Alliance for Antrim

by Thomas Lombard

  ***

  Even though it was only a five-minute walk from the cafe to the campus, it was enough time for Nevin to waver. The reality of his situation began to cause him increasing anxiety. Despite his reputation for precision and accuracy when it came to teaching the sciences, he had not made any plans for his future. He chastised himself for getting into this fix. Despite the great number of college courses he had taken, he was unwilling to conform to a formal degree program. Although he had accumulated more credits than many graduate programs required, he preferred to pursue knowledge without encumbrances.

  He had immersed himself in coursework from many fields. Botany, geology, philology and physics were his favorites but he like other fields nearly as much. One of his supportive professors referred to these pursuits as “academic bingeing,” but she admired his ability to bring together overlapping knowledge from different fields of study. She encouraged him to continue his unorthodox approach to his own education, yet she warned him that without an advanced degree he would have no “union card” for employment as a teacher, particularly at the college level. He did not worry about that admonition because he was satisfied with the modest living he made as a Lecturer, which he supplemented with income from an occasional magazine article. Now, the lack of a formal degree meant he would lose his job at Hempstead.

  He had found great pleasure from his path of self-directed learning because he had unencumbered freedom to explore whatever problems or applications he chose. This degree of freedom was, ironically, not readily available in graduate degree programs. There were too many required courses with strict syllabi, reinforced by oppressively narrow viewpoints by professors who were specialized in one, or at most two fields of knowledge. Despite his straits now, he was satisfied he had gone about his education the best way for him. Young as he was, he was his own man. His one regret was a population of one made for a pretty small universe.

  Nevin reached the steps of the Science Building and stopped to take a deep breath to calm himself. His last class awaited him.

  After entering the building, he went directly to the large classroom on the first floor. The room was designed in the European style, requiring two stories with cascading rows of seats arranged in a wide semicircle. Several ascending aisles were steeply angled. Just in front of the bottom row of seats, a lectern was situated in the center of the floor. Both the seating and the lighting directed unobstructed attention from the seats down toward this lectern, isolating the person who stood there. Nevin disliked this lecture room because its design made it difficult to promote discussion among the students.

  Nevin stopped at the classroom door, completely taken by surprise at what he saw. The room was filled to overflowing. Every seat was taken, every step in the aisles occupied. There were dozens more seated on the floor around the lectern.

  When he appeared at the door, the rustling of idle movements and student chatter stopped immediately. All heads turned silently as he slowly moved toward the lectern. He took a moment to smile at the assemblage, scanning the rows from left to right and bottom to top. They were there to express appreciation for his skills as a teacher and scholar. This show of support was a far better indicator of one’s professorial skills than the completion of a pedantic doctoral program, he thought, but his standing as a teacher was a lost battle. Better to get this over with without complaining. He smiled broadly and spoke to the group. “Well. . .this is quite a turnout for our last class. And at eight o’clock in the morning, no less. If there is one thing I have learned from you, it is a repudiation of the myth that college students cannot wake up before noon.” There was muted tittering.

  He continued, “You have accomplished a lot as a class over this semester, as have those of you who came today but took this course at other times.” His glance fell to a dark-haired woman in a wheelchair among the students seated around the lectern. “Ms. Hanson, here,” he nodded and extended an open hand toward her, “has a four-year attendance record for this course—second only to my own.”A brief snuffle of laughter ensued with a gracious smile from the young woman. “I thank you for your interest, Ms. Hanson, and the support and interest the rest of you have shown for this course. I hope the person who teaches this class in the future will enjoy it as much as I.” The dark-haired woman nodded at this acknowledgment, along with several others who lowered or turned their heads to hide their feelings. Nevin cleared his throat to stifle the lump.

  “We have had spirited debates in this class over some important problems and the role science can play in solving those problems. Many of you have changed your views. . .repeatedly, it seems. . .and sometimes found yourselves arguing both sides of issues. Some of you, like Mr. Thompson, argued both sides of an issue so well I thought you might have been twins.”It was a feeble attempt at humor, but the best he could do under the circumstances. More students grinned and the laughter grew a little louder.

  “Mr. Thompson, here,” Nevin said, acknowledging a student in the front row, “went back and forth so often on acid rain, we couldn’t tell whether he wanted to own a steel company or convert one into a city park.” Their mirthful reaction indicated their enjoyment of these heated debates with Thompson, who was one of the few students in this class who would argue from a pro-business viewpoint.

  “Most of you probably don’t know that Mr. Thompson’s family does, in fact, own a steel mill, and he has the opportunity to become its Chief Executive Officer. I don’t think he would mind if I shared with you some conclusions he has reached from our debates in this class. The research paper he submitted for this course offers a planned diversification for a steel mill. As you might expect, his plan provides for expansion and a profit motive. However, he proposes to develop voluntary retraining for employees as the company experiments with new ventures. In order to recoup the cost of pollution control, which Mr. Thompson feels must be mandated by law, he proposes to recycle the mill’s fly ash. He has discovered that the ash can be used in the construction of earth-wall homes, although economically it is a break-even proposition at best. It might surprise some of you, particularly those of you who view science from the left side of the political spectrum, that Mr. Thompson has come to think that some business ventures only need to break even if they provide a needed public service. Many of the ideas in his steel mill proposal came from those of you who argued hardest with him—which, from my perspective, ladies and gentlemen, demonstrates how the world gets improved through scientific discourse.”Nevin nodded at the young man in the first row, who was obviously sheepish about the attention.

