Resentful Teachers Blame Marius Unfairly

I taught Expos for eight years with Richard Marius. I worked for him as a preceptor and have skied with him. Nonetheless, I shall rise above all that to respond to that hatchet-job of an article--"Expos Out of Control Under Marius."

The first part of the unhappiness is systemic, for a writing teacher's lot is not always a happy one. Colleges talk a big line about the importance of writing, but they seldom back their commitments with money. Chronically underpaid and overworked, the teachers who take up this cross find themselves scuttling from college to college, sometimes working at two or more jobs at once. For men and women who have put years into getting an advanced degree, the life of an itinerant scholar often comes as a bitter pill. Many of them are trying to make a name for themselves as writers, which means they are doubly prone to disappointment.

When they come to Expos, this beleaguered bunch finds a place that seems great. The pay is not bad, the teaching load allows time to write, and best of all are the high octane undergraduates. But teachers also find a program that has a very clear vision of its task--and that's the second source of the unhappiness. Those who cannot or will not get with the program are shown the door--to the enormous benefit of Harvard first-year students.

One of the former Expos teachers complained in the article that she could not teach "free writing and free expression," whatever that is. I wonder how far an undergraduate would get with "free writing" in an economics or history thesis? Or in a subsequent job?

Some of the teachers who stay become increasingly resentful at having to leave. If Harvard were a totem pole, Expos faculty would be on the part that is under the ground, but it is still the Harvard totem pole. It's all downhill from here. The thought of having to teach more students for less money at a place like (God forbid!) Boston College causes the bile to rise. And guess who becomes the chief focus of all that anger?

I graded my last Expos paper three years ago, and since then the program has no doubt gone all to hell. I predicted as much. Reading about the grousing reminds me of an unhappy circus employee whose job was sweeping up after the elephants. One day he was bitterly complaining about his job to a friend, who finally interrupted him to say "Why don't you quit? Just get out!" The sweeper replied "What--and leave show business?"

Richard does have his shortcomings, chief among them his utter inability to beat around the bush. If a teacher is doing a bad job, Richard will say so flat out and not skimp on the details. He'll do the same for transfer students who come from colleges where bad writing gets good grades. Criticism of one's teaching or writing is never easy to take, but it is dished out as fairly in Expos as one is likely to get anywhere else. Richard's language is rich in metaphor and he has a host of stories that he uses to reinforce his points. He comes from Tennessee, as do I, where this is a common affliction.

Sooner or later Expos teachers, as well as their students, have to leave Harvard. I moved from Expos to a dreadful writing job--one from which I finally escaped. Some of the people now griping will eventually find out how good a boss they have in Richard.

Perhaps the lad who wrote this one-sided screed should apply his talents to restaurant reviewing, where he can interview all the cooks who have been fired and ignore the food. He shows some promise as a humor writer: I laughed aloud at his contention that Richard's taking a sabbatical nine years into his job constitutes evidence of stress. If that be the case, then Harvard's entire senior faculty must be gobbling Valium by the case.

Harvard's first years, whether they know it or not, have been well served by Richard Marius. He took a program that was in shambles and built it into a place to which writing teachers apply by the hundreds, work hard, and accomplish great things. Jeff Bradley