YOU'RE NOT IN IT FOR THE MONEY.

Retired Texas journalism professor Robert Jensen has suggestions for being a more cheerful academician.

Watching today’s heated debates over academic freedom and freedom of speech on campuses, I find myself sometimes itching to be back in the fight and at other times grateful that I retired five years ago. Though I’m out of the game, I find myself still intensely interested in joining the conversation. The debates of the moment are important, but my instinct from the sidelines is to offer what may seem trivial: a reminder of how much fun intellectual life can be.

The Prime Directive? Eschew Pomposity.

If it appears that I’m trying to poke fun at university professors’ self-indulgent tendency toward pomposity, I am. Since I am a university professor who occasionally can be self-indulgent and pompous, I have standing to poke fun. Frankly, we don’t poke fun at ourselves enough. That’s part of my teaching philosophy: Poke fun at myself, as often as possible, especially in front of students.

In this regard, poets perform an important service for professors. If we professors are ever tempted to claim that we have had an original insight into the human condition, we should pause and remember this: There’s at least one poet, and likely dozens, who had the insight long before we did and who expressed it far more eloquently than we could ever hope to do.

I don’t teach poetry, but I often read poetry to my class. That’s part of my teaching philosophy, to remind students that whatever the subject, poets have something important to say to us. I read to my students even though I have had no voice training and am not particularly good at reciting poetry. That’s part of my teaching philosophy, too. I think it’s healthy for students to see professors stumble. When every word we utter in class is precise and polished, it can create distance between professor and student. Students are too easily impressed by us, and they can come to believe we are our performances. Better that they see we are human beings, struggling and stumbling, so that intellectual work doesn’t appear to be something only specialists can do. Our job isn’t to be smart but to help students understand that they can be smart, too.

You eschew pomposity, dear colleague, because you are participating in a conversation in which nobody has a Final Say.

I’m more comfortable with ambiguity than when I was younger. As we age we have a choice. We can conclude that we’re right in our assertions about the world and proceed based on that assumption. Or we can conclude that we’re right and proceed based on the assumption that we’re missing something.

I have spent considerable time studying the role of news media in our culture, politics, and economy. I am confident that the assertions I make about that institution and those systems are compelling. I’m pretty sure that I’m right, and I argue strenuously that those assertions are the best way to understand journalism and society. And I also wonder about whether I’m indeed right.

Right, or still learning, it's still a pretty good gig.

I have the best job in the world. I get paid a salary that allows me to live comfortably and give back to the community. To earn this salary, I am asked to spend my time thinking, reading, writing, and talking, all things I enjoy doing even when not being paid. On occasion, I have to go to a boring meeting or file a stupid report, which can at times be annoying. But all in all, this is a really good gig. The least I can do is pay attention, be astonished, and tell about it with as much joy and passion as possible. When I do that, I think I’m a pretty good teacher, and I think I do that most every day I walk into the classroom.

And still, don't get too full of yourself.