Campus confidential, p.22
Campus Confidential, page 22
Provost Johnson stiffened. His head turned slowly from where he had been contemplating me and Alex to focus on Tom. “Yes,” he said slowly. “The university has vetted the source of these funds with all due diligence, as it always does with its donors and endowments.”
“And this doesn’t have anything to do with that fancy new building just on the other side of Morrison Hall?”
“Angelo Hall was, shall we say, a down payment on the endowment. An initial expression of interest, a test to see if the families could work with the university for mutual benefit.”
“Is that so,” said Tom. “And those people in those offices in the upper floors of Angelo, the ones where there are no classrooms, those people who work for Angelo Operations Ltd., or D’Annunziato & Co., is this an example of the kind of ‘mutual benefit’ the university is looking for?”
Provost Johnson stiffened even more. “What are you implying, Tom?” he demanded.
“Implying? Nothing. I’m asking why the university is renting out space in a campus building to a private enterprise, one that paid for said building. Or paid in part.”
“If you’re referring to the Superstorm Sandy money, everything has been cleared with the state. We were given a certain sum for damages, but how we chose to implement it was up to us. Instead of rebuilding that sad trailer park on the far side of the stadium that was blown away, we chose to invest the money in building a brand-new, state-of-the-art classroom building. The state agreed that was a legitimate use of the funds, one with greater long-term benefit for the state than mere replacement of the original structures, which, as I’m sure you, Tom, as the most senior person here in terms of years of service at TLASC, remember as a sorry collection of cheap prefab and mobile homes. What did you call it? I’m sure someone repeated your rather pithy statement about it to me when we were discussing what to do with it. Oh yes: ‘Kansas trailer trash in dire need of its tornado.’ Well, its tornado came, Tom, and we decided to take your implied advice and upgrade in its aftermath.”
“And a sorely needed upgrade that was,” said Tom. “But with Angelo money on the bargain?”
“Are you suggesting that our mayor’s money isn’t good enough for the college located in his own home town and constituency? Are you suggesting that he shouldn’t be allowed to give back to the community he has served so long and faithfully?”
“You make him sound like a real public servant,” said Tom, his mouth quirked in a wry smile.
“Because he is.”
“Of sorts,” said Tom, his mouth still quirked in that wry smile. “A Jersey-style public servant.”
“Yes,” said Provost Johnson. “Just like we are a Jersey-style public institution of higher education. Enough.” He slapped the handout against the table for emphasis. “The money has already been accepted, so any discussion of its provenance is fruitless. And, may I remind you, some of it has been specifically earmarked for your program, the program that you, Tom, have been complaining for years is the ‘red-headed stepchild,’ if I recall your words correctly, of the college. Well, no longer. This is your chance to vault it from red-headed stepchild to first-born son, and all because of the Angelo and D’Annunziato families, who, need I remind you, are expressing their gratitude for services you”—he swept us all with his gaze—“you all personally have rendered them. If anyone should be worried about being seen as in their pocket, Tom, I would think it would be you. And Rowena and Alex as well. But you don’t consider yourselves compromised, do you?” He fixed both me and Alex with a piercing look, demanding an answer.
“Um.” Alex and I shared a glance. “Whatever I might have done for Mackenzie, it was nothing out of the ordinary,” I said. “Nothing I wouldn’t have done for any student. And I did it for her, because of her, not for her family or because of whoever they might be.”
“Same here,” said Alex. “Money can’t buy love, you know what I mean?” He sat back and folded his arms. “As we get to prove every day.”
“Indeed,” said Provost Johnson. “You see? Nothing untoward there at all. And it’s the same with the building, and the endowment.” He looked us all each in the face once again. “This is your chance,” he said. “Do you think I don’t know what it’s like? Do you think I wasn’t once in your shoes? I taught English, for God’s sake. What’s being done to humanities programs across the country is a crying shame, and we all know it. Well, instead of whining and moaning and wringing our hands about it, we need to do something. We’re always talking about how our subjects have real-world applications, and here you go, you’ve just proven that they do. You’ve just proven that the kinds of connections, the kind of human relations and human knowledge that we’re all committed to building, really do make the world a better place, really do make the world go round. So, if you’ll permit me to say it, don’t fuck this up. Take the money and be happy!”
There was a knock at the door. Janey stuck her head cautiously in. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Provost, when you’re engaged in such an important discussion, but you did ask me to let you know when your next appointment arrived.”
Provost Johnson sighed. “Tell John Greene I’ll be right with him,” he said, sounding even less enthused about meeting with John Greene than I would have been.
“I’m sure John Greene will be full of ideas for how the Romance Languages program can use its share of the endowment money,” he said, once Janey had withdrawn her head and shut the door again. “And how he could use your share, too, if you don’t want it. The money will get used, one way or another; the question is how much your program will benefit from it. So why don’t you draw up a list of requests and suggestions, and submit it to me, by, shall we say next week? Tom, why don’t you take point on this, and solicit everyone else’s suggestions and compile them. Does that sound good?”
There was a pause. “Very well,” said Tom slowly. “Next week it is. As soon as finals are over.”
