"THE LEGISLATURE WILL CALL ME!" YELLED THE DEAN OF THE COLLEGE WHERE I TAUGHT HISTORY
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All drawings by Harald Wolff
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Background:
On May 4, 1970 the National Guard fired on 300 unarmed students protesting the Vietnam War, killing four. It is remembered as "The Kent State* Massacre."
*A public university of the State of Ohio
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The government then proposed that police follow classes in State colleges, with salary increases if they received passing grades. It hoped that familiarity would lessen hostility between students and forces of order, the attitude that lay behind the shooting.
One of those institutions was "William Paterson College in the State of New Jersey" (now William Paterson University), where I taught.
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When students demonstrated against that decision I wrote an article for the school paper, called "Why the Cops are Brothers." It said that the reason for joining the police was not to attack kids, but for job security.
I volunteered to teach the cops, on condition of telling them that I was a Marxist. "Well, I guess you know what you're doing," the department head said.
Things didn't start well...
"Hi, Baby!"
But my assistant was delighted:
I had asked her to pass out a questionnaire and a reading list. It so happened that the last class in the room had been informal, the students sitting in a circle instead of in the usual lines. When she came back she exclaimed with delight, "I told the cops to put their chairs in line, and they did!" For a young Black girl to tell the cops what to do and have them obey was extraordinary.The police wore civilian clothes but carried hidden guns. Of the thirty, all but one were white. They looked very different from the students, though many were not much older. Their faces were hard. Some had fought in Vietnam.
On meeting them I said, "There's a rumor going around that I'm a nun. That's not true. There's another that I'm a Marxist. That is true."A man at the back of the room got up, walked out and slammed the door.
I went on with the class, saying that Marxism had nothing to do with the gulag but showed how basic change comes from economic forces, and that understanding them helps identify the enemy correctly.
The next day the Dean called me in, as the first drawing shows. I said that I had freedom of speech.
An hour later, the head of the Police program also called me in: "The men are sorry" he said. "They know that telling the Dean was not right. The man who did it is going through a hard time. His wife had a miscarriage. I hope you will forgive him."
A group came up to me and apologized for "Tommy."
We became friends, and I invited him over. He came in, sat down, put his gun on my table — and fell asleep. That showed the extent of his stress, that it vanished in my presence and that he trusted me. Giving a civilian access to his gun could have gotten him fired.
To get to know the cops, I asked them to write an essay on why they had chosen that profession. A certain Richard Wright wrote 30 brilliant pages.
He came from a town 20 miles from a famous university (Princeton), but when I asked him if he had applied for admission there, he said he had never heard of it. He was from the far right and stayed wary of me, but he was one of the most intelligent people I have ever met: Had he come come from a more favored background he could have had an outstanding career, as a lawyer for example.
Leftist students would sit in on the classes. They, the cops and I were of the same generation. We would gather to play records and talk:
I asked one of the cops if next time he'd bring his wife."No," he said, "She thinks the kids would look down on her." Another said, "When I'm in uniform, even the president of this college respects me."
The Dean did not forget the encounter the first drawing shows, and I did not receive tenure. That caused an uproar.
The cops did not join the demonstrations (they would have lost their jobs if they had), but stood by and smiled.
My last memory:
"Hi, Ritchie, we'll tell you where the bombs are."
"Ho ho!"
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Did they become Marxists? Of course not. Did they come to like and respect people who thought differently? I think so, as did the kids.
Those classes with the police are my most memorable teaching experience, and I have thought of them often in writing this blook.
# # #
I was preparing a doctoral thesis
in African history
and left to do research in the Ivory Coast.
I had married a Frenchman
and supposed I'd find a university job in France.
That turned out to be impossible without a French degree,
not to mention that to join the national educational system
one became a civil servant,
and for that one had to be French by birth.
So I continued to teach in another way,
as a tour guide.
In preparing a visit on La Commune,
I discovered a catastrophe
like that of Kent State...
