Is This My Place (eBook)

One

The April sun shone warm, and the mountains of the Olympic Peninsula stood in majestic rows on the far shore of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. The end of the term meant freedom. Susan stretched her leg across the bench, took a sip of coffee, and admired the beauty of the distant snow-capped peaks. No more students complaining about a grade, no more lectures, exams, or assignments to prepare. The teaching and committee work were at an end, and the blissful summer, empty of professorial responsibilities, beckoned. She was free to return to the scientific life of research. Blessed liberty to finally implement the experiment lying fallow in her laboratory. Blessed liberty to complete the data analysis untouched for months. She felt the fatigue of endless commitments and the distress of delayed projects flow out of her and drift across the water to rest on the distant mountains.

Susan rose and tossed her empty coffee cup in the trash bin beside the bench. She took a lingering look at the mountains and turned toward the Victorian mansion called The Castle. It was an imposing 19th-century granite structure in the Tudor style, overlooking an expanse of well-groomed lawn that swept toward a sandy beach. The Castle housed the offices of the James Douglas University president and administration. The former kitchen had been transformed into a coffee shop with an outdoor veranda, a favorite gathering spot for both faculty and students. Benches were scattered across the lawn in front of the building, but Susan always chose a bench near the area where the grass melted into the sand of the beach. On a perfect day like today, it was the ideal place to sip coffee while enjoying the unparalleled splendor of the mountains and sea.

Susan sauntered toward the walkway leading upward to the main campus. She surveyed the manicured beauty of the university grounds as she trudged up the hill. The upper main campus was dotted with stands of trees amid trimmed lawns separating the various academic buildings. Unlike The Castle, the remaining campus structures were relatively new. They were stalwart, boxy, cinder block and brick construction lacking the grandeur of The Castle’s gilded age. Mammoth azalea bushes, clustered in well-groomed beds around the buildings, softened their stark exteriors.

Susan walked toward the Angus Building, home of the psychology department. She was an innocent about British Columbia and the city of Victoria when she arrived as a new PhD straight from graduate school in New York City. From the first days, she marveled at the natural beauty of the region and of the campus. Victoria rested in a scenic spot on the banks of the Strait of Juan de Fuca, an international border with Washington in the United States. Susan gradually adapted to her new life in Canada. Instead of “napkins” she said “serviettes,” said “zed” instead of “z,” “suites” instead of “apartments,” and “holiday” instead of “vacation.” She, like the locals, referred to destinations on Vancouver Island north of Victoria as “up island,” and to the vast area of British Columbia not on Vancouver Island as “the mainland.” She was enrolled in French classes, determined to gain knowledge of both of Canada’s official languages. Her comfort with the country and its culture increased each year, as did her acceptance of the formal title of “Dr. Barron” used by her students.

Unfortunately, what had not changed was her sense of academic isolation. She had few friends in her department and her professional activities were ignored by her colleagues. Her collaboration with Dan Kavline, her former dissertation advisor and a professor at the University of Vancouver, was her major source of intellectual stimulation. Her occasional trips to U of V provided the collegial support and interaction she craved but did not receive in her own department at JDU.

Susan had a meeting with Jim Kracknoy, the department chairman, this afternoon. He wanted to discuss plans for her tenure application. His note mentioned an accelerated schedule in her case. Tenure was the gold medal sought by all academics, as Dan liked to remind her. Tenure would bring luxurious freedoms not enjoyed now. The anxiety over student complaints about her courses and her teaching would disappear. She would not despair when a research paper, labored over for months, was rejected by a professional journal. The pressure to publish fast and in the right journals would ebb. The granting of tenure signaled a validation that her work was valued by her colleagues. That was the satisfaction part, but still she felt uneasy. She feared being stuck at JDU, unable to move to another position. The JDU campus was physically beautiful, but the intellectual climate left her lonely and unfulfilled. She longed to interact on a regular basis with like-minded colleagues who understood and were excited about research. The JDU department was not the scholarly atmosphere she sought, and the advantages of tenure would not change the situation. Would tenure be a trap that diminished her chances to move to a department better suited to her academic interests and needs?

