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The Quiet Rebel

John Duncklee

    I leaned back in my office chair at Northern Arizona University, and listened intently as two of my students, Alejandro Islas and Maria Bustamante, told me that their group had elected me their faculty advisor. The group called themselves Chicanos Por La Raza. I had heard rumblings of such a student organization, but nothing specific. I was acquainted with three professors, two that were in the Spanish department and one in anthropology, that seemed more logical to be the group’s faculty advisor than myself.
    “Why are you electing me to be your advisor when you could elect the Mexicanos?” I asked.
    “Because you are more Mexican than any of them,” they said in unison.
    I guessed that they had already decided how they would answer my questions.
    “But I am from New York,” I said.
    “We know that. We have listened to a lot of your stories in class about how you lived along the Arizona/Sonora border for many years and had a ranch in Sonora. You even spent a year teaching at La Universidad de Sonora in Hermosillo. Sure the others speak Spanish, but you speak our Spanish. You even sound like a Mexican.”
    I could not argue with these two. I had noticed that the three Spanish-speaking professors did their best to conform to the many unwritten rules at the university, one of which was to refrain from any protests and discourage the students from protesting anything. One result of this aura of faculty control was when the United States bombed Cambodia; Northern Arizona University had a “pantie raid”. Most other campuses witnessed prolonged protest that often led to open revolt.
    “We are holding a meeting tomorrow afternoon after lunch at the student center,” Alejandro said. “We hope that you can be there because we need your help getting our group approved as a campus organization.”
    “Thank you for the invitation,” I said. “I will be there at one, tomorrow afternoon.”
    “That will be perfect, and thank you for being our advisor.”
    “I hope it will be my pleasure,” I said, and smiled.
    The twenty students greeted me warmly when I arrived to attend their meeting. Alejandro and Maria seemed to be in charge of the meeting. I shortly learned that the others had elected them to be dual presidents. I liked that idea. They explained that having two presidents diminished the politics.
    They showed me the paperwork that they had found necessary to complete in order to be recognized as an official campus organization. I read the forms and noticed at the top of the first page #1 called for the organizations name. Someone had written “Chicanos Por La Raza” in pencil in the space. I raised my hand to speak. Alejandro looked over to where I sat.
    “Yessir?” he asked.
    “I suggest that the name, “Chicanos Por La Raza” will send a red flag flying when the administrators see that on your application.”
    “Do you have a suggestion for another name?” Alejandro asked.
    “Since this university was once a teacher’s college and the president started as an instructor then and just about every time I hear him speak to any group he always say “education” multiple times. And, he pronounces education “edgejoocayshun” with his Missouri accent.”
    The students laughed at my imitation. They had probably heard the president say that many times.
    “My suggestion for a name is “Chicanos For Education”. Notice I have used only one Spanish word because I think that the less Spanish you use in your name, the better. This is because I have the distinct feeling that they are leery and afraid of anything Mexican. I am sure you have noticed that all the administrators are Gringos. This will always be an advantage for you as a group and as individuals because those people running this place are afraid of Mexicans and will try to make you afraid of them. They use the “Fear Factor” in an attempt to control people that they are charged with administrating.”
    “How will we know they are using ‘The Fear Factor?’ Maria asked.
    “That is easy,” I said. “They don’t know about any other method because they were raised by ‘The Fear Factor’. I am sure you have realized that they always talk down to you, and try to put expressions of superiority on the faces as they talk. When I sat in the president’s office as he gave me his patronizing talk to start me off as a law-abiding professor, he said, ‘If you keep your nose clean and do a good job of teaching, I will give you tenure in three years.’
    “My reply shook him up somewhat. ‘I really don’t want tenure, yours or anyone else’s because I think tenure attracts insecure people into the teaching profession.’ He looked over at a wall and stared at it for a few moments before dismissing me. From that instant until today, the president of this university has been afraid of me; not only because he can’t figure me out, but also he is not used to being told that a faculty member does not want tenure.”
    “Why don’t you want tenure?” Maria asked.
    “As I told the president, tenure attracts insecure people to the teaching profession. My other reason for not accepting tenure is that administrators use it as a dangling gift so that new faculty members will conform to the way the administration desires. Accept tenure and you surrender some serious freedom.”
