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How I Became a University Instructor at 53

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By David W. Johnson

I guess I'm one of the lucky ones: I was able to make a career shift into full-time college teaching at 53. I tell myself how lucky I am on days when I wonder about the possible truth of the saying, "Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach."

Most days I don't have the time to think about it. As a lecturer at Purdue University, I teach four classes, including an introduction to advertising course and upper-level classes in advertising writing and public relations. In the eyes of academe, I do grunt work. My position is not tenure-track. Yet it gives me the opportunity to teach students who want instruction from someone with professional experience. I have that experience.

For 12 years I was a daily journalist, arriving in the newsroom around 7 a.m. and cranking out stories for an afternoon newspaper. I covered enough night meetings to have a solid grasp on how potentially boring eternity could be.

At 35, I left journalism to become a publicist in the Harvard University Development Office. In my work, I often found myself explaining to younger writers and publicists how to write in the appropriate style or perform the task at hand. Sometime in the early 1980's, my staff assistant looked up from whatever project we were working on and said she thought I would make a good teacher. That planted the seed -- that I could teach at at the college level.

Later, working as director of communications at Phillips Exeter Academy among many excellent, dedicated teachers only confirmed this desire. I took every opportunity to teach that I could, from a mini-course on media to giving conference talks and guest lectures. When a faculty friend at Exeter became sick, I taught a couple of his English classes.

In one of those classes, I experienced what faculty members at Phillips Exeter call "a Harkness moment." Named for a benefactor, the Harkness system of instruction takes place around an oval seminar table. The teacher guides rather than leads the discussion. In my case, consideration of a key scene in Alan Paton's Too Late the Phalarope proved difficult until a student explained to another student -- and the class -- the meaning of a symbol in the scene. There was a collective "Aha" around the seminar table. This was heady stuff.

The transition has not always been smooth. During an interview at another prep school, when I suggested the possibility of teaching, a member of the search committee scoffed at the idea. She said I would be far too busy to even think about the classroom. Though I was the successful candidate, she was right. I was busy dealing with internal politics and finding a better job.

Eventually I found an administrative position at Pennsylvania State University where I could combine skills and interests in two of my favorite fields: communications and the arts. Once I had my bearings, I brought my classroom aspirations to the attention of the College of Communications. A year later the college offered me the chance to teach evenings as an adjunct instructor in journalism. For the first time I taught complete courses. I became convinced that I wanted to do this full time.

A friend recently described me as a risk taker. Perhaps I am. A person seeking to make the kind of changes I have needs to be flexible in all ways: emotional, physical, financial, attitudinal, and geographic. In pursuit of my desire to teach, I have lived in four states in five years and seen my salary drop by half.

Even as I made progress toward my goal, the clock ticked toward a time when retirement might become more relevant than a career change. I became dissatisfied with my administrative position at Penn State and resigned in the fall of 1998. I continued teaching until the end of the semester, and then I was on the market again. I looked in the mirror and saw the gray hair and crow's feet. I felt old. From time to time potential employers uttered those "You're overqualified" comments that sounded to me like, "We had someone younger in mind."

Just as I began to lose faith in my ability to make the transition, persistence paid off. Two teaching offers materialized in the space of two weeks. The first was a sabbatical-replacement position. The Purdue lectureship offer came from a department head who was willing to gamble that a middle-aged man with practical experience might be able to contribute to a highly theoretical department. I called a friend on the Penn State faculty who said, "Purdue sounds like the better gig." Ten months later I am convinced he was right.

Underlying many of these changes was an event that shook something fundamental in my view of life. In February 1995, a good friend -- an English teacher at Exeter -- fell through the ice and drowned while skating on the Exeter River.

A week or so before he died, I sat with him at a faculty meeting. These were not light-hearted gatherings. From the dour portraits on the wall to the uncomfortable wooden chairs, everything reminded attendees of the virtues of Puritan rigor. At the front table, an administrator recited recent honors that faculty members had received. I whispered to my friend, "So ... what have you done lately?" He paused for almost an uncomfortable time -- perhaps he hadn't caught my attempt at humor -- and said finally, "I teach."

On my refrigerator door I've placed a message, in stylish calligraphy, that says, "To teach is to touch a life forever." Whether grounded in naiveté or idealism, I believe those words. My goal every teaching day is to convey something useful to my classes.

Last year a friend who edits an alumni magazine asked me to write an article on alumni who had become college teachers. I visited one such teacher in her classroom at the U.S. Naval Academy, where students rise when the teacher enters and leaves. At Purdue, I don't get anything like that respect. Students straggle in late. In a computer classroom, it's a challenge to get students to stop reading and writing e-mail. I hear the murmurs of conversation in my lecture course.

A number of colleagues lament the quality of today's students and recommend that I read the book Generation X Goes to College. It has begun to dawn on me that I may reach a day when I agree with them that much classroom thought and effort is wasted on students who neither want nor care to learn. At the moment I'm in denial. As someone who has just recently made the transition to full-time teaching, I have a convert's zeal for my new religion. Now 54, I feel privileged to teach.

David W. Johnson is a lecturer in the department of communication at Purdue University.

ALSO SEE:

Career Talk: I'm 50. Can I get a job? Part II

I hadn't reckoned on turning 50: Comments from readers

David W. Johnson: How I became a university instructor at 53

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