The Free College of Saint Peter is currently seeking applicants for a wide range of professorships. All positions are lifetime appointments, available only to highly qualified applicants with substantial experience. Professors may continue at The Free College for as long as they feel inclined to do so.
If you have excellent credentials but have been “downsized” or summarily “retired” for financial reasons, we at The Free College of Saint Peter are interested in you. There is no age limit for applicants, stated or unstated. All applicants are welcome to apply online. Every consideration will be given to those who apply, regardless of their circumstances or medical history. We are searching for applicants who exemplify the mission of The Free College: “To engage with curious young minds in the best tradition of the liberal arts, to seek truth across disciplines, to disregard traditional academic boundaries, to ask the right questions fearlessly, to offer unparalleled student-centered education.”
The Free College of Saint Peter was established by a group of anonymous donors who have contributed resources adequate to offer a free education to all students who qualify for admission, regardless of their background, religion, nationality, gender, skin color, or financial circumstances. Those who can contribute financially to the operation of The Free College are encouraged to do so, however this is not a requirement. All professorships are endowed, rendering terminations for financial exigency impossible. Every student and every professor who remains true to the mission will not need to be concerned about money for the length of their participation in our academic community.
If you believe you may qualify for a position at The Free College of Saint Peter, please apply now. Our spring search period ends soon. Thank you for considering The Free College.
Marcus pushed back from his computer. “Now, there’s something you don’t see every day,” he said to himself. He had been talking to himself quite a bit since he was “retired” from his job after close to four decades of loyal service. He was caught in a sort of limbo between understanding the nature of the financial problem, yet not wanting to accept that all the terminations were “necessary.” Dozens of his colleagues were told their contracts would not be renewed. In effect, tenure no longer existed, and Marcus still had doubts about the process. One thought kept running through his mind, “Not everything that counts can be counted, and not everything that can be counted counts.” His former institution was indeed pressed for cash, and enrollment was declining, yet Marcus couldn’t escape the feeling that somehow the “integrity” leaders promised was lacking. But it was what it was. He was grateful for his long tenure and the many students he had worked with over the years. The day he was told he would not be receiving a contract, he went to his classes and taught to the best of his ability. He finished the year teaching and putting students first. It took every ounce of professionalism he possessed, but he did not complain or disparage his university. To use a popular phrase, he tried to “keep calm and carry on.”
The ad on his screen offered hope that he might have a little more to offer. Maybe, just maybe, he could spend a few more years doing the thing he loved. For nearly four decades, students were the reason he went to work. Not that they were all gifted, or even good. Those who grew, those who made the most of their short time in college were an endless source of pride and satisfaction. He learned a great deal from them just as he did his best to provide what they needed. He often wondered what more time with them might bring. The problem with college, with school in general, is the time limit. Four or five years to help someone take charge of their learning, their life. It seemed so arbitrary, yet it was necessary. We all need to move on.
Fortunately, Marcus still had all his vita information. He also had a blog on his literary website. He felt he had to have something to do to channel his creativity now that he was no longer in the classroom or teaching “lessons.” He had written hundreds of thousands of words attempting to tell stories and share a little wisdom – all of it ultimately was an attempt to share his own story, before it was too late. He had seen family members and friends slide into dementia and Alzheimer’s, only to perish in a nursing home, surrounded by people who couldn’t care less what they thought, not to mention what they did in their short career on the Earth.
He clicked on, “apply now.” What did he have to lose, really? It was worth a try. He had been “over the hill” academically for 20 years already. What was one more rejection? “If this is meant to be, it will happen. If not, I’ll just keep writing…” he thought.
Marcus sent everything he could think of. Links to his blog posts, copies of his teaching materials, testimonials from his former students. He held nothing back. When he at last clicked on, “confirm,” it struck him that the application did not ask for formal recommendations. There was no way to send letters from administrators or others typically involved in such a process. He sent a link to several of his former students, so they could comment, which seemed to be a novelty in this process, but nothing was asked from those who “supervised” him. He thought it was just as well, since he could count on one hand the number of times an administrator had visited his classes in 38 years. The same was true of the number of minutes they stayed. “And these people had a hand in my termination,” he thought. “You can’t count a thing unless you take the time to count it in the first place.”
Immediately, a text message arrived. We have received your application, Marcus. Please be patient. You will receive a thorough reply or a letter requesting an in-person meeting in two to four weeks. Thank you for applying to The Free College of Saint Peter.
“That’s something I rarely saw in my career,” Marcus said to himself. “A quick and direct response.” He hoped he was in the running, but he knew there would be thousands of people interested. Time would tell.
Yet, he didn’t tell his wife. She was happy in retirement. There was no sense getting her stirred up unless he actually got a job offer, which was an exceedingly remote possibility. This application would probably amount to nothing and life would go on. No need to worry her or anyone else. And he really would be fine with it either way. He loved his wife and was looking forward to travelling and checking in on the kids and grandkids. But…But, a part of him wanted to spend time with students again. He tried to be nonchalant. “I had a nice career. It’s time for some new blood. Younger teachers deserve a chance.”
