The Chameleon

      In February, Ted looked at his course evaluations for the fall semester. He was an eternal optimist when it came to teaching. He had worked hard on that course, intending to improve it, make it more popular. The first comment he saw said that “the professor was boring and didn’t seem to know the material very well.” Wow, that hurt. One or two comments like that shouldn’t hurt, but that’s not the way it works. A couple of zingers wiped out a dozen positive comments in his mind. He looked at the summaries. Not bad. In fact, the evaluations weren’t bad at all, and in a better mood he might have said “Good, better than last time I taught that course. And I know a thing or two that will improve it next time.” But that first comment stuck in his head.

      His mood had been dark that day from its beginning. He’d been seeing a less affectionate Annie, and that had worn on him and left him feeling down. And he knew that when he was depressed he was not the same man that Annie had fallen for. He had been a star to her, about to be promoted to full professor, well-known in his field, powerful, experienced in life and in love. Fun to be with. Taking her places she’d not been. Conferences in the Big Apple and in the French countryside. Now it was work, work, work, and work has made Ted a dull boy.

      He had a beer with Al, his closest friend in the department. Al had been concerned about Ted, noting that Ted hadn’t been dropping by to chat as much. Al and his wife were missing Ted and Annie. Al was doing fine, he said. But Ted? Ted told Al the story of his course evaluations. Al had seen them – – they were public – – and hadn’t noticed anything special. Seemed pretty good, in fact. Al always got very positive evaluations. Ted wished his were as good, but on the other hand, Ted’s academic standing was higher; Al just wasn’t getting anything published. Not a good thing to talk about, and they didn’t. New restaurants was a more enjoyable topic.

      In March the paper that Ted had submitted months earlier, the paper that would be admired, earn him respect and praise, make him feel like a first-rate academic, was not accepted. What?? He read and reread the editor’s letter and the reviewers’ evaluations. “Jesus, what a crock of shit,” he exclaimed, tossing the various sheets into the wastebasket next to his desk – – then retrieving them and beginning to read them again. One of the reviewers seemed to have missed the whole point. Another found some fault with his statistical analyses. There were only those two reviewers plus the editor, and the work was outside his area of competence. The editor did say that if he, Ted, strongly wanted more reviewers, the editor would send the paper to another person. “Goddamn right,” Ted thought, and decided to write the editor to that effect.

      So the paper wasn’t really rejected, he realized as he read the editor’s letter again. But he was pissed off anyway, and found himself unable to concentrate on the new paper he was beginning to write. He stopped in Al’s office and they chatted for a bit. But Al was busy with something so Ted returned and thought some more about his paper, then about his mistakes with his teaching, then about his mistakes with Annie. Not being a good partner, he thought.

      By the end of the month Ted had written a long and carefully constructed letter to the journal editor in which he addressed several criticisms and suggested further reviews by experts in the area. He didn’t name the experts, though, because the reviews are to be anonymous, and the editor might not send the paper to anyone he’d named. It would be at least another two months before he heard again, he figured. That’s just the way it was. Slow, slow

      Ted’s teaching assignment was reduced for this semester because he was serving as Acting Chair while Ruth, the Department Chair, was on leave because of a serious personal problem that she was attending to. Before she left they had a chat about his annual report regarding his work and his plans. This was a fairly routine event, and Ted had not been concerned. But their conversation had not been as pleasant as expected. There seemed to be an unfriendly edge to her voice, and she hadn’t been as sympathetic as he’d anticipated. It was brief, and his impression was that Ruth thought that he was not quite keeping up, not achieving as much as he should have been.

      The administrative work to fill in for Ruth was not onerous or time-consuming. But there was one thing that was a problem. A junior colleague was up for tenure, and the review committee had submitted a report that would result in denial. The guy would have to leave, find a new position elsewhere, which was not going to be easy the way the academic marketplace was at the moment. But the worst thing from Ted’s point of view was that it would be Ted to meet with the guy and talk about this unpleasant reality. The appointment was coming up the same afternoon that he’d gotten the editor’s letter.

      Very bad timing. An unpleasant task, made worse by Ted not fully understanding the Promotion Committee’s report. The young guy, Fred, had very good teaching evaluations. Exceptionally good for such an inexperienced teacher with a class of more than 200 students that most of the faculty didn’t want to teach. But Fred had not published anything the previous year and what he’d coauthored earlier was perhaps mainly due to the ideas of his Ph.D. advisor back three years ago. On the other hand, the kind of work that Fred did was notoriously slow to do, requiring unusual time and patience. The Promotion Committee didn’t seem to believe that Fred had made adequate progress. This kind of work was outside Ted’s area of expertise, so he was in no position to challenge the decision, but it seemed a bit harsh.