“Very good,” said Provost Johnson, looking pleased. He stood up, the rest of us copying him. “I think this has been a very productive meeting. Thank you all for coming. Oh, Rowena.” He caught my arm as I started to file past him, his hand firm on my bicep. Two men touching me in one meeting. My lucky day. The sad thing was, I’d been alone for long enough now that it almost felt like it. “A word, please.” He dropped my arm as Alex sidled past us, giving Provost Johnson’s hand a sideways look as he did so.
“I just wanted to thank you for taking the time to work with Madison so much this semester,” Provost Johnson said, loudly enough that everyone could hear. “I know she can be...challenging at times, but she’s really blossomed under your instruction. She’s mentioned several times how you’ve really taken a personal interest in her, and it’s made all the difference for her.”
“Um, it’s nothing,” I said. We were alone now.
“No, it’s not,” said Provost Johnson, stepping back and leaning a hip against the conference table. I guessed he wasn’t worried about creasing his $1000 suit. Probably he had one for each day of the week, and a maid who gathered them up and took them in to be dry cleaned each weekend, cancer risk be damned. “Look, Rowena, can I be straight with you?”
“Of course.”
“We both know about Madison’s...little problem. I know, and I know that you know, because she came and told me that you’ve been pushing her to go back into rehab. You even sent her a list of programs and clinics, isn’t that right, on top of insisting she sober up, at least for your classes.”
“Um...yeah...”
“Oh don’t worry, I’m not going to tell you off for not reporting her to the authorities. First of all, aside from the fact that I am the authorities, at least as far as this university is concerned, because as a father I appreciate not having to deal with all that legal crap, and second of all, because we both know it won’t do her a damn bit of good, don’t we?”
“I mean, it rarely does.”
“Yeah. I won’t say I haven’t thought from time to time that a little stint in jail might do Madison some good, break through where nothing else will.” He ran a hand over his face, looking for a moment less like the representative of the new, corporate face of higher education, and more like a father concerned for his willful, wayward, unhappy teenage daughter.
“But tempting a thought as that can be at times, I know it won’t actually work,” he said, once his face had emerged from behind his hand. “Jail would probably just introduce her to even more cokeheads, and maybe get her hooked on heroin or something in the bargain.”
“Yeah. That’s normally how it works.”
“I’ve promised Madison a trip to anywhere in the world she wants to go next summer, if she goes back into rehab over winter break, and stays clean all spring,” he told me. He smiled ruefully. “I’m not above bribery, and when it comes to Madison, never have been. She says she wants to do a study abroad program in Russia. I have to say I was impressed. I thought she’d want to go clubbing in Ibiza or something, waste her summer completely, but she wants to spend it studying. She was even talking about looking for an internship over there. Do they offer such things?”
“They do,” I said. “I’ll be happy to suggest some programs to her, if she’s interested.”
“That’s great. Look, can we meet next week, after finals? You, me, and Madison. To talk about programs. Both kinds of programs. I’ve told her she has until the end of finals to pick out her rehab program, or I’m picking it out for her. That’s the stick. And the carrot is letting her pick out what program she’ll do afterwards. If she can manage to stay clean.”
“She can do it.”
“So sure of that?”
“Actually, no,” I said. “I mean, I’m sure in theory. She’s a smart girl and, in her own way, a brave girl, and I’m sure that if she really wants to, she can stay clean. The trick is getting her to really want to, and only she can do that. But giving her something to work towards, something she really wants, might help.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought too.” He blew out a breath. “I really am sorry we can’t keep you, Rowena, and I really do want you to apply for the new Russian position if—when—it opens up. Do you have anything lined up for next semester yet? Next year?”
I shook my head.
“Well.” He smiled slightly. “If you want to come and be Madison’s full time minder and life coach, let me know.”
“Um...”
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I’m serious, Rowena: Madison doesn’t have anyone else who will do that for her, and you’ve been more effective than anyone else thus far. Unless you’ve got some place you’re going back to. You’re not married, are you?”
I shook my head.
“Yeah, the good ones never are—don’t have the time, am I right?”
“Um...something like that.”
“Yeah. I really do remember what it was like, Rowena, although I’m sure you’d tell me that it’s worse now than when I was coming through the system. And you’d probably be right, but it was bad enough then that I can make a pretty good guess of what it’s like now. So seriously, Rowena, let me know. The offer will be open until Madison straightens out, and God alone knows when that will be.”
“Um,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Yeah. So, next week? Next Friday? Can we meet...not here. Madison doesn’t like it here, and to be honest I don’t want to have this conversation in my own office. How about your office?”
“Well...” I began.
“Let me guess,” he said. “You don’t have your own office.”
“Something like that.”
“Well, let’s let Angelo Hall earn its keep. Neutral territory, so to speak. Shall we say...do you have class there?”
“Yeah. Angelo 027. The basement.”
“Well, don’t turn in your key just yet. How about we meet in your classroom Friday afternoon. Or evening, if you’re available. That would certainly work better for me, let me get all my meetings out of the way, and if all goes well, which I have a good feeling that it will, we can take Madison out for a celebratory dinner afterwards.”