Two weeks passed. Then three. Four days into the fourth week, an email arrived. Marcus Malone: You have been selected to attend an in-person interview at The Free College of Saint Peter. All expenses have been paid and travel arrangements have been made. On Monday morning at 9:00 am, a car will be sent to take you to the airport. Please bring an overnight bag only. You need not bring any documents or other materials. These will not be necessary. Our committee is interested in meeting you, not your possessions. Rest assured, your application and student comments have already provided enough information. We look forward to meeting you.
This news shook Marcus to the core. Mainly because he would need to tell his wife. At first, she was not happy, to say the least, but after repeated assurances that he was just going to have a look and would not decide anything until they had a chance to talk about it, her reaction softened – somewhat. He told her he wouldn’t even consider it unless the situation was just right. He promised to turn them down if anything seemed out-of-place. “I wasn’t born yesterday,” he said. “I want what’s best for both of us.”
The limo arrived and took Marcus to the airport, where a private jet was waiting. “Now, there’s another thing you don’t see every day,” he thought. “A teacher being treated like a CEO candidate. Talk about the way things ought to be…”
The flight went smoothly. Marcus began to think The Free College should have included “hospitality” in its mission statement. The young flight attendant made him feel very welcome, and borderline embarrassed that he was receiving such kind attention before he had even done anything to deserve it. The young lady was charming, reassuring, and later he would think she had an angelic quality about her. Time seemed to pass quickly. She sat across from him. They talked about music, philosophy, justice, mercy, wisdom, and some of the great teachers they had met. Another Einsteinian thought occurred to Marcus. “When you sit with a nice girl for two hours you think it’s only a minute, but when you sit on a hot stove for a minute you think it’s two hours. That’s relativity.” The two-hour flight seemed to take two minutes. Marcus was reminded of all those informal conversations in his office or after class when he wished they could have gone on forever. But they couldn’t. There were other classes. There was life to live. Nevertheless, for two hours or two minutes, Marcus felt young again. And that was something.
When he arrived for his interview, there were five others in attendance. An older gentleman seemed like he was in charge. The man impressed Marcus with a Morgan Freeman voice and an air of authority to match. The other four were apparently students, two young men, and two young women. They seemed to know everything they needed to know about his career, and even about things he had not specifically shared. As they talked became clear to him that they had read every word he had ever written and were ready to challenge him and “pick his brain” on all of it. He didn’t mind. And he lost all track of time. The interview seemed to be more of a lively conversation than an inquisition. Again, a refreshing thing, after so many committee meetings and presentations where he often felt like he was “on the spot.” The young people looked at him with understanding, and he mused, a sense of eagerness to engage in discussion, to learn from him even as they shared what they knew. Their ideas added to his as he hoped his ideas added to theirs. He felt like a young professor again, when most students weren’t that much younger, and seemed more willing to just hang out and chat about things that mattered to them.
In the end, the Chairperson, who up to this point hadn’t said a lot, offered him a permanent position. He told Marcus that he would be working with eleven students. One class per term. The time of day would be chosen by consensus. Some classes preferred meeting early in the day, while others met later in the day. Class would last for as long as anyone wanted to talk. Generally, each class met for several hours at a time, but that too was up to him and the class. The subject matter was up to him, but most professors allowed their students “great latitude.” There were no boundaries, other than civility, respect, and curiosity. No topic was off-limits, however no personal axe-grinding was allowed, unless it was a matter of pure moral principle or a verifiable point of logic or evidence. Discussions at The Free College were not allowed to devolve into shouting matches or exchanges of barbs or insults. Ideas were paramount, not opinions or gossip. Free Thinking was encouraged, but not irresponsible thinking, much less words. Humor was also encouraged, but not at anyone’s expense. The Free College of Saint Peter aimed to be the zenith of fair play and inclusiveness. Those who did not believe in these things simply were not admitted or didn’t bother to apply.
Marcus learned that while The Free College was named after Saint Peter, it had no specific religious affiliation. When he mentioned that this seemed unusual, the Chairperson merely remarked that “Saints can arise in many religions,” and “more persons are Saints than most people know.” The position sounded too good to be true, yet Marcus found himself saying he would gladly and gratefully take it. The words were hardly out of his mouth when the students present surrounded him with hugs and the Chairman extended his hand, which also quickly became an embrace and a heartfelt, “welcome to The Free College. You may stay as long as you like.” The students were openly weeping. So was Marcus.
Others were weeping as well. The Pastor welcomed the small congregation, then said, “We are here today to celebrate the life of Dr. Marcus Malone, beloved husband, father, and professor. While we will all miss him greatly, we know that he will be pursuing his calling in the next life, unburdened by the troubles of this world, and loved by all the angels and the saints who have gone before him. Saint Peter is even now welcoming him through the gates of the great college above…”
MurrayWorks 