Antidisestablishmentarianism: A Sentimental Journey
Antidisestablishmentarianism: A Sentimental Journey
by Louis G. Chacos
Thinking about Montgomery Junior College, as it was known in its early years, conjures up vivid memories for me, and like snowflakes, no two of the shapes are the same. One of my first experiences concerned obscurantism, a part of the orbicular logic heard on campus, but more or even less about the defalcation later. Certainly, we all expected more, and therefore utilized that which was available, peripatetic dialogue, which leads one to the first point.
Everyone, well, not everyone, upon first seeing the Takoma Park Campus was impressed with the mammoth oak trees that towered over and surrounded the archaic buildings of the earlier Bliss Electrical School, circa BB (Barnum and Bailey), of course. The flowering azalea bushes and dogwood trees that bordered the walkways and the tennis court at the center of the campus had a tranquilizing effect on all of us who lingered long enough for the roses to affect our olfactory organ. This sylvan setting was conducive to a harmonious relationship between human activity and nature.
And the same thing could be said about the interface existing in the infrastructure of faculty and administrators, but no one ever did. Perhaps occultation prevailed. As a corollary to this perdition, of course, were those sesquipedalian members (a Buckleyism) who expressed views about their photophilous experience at other institutions of higher learning.
Through close analysis and perceptive observation of this scene, an obvious truth was revealed to me: the evolution of a dilemma, an epic drama about to unfold, a true enigma having a many-faceted convolution: nevertheless, it did provide grist for the mill which led us to a major consideration. This milieu, naturally, represented a threat to be avoided at all costs, and therefore many faculty chose to circumvent the periphery. The administration, perceiving this action as promiscuous political profligacy, promptly pursued it to a prolapse. If the reader was not with us in the early and middle sixties, I can assure him that my comments accurately reflect and parallel
typical expressions heard at faculty meetings at that time. Furthermore, the speaker’s words were of such profundity that it assured him of apotheosis. An alternative was to take the bull by the tail and look him straight in the face.
At every opportunity, which was seldom, I expressed the philosophy that was at the heart of my Lecture IV (numbered this way because it is more impressive, like the designations given in the Superbowl) to the first College Policies Committee. This original “Gang of Four” had eight members. They were Jack Henry, Harvey Cheston, William Fox, Emery Fast, Louis Chacos, Allen Jones, Bernice Pierson, Alice Thurston, and Dean Donald Deyo ex officio. Interestingly enough, I distinctly remember that they strongly endorsed the views expressed in Lecture IV with one exception. I abstain from answering your question, Who? We were a hardworking group, putting in long hours, making a valiant effort to steer a steady course. Harry Belafonte became famous by stealing a line from us for a calypso song, “dey-o, dey-ey-ey-o, daylight comes and I wanna go home.”
The CPC had a half life of 3.617532 years and was superseded by the Faculty Senate, an august body that had never learned the lessons of Lecture IV even though it was unobtrusively or surreptitiously whispered at meetings by those who had gotten the point of it all. Contemplating this experience, we come to the realization, as some wag expressed it, God so loved the world that he never sent a committee.
On the reserve shelf of the College’s libraries, one may find some excellent books for easy reference, requested by a “friend of the committee.” It was believed that coping skills were needed to transduce an orphic-like passage, as the College matured. Look up these oldies but goodies: Peat Moss’s The Art of Obfuscation and Half Nelson’s classic, Communicate and Obdurate Redundancy. The Four Minute Millennium by Barren Aaron provides a truly quick and easy historical reference. Required reading on the list of anybody who has visions of ascendency is The Compleat Seeker by Sir Chaise Longue. These books may be helpful to one who was born with intelligence but has since outgrown it, as Mark Twain once remarked. Of course, we all tried to convince students that a person’s mind is like a parachute—it must be open to be used.
Prediction is an art, especially when it deals with the future, according to Anon. However, recalling the early days of the College when there was great excitement, a sense of destiny, and anticipation in the establishment of a two-year college that ultimately attained great prominence in higher education and was recognized for its excellence, and then observing the activity of recent years, one is left with the impression that the institution is shuffling along with about as much speed as an unambitious snail. Who knows, perhaps only a handful of the faculty remain who also espouse the teachings of Lecture IV.
The message was and still is DON’T TAKE YOURSELF TOO SERIOUSLY, strive for excellence, of course, but have a sense of humor; do something ridiculous on occasion. I do.
Takoma Park and Rockville Campuses: Physical Education, 1958–1983; chairman, Department of Health, Physical Education, Recreation, and Athletics, 1961–1972; Professor Emeritus.