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“Susan, come in.”

Jim Kracknoy stood and beckoned Susan toward the sofa in the room. He closed his office door and pulled a chair beside his desk to face her. Susan liked the soothing coziness of Jim’s office. She appreciated the smooth texture of his leather sofa, the dramatic red and blue swirls of the area rug in front of a wall of bookcases, and the lingering scent of brewed coffee. His homey workspace was as inviting as Jim himself. His slim athletic build and avuncular style had not changed over the years. A few more grey hairs and the occasional complaint about a chronic shoulder injury were the only signs that Jim was aging. Susan was fond of Jim and spent many hours in this room seeking his advice.

“I’m glad you didn’t move your office when you became chairman. The official chairman’s office that Giles Plimley-Jones preferred is so impersonal and stark compared to this room.”

Jim agreed. “I’m acting chairman for only a short time, and it seemed cruel to displace Giles from a prized status symbol after he stepped down from the position.”

Susan seized the opportunity to ask Jim about the mystery of Giles’s departure from the chairmanship. “What happened with Giles? He wasn’t much of a chairman, but one day he was there and the next day, you were the chairman. A head-spinning turn of events that doesn’t happen much around here.”

Jim laughed. “You’re right, it was unusual. Giles will never get over it, but he’s stopped complaining, at least to me.” Jim gave Susan a conspiratorial look. “Giles will retire in a couple of years and be gone, so what’s the point of keeping his departure from the chairmanship a secret?” Susan nodded eager to hear the story.

Jim relaxed into his chair and drummed his fingertips rhythmically on the top of his desk. “Giles’s daughter, Fiona, applied to the neuropsychology graduate program to work with Otto Hartmann. Otto refused to accept her as a student while Giles was the chairman. He argued Giles’s hostility toward the faculty would make it impossible to form a dissertation committee for Fiona. Otto claimed he couldn’t reassure faculty that academic decisions about Giles’s daughter, especially if they were negative, would have no impact on their careers. Giles as chairman has done damage to faculty in the past.” Jim stopped when he saw Susan frown. “You never forgave Giles for the Lucas Selkirk business, did you?” he asked.

“Lucas is a good example of the havoc Giles could wreak and, you’re right, I never forgave him. I don’t know whether Lucas would’ve stayed in the department, but Giles didn’t make it an attractive option with his behind-the-scenes dirty tricks to undermine him.” Susan’s tone was bitter. “So, Giles’s well-deserved reputation for devious power plays came back to haunt him—that’s ironic but good to hear.”

Jim chuckled. “Otto brought the situation to the department executive committee last spring and the committee agreed. If Fiona was to be admitted for the upcoming fall term, Giles had to give up the chairmanship. Giles was incensed. He went to the dean and the president, but both sided with the committee. There were too many possible nasty entanglements if Fiona was a graduate student and Giles was the department chairman.” Jim smiled at Susan’s grin. “Giles sulked all summer, and then one day in late August he marched into this office, threw a stack of files on the desk, and barked ‘You do it, I resign.’ A few hours later the dean called to tell me about Giles’s letter of resignation. He asked if he could appoint me as acting chairman. Since I was the assistant chairman, I thought I had little choice but to agree.”

Susan was sympathetic. “It must have been a stressful time last summer. A Giles temper tantrum is hard to take—even a short-term one.”

“Giles’s simmering rage is unabated, but Fiona is working out well with Otto as her advisor. I think she pressured her father—probably said something like ‘You’ve been chairman long enough, give me a chance.’ Having a daughter, I know how they can be.” Jim chuckled softly to himself.

Slapping his knees, Jim rose from his chair and turned to rummage through his desk. He emerged with a box of chocolate mints and popped one into his mouth. He offered the box to Susan, who accepted one. “Now, let’s talk about your tenure.” Susan stiffened. She preferred to hear more gossip about Giles and his daughter.