    “I have never thought about these things before,” Alejandro said.
    “That is what administrators hope. They don’t want you to think,” I said. “Have you completed the application?” I asked.
    “Yes,” one of the students said. “Would you like to look it over?”
    I took the official looking paper and saw that they had completed everything that was called for. I was happy to see their name, “Chicanos For Education” at the top.
    “I think this will be perfect. I will take this to the administration building and walk it through so they can’t delay approval. I would like Alejandro and Maria to accompany me.”
    The three of us walked to the administration building where I asked the receptionist where I needed to go to get a campus group approved. She knew exactly where I needed to go and gave me directions. Following those directions we found the office of one of the vice presidents. The secretary asked the purpose of our business. After my explanation she picked up a telephone and, I assumed, called the vice president for instructions. She stood up and beckoned us to follow her. She opened a door that had the vice president’s name in gold lettering painted on a polished wooden plaque. She introduced us and left. The vice president invited us to come into his office and sit down.
    The process was even easier than I had anticipated. It was the name, “Chicanos For Education” that cinched his prompt signature of approval on the application. I asked him for a copy of the application with his approval signature. A slight scowl appeared on his face as he picked up his telephone and asked his secretary to come in. He gave her the approved application and asked that she make a copy for me.
    “Do you have any current plans?” He asked.
    “We are just getting organized, Sir,” Alejandro said. “We are hoping to have some speakers to tell us about bilingual education.”
    “That sounds like an excellent idea,” the vice president said. “If I can be of assistance, please let me know.”
    “Thank you, Sir,” Alejandro said.
    As we left the vice president’s office, I picked up the copy of the application that the secretary had made foe me, and we walked back to the meeting.
    “You said the right thing, Alejandro,” I said. “Now that vice president is breathing easier after hearing ‘education’ mentioned. Those people up there are comfortable with ‘education’ because that word does not pose a threat to their idea of a peaceful campus.”
    Alejandro and Maria told the waiting students about the easy success we had had because the name “Chicanos For Education” did not make the vice president think or more importantly, fear, our purpose.
    I excused myself from the meeting and told the group that I was happy with the results of their approval. I could not see any further need from my advisory position, so I returned to my office. I had a good feeling about “Chicanos For Education”. I had learned that they were hoping to bring changes in the attitudes of the universities and secondary schools toward Mexican youth so that they would have equal chances to be admitted and have courses of instruction that would meet their needs. Some had expressed their frustration with American history courses that concentrated on the United States being victorious in the war between Mexico and the United states. Others expressed their desire for more study about the cultural differences between the two countries. I wondered what they would do to accomplish their goals.
    I had not heard from the group for a month after the day the group was approved by the vice president. Alejandro came to my office with a question.
    “We have invited “Chicanos Por La Causa” to speak here. Do we have to get approval for that?” Alejandro asked.
    I had heard about that organization and knew that it was an Hispanic group that leaned toward being radical. I knew that the administration would never approve their presence on campus, much less to speak to the students. I also had no idea if our group needed any sort of approval to invite them.
    “I think that the best thing for you to do is write up a short proposal about the invitation and bring it to me. As your faculty advisor I will sign the proposal and then you proceed with the event. Should any of the bigwigs ask you if you have approval, just say ‘Yes’. Probably, they will not ask to see proof. Should they insist on seeing proof, just show them the paper with my signature.”
    “Thanks,” Alejandro said. “Chicanos Por La Causa” will be here to speak three weeks from now. I will have the student newspaper announce the event.”
    “I will definitely be there,” I said.
    The visit by “Chicanos Por La Causa” was on a Saturday morning in the auditorium of the Student Union Building. I arrived early because I wanted to get a good seat for the event. I watched Alejandro and Maria talking to two strangers down by the stage. One man, with graying hair and a black mustache made all kinds of gesticulations with his hands and arms as he conversed with the two students. I could see them smile and laugh together so I got the idea that there would be some humor mixed in with the serious parts of the speeches.
    Just before the beginning of the program I glanced around the room to see if any of the Spanish-speaking professors had come to hear what the visitors had to say and how they said it so that they, the faculty faithful to the president, could report what they had heard to their patronizing president. My prediction came true. The two Mexican faculty members sat together and the other Spanish-speaking professor of anthropology sat four rows above them. The spies had arrived. I was happy to see them so that they could hopefully give an accurate report to the president.
