Emeritus Status

Emeritus Status

In the days of the Roman legion, when soldiers earned their wages some suggest it was at least partially paid in salt, hence the word salarium and eventually the English word salary came into being.  There is little or no evidence to support this myth even though it is part of modern etymological lore and is somewhat supported by sayings like “worth your salt”.  However, despite this debate, it is true that many other English words come down from the Latin and are at the root of common language.  One such word is emeritus, which is generally applied to retired professors and others of similarly prestigious rank who have moved on into retirement.  The Roman soldiers are again at the heart of this derivation since the term was used in Roman times applied to soldiers who were ready to retire.  It meant “to serve out one’s term,” and to have done one’s duty enough to be honored for having done so faithfully.

I spent ten years teaching at my alma mater at the graduate level in business.  I did not do this in search of honors or accolades, but rather because I was initially at some degree of loose ends and then because it was rewarding an apparently in increasing demand by the students.  They reviewed my proposed course packs and syllabi and approved them at an academic review level.  They even renewed my teaching contract for five years based on a more fulsome review of student and professor evaluations.  In other words, I didn’t just drift along and spend ten years doing what I wanted how I wanted with no oversight and credentialing.  At first we wrestled with the title I would be given.  Technically I was a Senior Lecturer, which sounded rather pedestrian, so they called me an Executive in Residence, which was a reasonably accurate term since I was tasked with teaching the practicum versus core curriculum.

At one point after several years they approached me and told me that they wanted to put me up for the title of Clinical Professor.  There had been a lively debate for years as to what to call teachers of the practicum who were not tenure-track and who were not doing primary research (the school is a top-notch research university).  They were thus usually part-time (though not always) and were not expected to publish, but rather to teach, particularly (but again, not always) the practicum rather than theory or core skill courses.  In the business academia world it is increasingly hard to distinguish between core and practicum as that pendulum is in constant motion.  In any case, after years of faculty resistance to the “dilution” of the professor moniker, they agreed on one of two titles: Clinical Professor or Professor of the Practice.

It was considered quite an honor and I was told by the Dean that there was only one other Clinical Professor, so I should consider it quite an honor indeed.  They needed to do some administrative finagling of my status and raise me from less than 50% to 50%.  This was clearly a hide-bound organizational system, but to give the school a bit of a break, it is a large employer and rules of the road are necessary.  It is less about the administrative rules and more about the sense of the tenured faculty members that I find interesting.  It has been said that since faculty cannot squabble over money (there being very little to go around), they tend to squabble about titles, offices and parking spots.

I went into whatever office they gave me since I was only there one or two days per week.  I was finally put into an office with emeritus professors and I found that both pleasant and convenient, since I knew them all.  I liked the wisdom I got from them which included a complex formula for office value that involved view, size, and proximity to bathrooms, cafeteria and elevators.  Academics are nothing if not thoughtful when it comes to things they ponder in their spare time. At one point they put in a retired four-star general who was teaching a leadership course and that was an entirely different matter altogether.

In terms of the parking space, I bought a garage pass, but mostly I would park in the adjacent lot and draw a $30 day ticket and consider it a fair price to park (my comparison being NYC exorbitant parking rates).  I once drew a complaint from a tenured professor who thought it was unfair of me to use a space there.  My logic was simple:

1. It is not a tow lot, but a ticket lot, so the University treated less like an offense and more like a revenue opportunity.
2. Others paid extra for an annual pass and I was simply choosing to pay the day rate and effectively adding to the University’s coffers in so doing.
3. The University oversold spaces to those lots so they didn’t give a damn who parked there and were prepared to let some pass-holders go without. Deans and such had specifically assigned spots that were tow spots.
4. Fuck you, I got here first and can afford the ticket (I will admit to looking the professor up on the public faculty evaluation ranking and found that I was ranked higher. I considered saying that I only did this one day a week, what was her problem since it was her full-time job…but I didn’t do it.)

But the title issue was the biggest deal of all.  The word Professor would just stick in the throat of some of these tenure-track types.  I won that round, but I was careful to never flaunt it.

It didn’t matter, since when I retired after ten years (at the age of 63, so I met all the criteria for retirement) I asked if I could use the term Emeritus Clinical Professor on my resume and was denied twice.  I was told that the University Senate (made up of those tenure-track faculty) had resoundingly and repeatedly denied the use of the term Emeritus to any but tenured faculty.  It doesn’t matter that much to me, but if I’m writing about it I must be a little annoyed by the pettiness.  I did my duty (driving 4 hours each way weekly for ten years).  I served out my term, so I am emeritus with a little “e”.