How I Got My Job and Became Professor Emerita

by Ping Wang

In the fancy lounge of Old Main,
I read “Chinese Toilet” for my job talk—
a story about excrement.

It was lunchtime.
Turkey sandwiches were served on porcelain plates
to dignified professors and beautiful students.

I had no clue how to present myself for this life-changing event:
what to wear, what to read, how to address my audience or interviewers.
My PhD program never thought I’d apply for a position in academia.
Nor did I
English is my second tongue
It was assumed I’d never be qualified to teach humanity
Let alone creative writing
Let alone poetry

I didn’t expect to get this job from this lily-white place in the Midwest.

So I sang odes about shitholes in China: how I hid in public toilets and chicken coops to read
Romeo and Juliet, War and Peace, Dead Souls, Pushkin’s Poems, and Jack London’s The Call of the Wild—all banned as pornography during the Cultural Revolution, all hand-copied, all
missing pages.

The audience laughed, mouths stuffed with white turkey and bread.

I got the job and taught poetry for 21 years
Till I was ejected from the porcelain place.

I had two hours to move thousands of books out of my office (nobody was allowed to help).
My faculty ID was cut to my face.
I’m banned from stepping on the campus again, ever.

The next day, the pandemic broke out.
The whole campus was shut down.

Ain’t I the luckiest professor on earth!