“Um,” I said. “Okay. I should be free all evening.”
“6:00pm work for you?”
“Sure.”
“Great.” He gave me a genuine smile. “See you next week, Rowena. 6:00pm, in the basement.”
39
I hurried out into the early-evening twilight to catch up with the others. Tom was already halfway back across the quad, in earnest discussion with Emma and Kate, but Alex was loitering near the entrance to Morrison.
“Jesus Christ, what was that about?” he whispered as soon as I came up to him. “Where are you headed now, by the way?”
“The parking lot behind the stadium.”
“Yeah, me too.” We both started across the back quad, the empty space between Morrison, Angelo, the library, and the football stadium, which was dark in the half-lighting provided by the old-fashioned street lamps that, despite what parents were promised when they asked about on-campus safety, only worked on one side of the space. “Are you okay, Rowena? What did he want to talk to you about?”
“Um, about Madison,” I said.
“His daughter? The one who’s your student?”
“Uh-huh.”
He relaxed a little. “Thank God. For a moment I thought he was going to proposition you or something.”
“Well...”
“Shit! He didn’t!”
“No,” I said quickly. “Nothing like that. Actually, he was perfectly nice to me, much nicer than he was, you know, back in the meeting.”
“Well, that wouldn’t be hard,” said Alex.
“I know. But, I mean, he was perfectly nice to me, nothing, you know, improper, but...”
“But what?”
“But he wants to meet with me next week. Me and Madison. To talk about her...options. Which is a little weird. I mean, I feel weird about meeting with a parent and discussing the student with them.”
“Yeah. For sure. But she’s going to be there, right? Like, of her own free will?”
“More or less. I mean, yes, she’s supposed to be there, and supposedly it will be of her own free will.”
“Okay. So if I understand FERPA, and I think I do, since I’ve done the fucking training, like, about six million times, it’s okay to discuss stuff with a third party, including a parent, if she’s given her consent. It’s why we can send transcripts and write letters of recommendation and stuff.”
“I know. And it’s not really that. I mean, it’s a little weird but maybe it’ll help her. But, like...he also kind of, um, offered me a job.”
“What?” Alex stopped. “You’re fucking kidding me! The tenure-track position? He can’t just do that! I mean, not that you don’t deserve it, but you don’t just hand those motherfuckers out. You have to torture people for months first until there’s only one victor, standing on a bloody pile of dismembered bodies and sobbing brokenly with survivor’s guilt. It’s the law.”
“I know. And not the tenure-track position, no. It really doesn’t exist yet, at least I don’t think so.”
“Then...not Tom’s job?! Or...have they created a second lectureship? That would be great!”
“No,” I said. “Not that kind of job. More like, um, a babysitting job. Like, you know, watching over Madison.”
Alex burst out laughing. “Oh Jesus,” he said. “Seriously? You’re not joking?”
“I’m not joking about the offer. I don’t know how serious he was about it, although he seemed pretty serious.”
“So, what, he was all like, ‘Gosh, my daughter’s so fucked up she can’t even stay in this shitty college I got her into with my influence, so maybe I’ll hire a goddamn PhD in Russian to be her personal babysitter and tutor?”
“Um...something like that, yeah.”
“So would you live with them? What exactly do the duties of this job entail? Are you supposed to be filling in for Madison’s absent mother in other ways as well?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Yeah, and he’s too smooth an operator to come out and say something like that straight out, at least not yet. But I saw how he looked at you, Rowena. I wouldn’t put it past him to extend the invitation sooner or later.”
“Um...yeah. I kind of got the same feeling.”
“So? Are you thinking of accepting?”
“Um...I don’t know! I mean, not that aspect of the offer, if it exists, obviously. But there’s the fact that I really don’t have anything else right now. I mean, despite just getting paid I currently have $300 to my name, counting what’s left on my credit card limit, a car that can’t shift into second gear half the time, a crabby cat with questionable bladder continence, and a very expensive diploma that won’t get me a job at McDonald’s. My other option is going and living in my brother’s apartment in Jacksonville.”
“Hmmm, yeah, I can see the dilemma. You could live in a shithole in the middle of nowhere and fuck a bunch of asshole Marines—and can I just say once again I think you should at least hold out for sailors, but I understand beggars can’t be choosers—just to pass the time and make up for all that enforced celibacy of grad school and maybe put a few dollars in your pocket, because, unless the Marines pay a lot better than the Navy did, your brother isn’t going to be able to support you for long even if he’d be willing to. Or you could live in Princeton, because that’s where our fine Provost lives, of course—no New Brunswick for him!—and fuck one asshole academic with pretensions of grandeur and maybe sleep your way up the ladder into the ivory tower, or at least get your MRS degree and be nicely provided for.”
“That’s not what I’m going to do!”
“No, but those are your options,” said Alex.
“Not my only options!”
“No? What’s behind Door number 3, then?”
“Um...I don’t know! Go teach English as a second language in Russia?”
“Not a bad option,” agreed Alex, nodding. “You’d be finished as a serious academic, of course, or at least that’s what I’ve always been told whenever I’ve threatened to run off and do it in Marrakesh, but it might be better than nothing.”
