman Tabitha Preen. “All I know is, I got shut out of English 102 again.”
Junior LEGO Studies major Chelsea Chu is open to the idea that adjunct professors exist. “I’ve heard of them,” she grins. “I know someone’s been giving me homework. But it’s hard to put names to faces.”
Senior Orlando Vuzzpeg shrugs. “Of course adjuncts exist. I talked to one in the Writing Center the other day. I needed help with my résumé, and she made a bunch of suggestions that really improved it.”
Vuzzpeg claims he had considered remaining at Beetle-brow to earn a master’s degree, but after his encounters with adjuncts, he says, “I now realize what little reward there is for doing graduate work.”
Instead, Vuzzpeg will seek employment in the chemical weapons industry.
Meanwhile, Sam Hackysacker seems undeterred by the whirlwind of opinion his finding has unleashed: “I’ve been at this game too long to apologize. Let’s have an open investigation and let the chips fall where they may.”
Dr. Hackysacker welcomes serious inquiries regarding adjunct instructors on any of the nation’s campuses.
“If the shoe fits, by all means wear it,” he says.