      At least he wouldn’t be the one breaking the bad news to Fred. No doubt a senior colleague who knew the score and who knew him better would have discussed all this with Fred. Ted would commiserate a bit and offer advise about the best way to carry on with his career. But that’s not how it went at all. Fred obviously had been expecting good news. The conversation was a disaster, and Fred ended up slamming the door closed on his way out. Ted sat there stunned, replaying what had happened and asking why.

      It took a few minutes to figure out what must have led to this situation. It must be that someone gave Fred misleading feedback. Someone who should have prepared him for the bad news had, instead, misled him to expect the opposite. Someone didn’t have the courage to be honest with Fred and had left the dirty work to Ted.  

      In late April Ted got bad news about his National Science Foundation grant. Huge cut in funds. Pretty negative comments about what Ted had accomplished and what he planned. Ted hadn’t seen that coming. He thought about phoning the guy in Washington who was overseeing those grants and trying to get a better idea of what was what and just what Ted might do to get some of the money reallocated and just what this guy was thinking. But right now he had a couple of other issues to deal with.

      May came and he’d done nothing about the grant. He closed his office door and thought about how he’d done nothing, really, about any of the issues that had worn him down. Bad, bad thoughts. The career that was at the core of his being was a failure. Mediocre scholar, mediocre teacher, less than mediocre husband. Into his forties with an expanding belly. Tears came to his eyes. He ignored a tapping on his door. Couldn’t see anyone in this condition.

      What is the rational step here, he asked himself as he lay in bed, Annie already asleep. When a person is failing at something the rational step is either to leave the playing field or find a new game. Pretty late to find a new game, he thought. “What could I be good at?” Nothing came to mind. Then something did. He be a great father. His father had been a fine father and he would too. Whoa, wait a moment, buddy. One thing that made it easier for him and Annie to launch into marriage after a brief fling was that they agreed, “No kids.”  But now Ted was feeling unexpectedly different about that and wasn’t sure why.

      They both wanted careers. His had been thriving. Annie was bright and energetic and had an academic career in mind when she began graduate school. That hadn’t worked out yet but there was time. Kids would send her – – them – – in a different direction. Anyway, what kind of a father would he really be? He thought of his father’s younger brother, Bob. He’s liked his Uncle Bob, but Bob had been hospitalized twice with depression when a young man, then died young in what might or might not have been an accident.  Now Ted seemed headed in that direction. He tried to push those troublesome thoughts aside. Sleep, finally.

      What a relief it was to have too busy a morning to think about all those troubles. But the thoughts were back in the afternoon when he’d finished teaching, and Al was nowhere to be found when he stopped by to propose a beer. So it was back to the office. The mail was in, the mail that seemed to bring nothing but bad news. Time now to open it as well as going through the emails that had piled up today. First call Annie, who had left a message while he was trying to find Al. Annie sounded odd it when she asked if he might come home a bit early and have dinner out. Oh, oh.

      It was only four. He opened the letter from D.C. Good news! Apparently Congress approved additional money for NSF and some of what was cut will be restored. He almost smiled.

      A tap at the door. Fred. Oh, shit, thinking of Fred’s reaction earlier to the bad news. But this was a different Fred. “Ted, I want to apologize for the way I acted the other day. I realize that I shot the messenger. You’ve always been nice to me and although we didn’t get to know each other very well I wish that we had and I want to apologize for how I acted. They chatted for a few minutes, then Ted turned to an email that had just arrived from Ruth, hoping that it wasn’t bad news of some sort. It wasn’t. In fact it was another apology. “Ted, I felt bad about our conversation. I’d just had gotten some bad news and it was affecting me when we talked. I respect you as a colleague and value your friendship, so please forgive me for not showing that.” Wow, another apology. Great.

      Ted looked at the email from Ruth, hoping that it wasn’t bad news of some sort. It wasn’t. In fact it was another apology. “Ted, I felt bad about our conversation. I’d just had gotten some bad news and it was affecting me when we talked. I respect you as a colleague and value your friendship, so please forgive me for not showing that.” Wow. Great.

      Ted  headed off to meet Annie, stuffing the rest of the mail into his briefcase and,  feeling much better now, had a humorous exchange with a secretary on his way out.

      Annie was on the phone. Sounded like her sister. Time to open the letter from the journal editor, which he’d been contemplating with some apprehension. The letter was brief. The editor had gotten a review from a highly regarded person in the field who praised the paper and urged that it be published with minimal changes. What a relief. Ted felt strong enough to deal with whatever Annie’s concern might be.

      She looked serious, and she was. “I have something upsetting to tell you,” she began. Ted thought, “Jesus, she’s leaving me.”

      But that wasn’t it. “I’m pregnant,” she said, and became tearful. It was my fault entirely. I’d always been very careful, as you know, but not that one time. The truth is that I’ve been having the mother thoughts that we talked about a long time ago and that I said I didn’t have. I think that unconsciously I wanted to be pregnant, as unfair as that is to you. And I do know that it’s very unfair and I don’t want anything to come between us. I’ll do whatever.”

      It was an enjoyable evening.