Death of the Ayn Rand Scholar Gray Cavender (motivational novels for students .TXT) 📖

Arizona Territory. Anyway, ASU and U of A are such rivals that, regardless of the rest of the season, winning the Cup is ‘the thing.’ ASU has had a bad patch lately—not many wins—so now Davidos can snatch the rising young star for the Sun Devils and away from the evil clutches of the Wildcats…and can claim a victory. And, from what you’ve said, a real academic victory given who she is, what she studies, AND the awards…don’t forget those awards.”

Jillian laughed now, too. “You’re right, Wes, but wait…as they say, there’s more. The immediate reaction when ZZ arrived was 50:50…half the faculty was elated and wanted to schmooze with her...”

“And the other half?”

“Not happy. Some were jealous of the deal. Some thought it was too much too soon for such a young professor. Some were just flat-out angry about…the whole picture.

“Sounds a little like the reaction to Professor Siemens.”

“Exactly. Anyway, some of the naysayers were biding their time…waiting for her to fail…or to be only normal, not a star.”

“What happened then?”

“At first, nothing…in terms of research publications…silence.”

“The naysayers must have loved that.”

“Yes. I was in grad school by then and heard the negative talk…from some professors, so of course, from graduate students, too.”

“I sense that there’s about to be a ‘but then’ in your story…?”

Jillian gave a pronounced nod. “But then…Boom! Another book: this one on research methods. It was brilliant. More awards. And…”

“Don’t tell me…another companion volume?”

“Bingo. Articles demonstrating various research methods in the social sciences and the humanities…including some that were cutting edge. Her promotion to full professor was a breeze.”

“You like her, don’t you, Jilly? You light up when you talk about all her.”

“Yes, I do…I really respect her, Wes. She’s wicked smart, but, I don’t know, somehow, she’s still very accessible. She was a member of my graduate supervisory committee. I included her because she’s such a good methodologist, and it’s nice to have committee members who you trust.”

He nodded. “So, back to her time at ASU…the naysayers?”

Jillian shrugged, “They were quiet for a time, but it’s been a while now, and no new research.”

“What have you done lately, huh?”

“Right again.”

Wes said, “I guess it’s the same all over…you know, how you get ahead. Even in a university…where everyone is supposed to be so smart and above it all.” He was quiet for a moment as he worried his lower lip, the said, “But, wait a minute…don’t professors hire their own colleagues? When I was an undergrad, if professors applied for a job, they’d make a presentation and the faculty would show-up and ask questions. And, after they interviewed several job candidates, they’d vote, and then offer somebody the job. Was that just at the U of A and not at ASU?”

Jillian said, “I think it used to be like that…but not so much now. It may not be as crazy as what happened with ZZ…I mean, obviously, that thing in English last month when Professor Siemens attacked Professor Gilroy’s candidate…that was more along the lines that you’re describing. But, I don’t think universities aren’t all that democratic anymore. That’s what Ian Naremore is complaining about…like how Professor Siemens was hired. I think he was upset both about who she was, you know, ideologically, but also how her hiring happened.”

Jillian was quiet, then said, “I guess it can go either way…you can get someone like ZZ, who’s great, OR someone like Professor Siemens, who brings out a lot of bad feelings.”

Wes nodded, glanced at his watch, then said, “Well, thanks for the story…and for the food truck suggestion, but I’m thinking that maybe we should go grab a spot, given…whatever’s next.”

They tossed their trash in a waste can and headed out the main entrance of Wilson Hall…Jillian in the lead…ASU was her world. They cut along the sidewalk that angled left and took-up a position in front of Interdisciplinary A, a long, two-story yellowish-brown brick building that was across from the main entrance to the MU. Their spot near the main entrance gave them a good, unobtrusive view of what would soon be the center of action.

There was more activity now, including more students than what you’d normally see between classes, more police (plain clothes and uniforms), and a lot of media, including one helicopter…sometimes circling, sometimes hovering over the campus.

To their far right, standing beyond the Business complex and near the edge of campus, they could see a crowd of men who, even at that distance, didn’t look like students. Some of them carried signs although they were lowered…for now. They weren’t exactly milling about—they were too closely packed for that. Two media crews stood near the men.

Jillian and Wes looked about slowly, in sectors from the right—where the men were standing—to as far left as they could see…to the left of Wilson Hall. Jillian realized that she had tension in her shoulders. She glanced at Wes who looked casual, but alert.

In five or six minutes, the men left their scrum, and began a slow march (more of a shuffle, really) across campus and toward the fountain. They walked two abreast. The men made no noise…the only sounds were the everyday sounds of a very large campus, and now and then, of the helicopter.

The marchers were accompanied by several uniformed ASU police office hours on either side of their double line. The camera crews came too, and a new one appeared from the front of the MU…walking backward in front of the men…so that, on the news, the men would be seen slow-marching toward the audience. Each crew had three people, a cameraman, a person with a mic—two of these were women—and a third man, maybe a director or sound guy or something.

The marching men looked to be mostly in their 20s, some even late teens, with a couple who looked to be 30, maybe. Some of them seemed to be skinheads—hair, boots, tats—while others looked like disaffected teenage boys. Some of them, especially the younger ones, looked to Jillian as if they were