  “Mr. Thompson,” Nevin paused. “It is scholarly efforts like yours that make me regret this is only a pass/fail course. By any standard, you deserve an A grade, both as a student and as a concerned human being.” The class responded with a vigorous applause, which now thoroughly embarrassed the young man.

  Nevin waited for quiet and addressed the class again. “Until last night, I wasn’t sure what topic we should discuss for our last session. There is no shortage of problems or marvelous scientific advances in our world, but I thought it would be great if we could go out with a bang. It occurred to me that’s just what we are facing—maybe the biggest bang of all. Our country is on poor political terms with nearly all countries in the Middle East and North Korea. Many of our national leaders seem willing to fight another war to retain our access to imported crude oil, the natural resource upon which much of our scientific advancement is dependent. The arsenals for our respective countries include an array of chemical weapons, a dozen types of bombs and guns with infrared scopes. For the first time in history, night fighting for the infantry is as feasible as daytime. Science is playing a greater role than ever before in military strategy. Even nuclear weaponry is back on the table. What do you think about these applications of science to your world?”

  Nevin looked around the class. No one responded or seemed likely to volunteer, which slightly disturbed him. Maybe he was grandstanding too much, something that he al
ways tried to keep under strict control. Eventually he spotted a frowning face half way up the center section of seats. “Ms. Harmon. I see you look puzzled. What do you think science offers us in this scenario?”

  The student squirmed in her seat, visibly uncomfortable about being singled out. Nevin knew that she was a freshman, less than a year from high school, and was probably intimidated by today’s unusually large audience. He tried to put her at ease.

  “Ms. Harmon, forget that all of these people are here and just talk to me. You’ve done that before without undue suffering, I think. Now tell me how science can help resolve impending war.”

  “Gee, Professor Reasoner. . .I don’t think I know. Sometimes this stuff you talk about is over my head and I don’t know what to think.”

  “Ms. Harmon,” Nevin replied in a patient voice, “We have talked in my office and I believe you have answers to these questions. If you think this stuff is over your head, then lift your head higher. Now tell me, what are your immediate thoughts about the scientific implications of this political dilemma over oil reserves.”

  The young woman’s face turned more serious. She slightly tilted her head to one side and weakly waved a hand before she spoke. “Well, it seems sorta like we need their oil too badly. We should find another place to get some.”

  “What if there were no other sources?”

  “Well. . .I guess I would find something else to take its place. The oil, I mean.”

  “That makes sense, Ms. Harmon. What are some things we use a lot of oil for?” Nevin proceeded to engage the young student in a conversation where he asked questions to which she had ready answers. She suggested the use of alternative fuel sources like propane, electricity and solar power. In response to more provocative questions, she got around to an idea about revamping the nation’s trucking system to dedicated routes. He posed a final question to her.

  “That’s an interesting idea, Ms. Harmon. How would you limit trucks to their own roadways.”

  “I suppose I can think of a couple of ways,” the student replied, now unembarrassed and engrossed in the dialogue. “We could use those big median strips on freeways. The cars would use the regular freeway lanes and the center median would only have trucks or maybe truck-trains. Maybe another thing we could do is re-use old train tracks. It wouldn’t be a big deal to convert railroad tracks to handle trucks only.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Harmon. Perhaps we could sell the used train tracks to Mr. Thompson. He could recycle it in his steel mill and make up some of the money he’ll lose on pollution control.” The entire class laughed, appreciating the lively exchange of ideas. Nevin thoroughly enjoyed these moments and it was this very experience he would miss most. There was no substitute for this interaction, at least in his life. A lump in his throat started to come back.

  After pacing along the front row of seats, Nevin placed an arm on the lectern and faced the class. He tried again to look at every face. Without prepared notes or forethought for handling this situation, his discomfort rose with the increasing emotional climate that charged the room. He looked down and clasped his hands together, lightly thumping his chest. It was an awkward moment and he was not sure just what to say.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, today’s class was an example of both the pleasure and importance that comes from being a teacher. As Mr. Thompson and Ms. Harmon have shown, all I have to do is ask questions. The answers are in your heads.”

  Bodies stirred in their seats and several of the students started looking at each other as if they were seeking someone to stand up and speak for them. Nevin detected this and wanted to spare them, or maybe himself. He spread his arms in a gesture of openness and collected their attention once again. “Just so we don’t get too sentimental about this being our last class, I want to thank you for being good students. And as a last tribute to your good work, I am going to let you out early. With a wave, he added, “Thank you all and good-by.”

  Nevin slowly turned to leave but halted as he heard the beginning claps of applause. An ovation mounted. He put a hand on the lectern and turned to face the class as the entire assemblage rose to a standing applause. Many of the students were teary-eyed, but all of them were touched by this teacher’s unconditional regard for their opinions and ideals. A little taken aback by this tribute, he was momentarily confused about what to do next. Then he did what they all would have predicted, he smiled meekly and gave an unpretentious wave as he quickly left the classroom.