    Alejandro and Maria made an excellent presentation with their introductions and then sat down to listen.
    The first speaker, the graying man with the black mustache, started off with what I might describe as an explosion. He spoke with what sounded like a trained voice, clearly and loud enough for anyone in the back row to hear what he said. His Spanish was Mexican, not Castillian, so all of us Mexican-Spanish speakers could understand him perfectly. He used a lot of off color language using words that would fit in conversations in bars or in street gatherings. I had to wonder how his speech would go over with the spies. At least they would have something to report to the president. When the man described the current standing of people of Mexican decent in United States society, he didn’t pull any punches. He gave what sounded like accurate statistics on the numbers of students applying to colleges and the number of student acceptances according to race and ethnic background. He was adamant about the need to improve the numbers of youth of Mexican blood accepted by colleges and universities. Then he called on “Chicanos For Education” to visit high schools and help Mexican students with their preparations to apply and enter colleges and universities.
    The other man differed little from the first in the way he spoke, except that he told his own story about how he had been born of Mexican parents that had come to the United States as farm workers crossing the border through the barbed wire fence and walking mile after mile to find work on the farms in the Imperial Valley of California. He told about how he had been able to go to school and even graduate from high school. He ended his talk with his graduation from a junior college in California and the difficult search for work in something others than farm labor. The latter topic gave him a lot of material to speak about how Mexican migrant workers are exploited by American farmers.
    I walked over to the two as they stood below the stage and told them that I had enjoyed listening to them and thanked them for their time and effort on behalf of the students at the university. As I turned to leave, I noticed that the three spies had left to auditorium.
    It didn’t take long for one of the spies to pay me a visit. The following Tuesday after the visit by “Chicanos Por Las Causa” the chairman of the Spanish department arrived at my office at mid-afternoon. He must have checked my schedule to see that I had no scheduled classes that afternoon. As usual my door was open because I didn’t believe in restricting student visits to “office hours”. The chairman rapped on the open door. I looked up from the book I was reading and invited him to come in and sit down. I could see that he was nervous. I put a bookmark in the book and placed it on one side of my desk.
    “What can I do for you?” I asked. “I am sure you are here as the president’s emissary to chew me out about “Chicanos Por La Causa” so get to your point.”
    “The President is concerned that you allowed such a radical group to speak on campus,” he said. ‘You should have gotten permission from Vice President Gillenriver before inviting them. Their language was not appropriate and their radical views were not the kind of thinking the President wants the students here exposed to.”
    “Well, now. I find this interesting. In fact I find this very interesting. In the first place I must ask you and if the president was here I would include him in this question. Do you believe that a university is a place for the free exchange of ideas? If you don’t believe that, I have my doubts that you should be occupying a position in any university. If the president does not believe this, then he should definitely resign his position of president.”
    I paused for a moment for what I had said to sink into the man’s brain, giving him credit for having brains enough to understand what I had said.
    “The next part of my question is are you aware of the First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States that speaks about our right as citizens to free speech?”
    I paused again to give the man a chance to think about the question. He said nothing so I continued.
    “I saw you at the event, along with your colleague and the man from anthropology who also speaks and understands Spanish. I recognized all three of you as spies for the president. I hope you made points with the president because you lost my respect. I am also aware that you do not care if you have my respect or not because I am not responsible for giving you a renewed contract or raise in salary. Now, I am going to let you in on a secret; I do not respect spies of any type or purpose. But, what I do have is my self-respect along with the respect of my students. You have neither. I suggest that you go tell your amigo president what I have just told you and if he has any questions as to the meanings of what I have said, tell him to please come to my office or send for me, because I do not appreciate talking to crawling vermin who spy on their colleagues.”
    The chairman of the Spanish Department got up from his chair like a scared rabbit, and left my office without a word. I heard no more about the Chicanos Por La Causa from anyone in the administration or the faculty.
    The student members of Chicanos For Education went to the local high schools and offered their services to the Mexican high school students who wanted to apply to the university. They spent considerable time with this effort and I heard that the enrollment of Mexican students at the university had increased the following year.

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